Run with it macateer bro.., p.22
Run With It (MacAteer Brothers Book 1), page 22
“I’ll take pineapple over anchovies or black olives.”
“Seriously? Black olives?” I happened to agree with him on the anchovies, but it was too much fun to tease him and get teased back.
“Yup. Black olives. I don’t like the way they look.”
“What if I like black olives?”
“I’ll get a pie half with black olives and half without.”
“Sarah likes only cheese pizza, Mattie is all about pepperoni, sausage, and extra cheese, nothing else. Jacob likes veggies, including black olives, but not mushrooms. Abby will only eat pepperoni and mushroom. Now she wants pineapple in the mix.”
“So we’ll order what everyone wants and take the leftovers home.”
“That’s a lot of pizza.”
“We have a lot of family.”
Warm fuzzies welled up in my heart at his words. I leaned in to kiss him as I got in the truck. “You’re a good man, Connor MacAteer, and I’m so very lucky to have you in my life.”
“I’m the one who’s lucky. Now, are we done with the pizza debate? I’d like to get to the game before they start the seventh inning.”
I blew him a raspberry and settled back to fasten my seat belt.
He mumbled something about being a smartass and how it might get me a tanning later. I don’t think I ever smiled that big in my life. A little flare shot up in my stomach at the thought of what that would be like. Perhaps going a little Fifty Shades wouldn’t be so bad.
Life drama just had to happen, didn’t it?
My phone rang as Connor was backing out of the driveway. I saw it was Doug calling, and mom senses hit the pit of my stomach. I answered my phone and put it to my ear. “Hello?”
“Hi, Bev. Um… Mandy and I… well… we need some help.”
“The girls already sent me pictures of their dresses.”
“Huh?”
“I can’t help you with them.”
“Well… uh… no. It’s not the dresses. It’s Mattie, he… um… he had an accident.”
The sound of Mattie crying hard and Abby’s frantic voice hit my ears. My heart rate increased, and I could feel a different kind of heat build in my gut.
“What happened?”
“Um… well… Mattie eats a lot, and we’re not serving dinner until seven. So… well… we have a bunch of canapé trays, but Mattie wanted pickles and….”
I may have dented my phone case I gripped it so hard. “Doug, what happened?”
“Mattie pulled a big jar of pickles over on himself. It broke, and he has a bit of a cut on his head.”
“By the sound of him, it’s more than just a bit.”
“Well, you know head wounds bleed a lot, and—”
“Why the hell haven’t you taken him to the emergency room?”
“All of Mandy’s family are coming soon, and I’m meeting some of them for the first time. I really need to be here, and the emergency room takes so long….”
Red. I was seeing red. Nope. I was seeing magenta, crimson, and scarlet. Hell, I was seeing shades of red that hadn’t been discovered yet.
“Are you asking me to come to your house to take our son to the emergency room because it’s fucking inconvenient for your fucking girlfriend?”
The truck jerked to a stop, and I could see Connor turn toward me. I rarely dropped F-bombs. I saved them for the times when I needed to make a point. Big ones. Doug knew this but still chose to keep going.
“Ah… well… um… yes.”
“You piece of shit. You’re a total fucked-up piece of shit!” I was yelling loudly. “I swear, Douglas Archer, if you don’t get off your ass, grow some fucking balls, and get your son to the emergency room, I’ll spend every penny I have to take my kids away from you permanently!”
“Bev, there’s no need to use that kind of language.”
“Fuck you, Doug!”
I hung up and wished I could throw the phone to the floor. Worry for my son mixed in with white-hot rage at my ex-husband. My ears roared, and I was afraid if I let it out, it would consume everything around me. Connor parked on the street and leapt out, slamming his door hard in the process. The loud bang broke my fury enough to follow him.
“Doon’t waste your time callin’ him back. Weel take your van. The kids are comin’ hoome.” The look on his face, the accent, and his sharp movements told me he was angry himself.
We made it to Doug’s fancy house in a fraction of what it normally took. Connor parked my van in the middle of the circular driveway next to a Lexus. An older couple had just arrived and was in the process of handing the key to a parking valet. They were dressed formally, like they were heading to a prom rather than a rehearsal dinner. I guess that’s a thing in a rich person’s world.
