Page 113 of Sacrifice the Knight (Checkmate 6)

Zeke:I want to spend time with you.

When I scoff, Ben surfaces from his hypnotism. “Your mom?”

“No, my sperm donor.” I exit the text screen without replying and toss the phone by my leg. “Not interested.”

“What’s he want?”

I shrug. “Mostly to stress my mom out. But he calls it spending time with me.”

“You gonna do it?”

“Fuck no. It’s been nearly fifteen years. My mom busted her ass to make sure I was fed, and all he did was see how many women he could fuck over. I won’t disrespect her now when he wants to slide into my texts just because shit finally got easier. He can go fuck himself.”

Ben’s eyes stay glued to the fights on TV, but he nods his approval. “I’m glad you said that. Anybody who ain’t around for the hard work doesn’t get the easy days. Fuck him.”

“I like Eric,” I murmur. My phone dings again, but I ignore it. “I get why you freak about this shit, but Cap is good for my mom. You won’t convince me otherwise.”

“I know.” He stretches lazily and makes sleepy grunting noises. “I like him too, but it’s our job to give them hell. I like Oz, too. Like, I legit love him, and if he died, I’d probably go to his funeral.”

I snort and readjust my aching leg.

“I think he’s perfect for my mom. But if I stop giving him hell, he might become complacent. If he forgets how amazing she is, then I’ll be forced to Hulk smash him. So I give him hell just to make sure he’s paying attention.”

“Have you ever told him you love him?”

He shrugs. “Couple times. But he’s smart enough not to bring it up.”

My phone dings again, then once more. I’d love nothing more than to switch the damn thing off and walk away, but if Mom tries to call and the phone is off, no doubt SWAT will be slamming our door open. I don’t want to make Mom cry anymore, so I pick up my phone, but it’s not her.

Zeke:Please, son. I swear I’m not here to hurt you or your mom. I genuinely want to see you.

Zeke:It’s not like before. I promise. It doesn’t have to be a big thing. I’m not asking for custody or a sleepover. Maybe just a soda at Dixies or something? My treat.

“His treat!” I laugh. “Fuck me, Zeke wants to treat me to ice cream.”

“He’s ballin’,” Ben scoffs. “Jesus, you better let him know that he’s forgiven for everything he’s ever done wrong. Dixies’ ice cream works miracles. Halle-fuckin-lujah.”

“Is that sarcasm? I’m not sure I’m reading your mood correctly.”

He snorts and glances at my phone as I reply.

Me:No. You ran when you were needed. Keep on runnin’. Straight past us. Straight past this town. Don’t come back.

Zeke:Mac! You’re there. Just an hour of your time. Please. We’ll start with one single hour, and when you realize I’ve changed, maybe you’ll give me another next time.

Me:Mom offered you time. A billion times over the years, she offered. She fuckin’ begged because she needed the help. But you weren’t there. If you wanna spend time with me, I’ll see you at the diner. You know where to find us; you know we’re always there, and if you’re man enough to face Mom, then you can sit with me for an hour. You don’t get shit all else from me. If you turn up there and hurt her in any way, I’ll show you what happens when I don’t stop fucking you up. I owe you nothing, Zeke. Absolutely nothing. And there’s nothing on this planet that’ll convince me you’ve become a better person.

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