Page 46 of Give You Up

“I . . .” Speechless. I am completely speechless.

Dare’s given me gifts, but on special occasions like for my birthday or Valentine’s Day, to celebrate our friendship, but to give something just because, well, I cannot believe I’m doing this, but I open the door and wave Taron inside.

The box is huge, and I stoop down to help him but stop. Taron walked the distance from his truck to my front door carrying the huge box. It shouldn’t be a problem carrying it over the threshold. Anyway, he has a lot of pride. Taron also likes doing things for other people, especially for his mom. Whenever I went over, he would help her with the yardwork or getting dinner ready.

How did a nice guy get such a godawful temper? To the point he got into fights that left him bruised and one time, limping. Taron never went into the details, only offered a terse grumble that he deserved the whooping. What fourteen-year-old kid deserved to get whooped so hard he could hardly walk?

He sets the box in my small living room, straightens, and looks around. I see my place through his eyes. There is an old piano to my right, tucked into a corner. Across from it is a small couch.

When I have company over, I bring chairs in from the kitchen. There are four of them. Usually, though, when my friends and I get together, we head over to Riley’s place. She has this huge four-bedroom house. Where she got the money for it, no one knows, and she doesn’t offer the information either.

I suspect it has something to do with her past and the Sterling family. For some reason, Midnight hates that house and will not step foot inside it. The house was given to Riley sophomore year. I return my thoughts and attention to Taron. He is standing in front of the fireplace mantle, picking up one picture frame after another. There are three pictures total.

“You look good, Syn. Who’s the kid?”

“A special surprise. His name’s Gunner.”

“He has the same color eyes as you. Same hair color as Grady.”

He sets down the picture of me holding Gunner in my arms when he was just two years old and faces me. His jaw is locked, and his eyes are so dark with anger, I take a step back.

“He’s not Grady’s kid, Taron.”

“Then whose?”

“I can’t tell. I’m sorry.”

Beau and Lola are fighting over custody of Gunner. Lola doesn’t think Beau is a fit father, with his womanizing, drinking, and partying, her argument being that he is trying to relive life in his twenties again. Beau claims Lola’s modeling and jetting off at a moment’s notice isn’t a stable life for Gunner.

I am on the fence as to who has the more unstable life. What I’m not on the fence about is my love for my little brother, my growing love for Beau, and us keeping my identity a secret from Gunner and Lola.

To them, I am the hired help, the nanny with eyes similar to Beau and his kid. Had Lola thought long and hard, she could make the connection, but I hate to admit she doesn’t have too much in the smarts department. A mark against Beau. He likes them young and not too sharp.

“What bastard knocked you up, Syn?”

“I don’t know what you’re speaking of.” Only Hunter knows of my pregnancy. He was the father.

Taron takes a step and then another, crowding my space. I step back. My legs hit the couch. He advances and I am forced to sit. He sits too, holding his head in his hands with his elbows on his knees.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Help?”

“Do you need money, Syn? Does the kid miss you and would rather live in Dumas?”

Ah, so we’re back to what he heard at Bayside.

“He’s happy with his dad, Taron. We’re good with the arrangement. He and I FaceTime when we can. Bounce, um, Bounce gives me advance notice for times that work for all of us.”

“This Bounce—”

“Please don’t ask any more about them. Understand that eventually I’ll tell you all there is to know.”

“You and this Bounce guy are what exactly?”

“Friends. He encourages me to meet new people.”

“But would rather you stay away from jocks?”

---