“Excuse me, ma’am, but I can move your—”
“Don’t bother. We won’t be here that long.” I brushed off the young man’s outstretched hand as I bulldozed my way through. The valet and the couple stepped back in fear from my growl, and I stomped up to the front door. Connor was right behind me.
I didn’t bother to knock.
Doug met me, his face anxious. “Now, Bev, there’s no need to cause a scene.”
“Get out of my way, Doug. Where is Mattie?”
“It’s not as bad as you think… and… what the hell is he doing here?”
Over it! Done!
“WHERE THE HELL IS MY SON!” The rafters shook with my roar.
“Kitchen. He’s in the kitchen. Please keep your voice down.”
“Fuck that!” I was really starting to enjoy saying that word.
I found Mattie sitting at the kitchen table with Abby holding a blood-soaked towel to his head. He was still crying softly and wiping at the snot dripping from his nose. Later, I might think about the luxury appliances, granite countertops, and expensive custom fixtures. Later, I might think about the designer clothes my kids had on. Later, I might think about all the people who witnessed the show. At that moment, all I could think about was my child’s pain.
“Mommy!”
My heart tore in half.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. Mommy’s here. I got you.”
I held my baby boy and carefully lifted the towel from his head. The cut was not “a bit” by anyone’s standard. It was about two inches in length and extended from the corner of his eye up into his hairline. Stitches were a definite.
“How’s your vision? Can you see okay? Nothing blurry or seeing two instead of one?”
“No, it just hurts!”
His cry ripped my halved heart into quarters. Mattie had spent most of his life collecting little hurts. This was his first big one.
“Okay, Mattie-boo, let’s get you to the hospital.”
“Will I have to have a shot?”
“Probably. But it’s only to numb you and make the pain go away.”
“Is Connor coming too?”
I glanced up at the man standing behind me. Sarah had burrowed under one arm and Jacob under the other. He addressed Mattie directly. “Absolutely, boy-o.”
“I’m scared.”
“I’ll stay with you the whole time.”
“I wanna go home.”
“Me too,” Jacob announced from his safe spot next to Connor. He was wearing an outfit that matched the one Mattie wore, a dark purple three-piece suit. Sarah was in her poofy frills dress, her expression one of disgust under the tear streaks. “Can I come home too?”
I looked at Abby in question, and she nodded.
“Connor and I only have the van. It may be a while at the hospital.”
Sarah shook her head. “I don’t care. I don’t like it here, and I don’t like her.”
Jacob sniffed. “Yeah. If she would’ve let Mattie have his snacks, he wouldn’t have built the chair tower to get to the pickle jar.”
There was more there for me to pick through, but I had to get Mattie to the hospital and didn’t have time to process anything else.
Connor had been around us enough times that he knew the drill. “All right then, lasses and laddies. T-minus five. If you have stuff here for the weekend, we’ll come get it tomorrow. Right now we have to go.”
It was amazing how bonded my kids were. They would argue with each other to their last breath over who farted at the dinner table, but if something hurt one of them, it was all hands on deck. Connor scooped up Mattie and carried him through the house. Strains of a string quartet wafted through the long hallway, and there were a lot of guests milling around who stopped to watch the spectacle of Connor and me taking a bloody kid to the front door. I heard a few gasps of “oh my” and “my word” as I tromped over the glazed tiles.
“Oh, thank God!” Mandy trilled as she hurried over to us in the foyer. “The caterer’s been waiting to get in the kitchen for ages. My schedule is all messed up now! Did the blood on the floor get cleaned up?”
I didn’t think about it. I didn’t hesitate. My arm flashed out, and I punched Miss Silicone Boobs right across her face. Not a little slap, either. I roundhoused her hard. She cried out as her nose crunched and she went down hard.
“Stupid, self-centered bitch! Guess the maids have a little more blood to clean up, huh?”
I shook my bruised knuckles as we marched out the door. If my last action had legal consequences, bring it.
Jacob’s eyes got round as he passed Mandy blubbering on the floor with Doug squatting awkwardly to comfort her. “Wow, Mom. Epic!”
The van still sat where Connor parked it. Jacob and Sarah scrambled to get in the far back, and I sat with Mattie in the back seat. Abby got up front. Mattie was still upset and sniffling but calmer. Connor was shaking when he got behind the wheel, and his level of control impressed me. I was sure he had been fighting the impulse to either put a fist through Doug’s face or through one of the walls.
He got us to the hospital in record time. I didn’t think a police siren would have stopped him.
The wait to see a doctor wasn’t as long as I thought it would be. Maybe the sight of a blood-covered little boy and his very determined mother had something to do with it, but in no time they whisked him to the back and he was getting stitched up. Connor stayed with the other kids in the waiting room, and I caught sight of him handing some dollar bills to Sarah, probably for the vending machine. The doctor was a young woman, probably an intern, but very good at putting Mattie at ease. She didn’t blink at his explanations.
“How did you cut yourself?”
“The pickles cut me.”
“Must have been a big pickle.”
“It wasn’t the pickle itself. It was the pickle jar. I dropped it when I pulled it off the shelf.”
“Why didn't you get out of the way before it fell on your head?”
“I couldn’t. I was on the ladder.”
“The ladder?”
“Yeah, I built a ladder to get to the pickles.”
“You built a ladder?”
“Uh-huh. I took a chair and put a stool on it and then a box and climbed up to get the pickles.”
This conversation took place while she covered the area with a numbing spray before she gave him a shot of Novocain. She put twelve stitches in my son’s head, and I winced at every one of them.
“There ya’ go, buddy. You’ll have a nice scar to show off to the ladies someday.”
He lit up with joy. “A scar? Coolio, I’ve never had one of those before.”
“And I’d rather you not get any more.” She plastered several strips of Med-tape over the row and wrote a prescription for a topical antibacterial cream. “Keep it clean, and you’ll need help with washing your hair for a few weeks. No more building ladders. If you want pickles, you need to ask someone to get them for you.”
“I did. Mandy said no.”
The doctor made a weird face, and I jumped in. “You can get pickles at home, Mattie-boo. I think we’ve had enough excitement for tonight. Let’s get us all home.”
“Did you go to the game and have pretzels?”
The big soft pretzels were Mattie’s favorite whenever we went to the ballpark. “No, we didn’t make it to the game at all. Your dad called me, and we came straight to get you.”
“Why didn’t Dad take me so you didn’t have to miss your game?”
My anger had reduced to smoldering ashes. Still there, but I wasn’t ready to fan those particular flames. Especially in front of my eight-year-old. “I don’t know why, sweetheart, but I’m glad he called me. I would’ve been here anyway, right next to my little Mattie-boo with the coolio scar.” Ruffling his head wasn’t a good idea, so I settled for a squeeze.
“Does Connor like pretzels?”
“I’m sure he does.”
“With mustard or salt?”
“I don’t know, but you can ask him and I bet he’ll tell you.”
“I’m hungry.”
Tears rushed out of my eyes faster than I could contain them. “Me too, precious. Me too.”
The doctor left, and a nurse came in with a clipboard of forms for me to sign. Mattie climbed off the bed and dashed over to look at his head in the mirror. He poked at the tape and made faces. “Zombieee!” he rumbled at himself. “Think Connor will get us pizza now instead of Sunday?”
God, I love my kid! “We’ll see what we can do.”
Connor was pacing—yes, pacing—in the waiting room. Jacob walked next to him in his purple finery. Abby and Sarah sat next to each other with a few open cracker packs and soda cans on the table in front of them. They were sitting in two chairs, but their skirts took up the space of four. I wanted to laugh at the sight, but before I could, all three kids rushed us with Connor bringing up the rear.
“Did it hurt?”
“How many stitches did you get?”
“Was it a big needle?”
I didn’t say anything. I didn’t have to. Connor folded me up in his strong secure arms and just held me. “It’s okay, luv. Our boy is just fine.”
Me? I clung to him. This man who had quietly become my rock, my anchor, my best friend, and my firm support. In that moment, I admitted to myself that I loved him. I loved Connor MacAteer and had for a long time. I couldn’t imagine a life without him in it.
“Hey, Connor, can we get pizza?”
Mattie’s voice cut through the emotional fog I was in, and I felt Connor’s chest vibrate as he chuckled. “Already called it in, boy-o. We’ll grab it on the way home.”
“I like pepperoni and sausage and lots of extra cheese.”
Connor winked at him. “Got ya covered. Ready to go?”
I sighed as I released myself from his arms. “I have to go check out and settle up. The insurance will cover most of this, but I’m sure there will be something left on the bill.”
“Doug will cover that bit, won’t he?”
I gave him my best you’re-kidding-me-right look. I didn’t want to say anything since the kids were in earshot. “Talk about it later. Let me go do what I need to do.”
I went up to the counter with my entourage loudly in tow. Sarah and Abby debated about pineapple on pizza, much like Connor and I did earlier. Mattie peeled off the tape to show his brother where his coolio scar would be. The woman at the checkout desk rapidly typed on her computer, probably to get us out of there as quickly as possible so the noise volume would drop.
“I checked your insurance and your deductible benefits. We need a deposit of twelve hundred for now until the insurance company pays out. We'll send a refund or a bill for the balance once the insurance settles.”
Holy shit, that was a lot, but what else could I do? I was reaching for my credit card when Connor’s debit card suddenly appeared. He tucked it into the machine and let it do its thing.
“What did you just do?”
He punched in his PIN. “It’s only a deposit. I’ll cover this, and when Doug pays, he can pay me back.”
I whispered under my breath to try and keep it from the kids. “Doug’s probably not going to pay.”
Connor met my gaze with his strong one. “Oh yes, he will.”
“Mom! Jacob says he doesn’t like black olives anymore.”
Connor grinned at me as he palmed the receipt. “A man after my own taste. Argue later, Bev. There’s pizza waiting for us.”
I kept my mouth shut. We drove by the pizza place, and Connor took Jacob in with him to carry the pizza boxes. We had six people in the car and three large pies to feed us.
The aftermath was simple. We went home, ate our preferred slices, and played marathon Clue. Mattie’s battery ran out early, probably due to stress and the painkillers the doctor had given him. It was late when Doug finally called to check up on Mattie. To his credit, he first asked if Mattie was okay. Then he asked if the children would be coming back to attend the wedding.
OMG, how was I ever married to this man? “Gee, Doug. Let’s ask them, shall we?” I put the phone on speaker. “Hey, kids, are you going back for your dad’s wedding tomorrow?”
The three who were still awake yelled toward the phone.
Abby was texting someone, her thumbs a blur on the phone screen. “There’s no point in going anyway. We’re not in the wedding party. We’re just supposed to sit on the side and stay out of the way.”
Jacob whined. “Do I have to? I wanna stay home and play games with Mattie.”
Sarah gave her opinion. “I hate that stupid dress!”
I took the phone off speaker and put it back to my ear. Doug decided to throw a tantrum. “Beverly, those are my kids too! I’m getting married tomorrow, and I expect them to be here.”
“You can come get them in the morning, but I won’t make them go if they don’t want to.”
“I can’t come get them! I don’t have time. You’ll need to bring them early.”
“Not my problem.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you? You come here all high and mighty with your boyfriend”—he spat out the word like it was something foul—“and then have the nerve to punch Mandy in the face. You’re lucky she’s not going to press charges.”
I stepped out on the porch so my kids wouldn’t hear me, or at least I hoped they couldn’t. I wouldn’t put it past my little snots to try to listen at the door. “There is nothing wrong with me, asshole, but there is something seriously wrong with you. Mattie has twelve stitches sewn into his head. Twelve! Why? ’Cause your fucking girlfriend wouldn’t let him have any snacks for fear of him getting that ridiculous purple suit dirty. The co-pay for the emergency room was twelve hundred dollars. A hundred bucks a stitch! You want to press charges? Try it. I’ll be glad to explain in court how you couldn’t be bothered to take your injured child for treatment.”
