Shay Savage - Bastian’s Storm

“At the other bar,” I whispered.

“What other bar?”

“Um…” I stammered. “Over in Hialeah.”

Raine continued to stare at me.

“I didn’t touch her,” I said. “She touched me, but I left.”

“What do you mean, she touched you?”

A whole new typhoon of panic swirled around me as I tried to figure out how to tell her what had happened without bringing up the fighting. Thinking about the fighting made me realize she still knew nothing about my talk with Landon and about what I was going to have to do. I was still too intoxicated to make any sense, and I knew if I opened my mouth, all the wrong shit was going to come out of it.

“Bastian, tell me what the hell you are talking about!”

“I can’t,” I said. “Not right now…please? I have to tell you, but I can’t right now.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” She started to push away from me, but I clung on.

“There’s shit I gotta do—for you…for him…” I babbled, not even completely sure I knew what I was saying. “I gotta do it, Raine. I don’t want to, but I have to.”

“I don’t understand!” Raine insisted.

I knew I wasn’t explaining myself well; there just wasn’t anything else I could say. I was too fucked up to tell her I had to fight again, and every word out of my mouth was the wrong one. Anything I said could and would be held against me and with good reason.

I reverted to the single phrase that couldn’t get me into more trouble.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” I mumbled against her neck over and over again.

“Why, Bastian?” she asked. “Why did you do this now? If you’ve been going to that place every day, why did you take a drink today?”

I squeezed my eyes closed, gripped her tightly against me, and took a deep breath.

“I have a son,” I whispered.

My declaration was made. At least for now, we’d leave it at that.

At some point in the middle of the night, I woke and hobbled over to the bathroom. I was still a little drunk and thought I might be sick again. I crouched down and leaned against the tub as I stared into the toilet water.

I’d fucked up, big time. I had no idea what Raine was going to do in the morning, but I knew it wasn’t going to be a barrel of laughs for me. She said she wasn’t leaving, but did she just mean tonight or at all? Was there any room in her for forgiveness when she had already told me she wouldn’t put up with me drinking again?

I had to convince her it was a one-time deal.

It was, wasn’t it?

As fucked up as it was, I already wanted another drink. It was the only coping mechanism I knew when shit got too deep for me to handle. Knowing my son was out there alone in the world definitely fell into that category.

Raine and I both knew I had a kid out there somewhere, but somehow hearing that it was a son, a son who was now orphaned like I had been, made it all hit home a lot harder. When I told Raine about him last night, she had agreed to wait until morning before we talked about the subject anymore. She knew I was in no shape for any kind of rational discussion, and I had passed out soon afterward.

I dragged myself from the bathroom floor and went out on the balcony. It was dark and cool outside, and the only sound in the air was from the surf far below. I lit my cigarette and smoked half of it before tossing it into the metal bucket. I also picked up the ones I had missed before and tried to sweep the ash over the side with my hand.

If I was going to start serious training again, I was going to have to cut back on the smoking. At least Raine would appreciate that. It was one topic she and Landon would agree upon wholeheartedly.

Probably the only one.

I still didn’t know who had been in our condo, and I was probably going to have to tell her about that as well. Now that I had talked to Landon, the possible suspects had increased by five—representatives from the five crime families I’d be battling against in the tournament. Any one of them could be scoping me out. Their bosses probably wouldn’t let them kill me before the tournament started because there were rules against that, but they wouldn’t have any problem with removing Raine from the situation in hopes of throwing me off my game.

It would probably work, too.

There was the added problem of what to do after the tournament was over. What would keep Landon or Franks from calling on me again? They would always be able to hold threats of Raine and my son over my head, and there wasn’t a whole lot I could do to stop them. I couldn’t even manage to get Franks to end up in jail when he’d ordered the deaths of sixteen people, including Raine’s father. There was no way I could go to the cops with information about tournament games without landing myself in prison for life, so that wasn’t an option either. I’d learned the hard way that informing on organized crime wasn’t a wise option.

I couldn’t cope with this shit. Even if everything went down exactly how it needed to, and I came out a winner, it wouldn’t be over. Franks and his organization would always be able to make me play again. That fact didn’t change the situation. I was going to have to do this. I was going to have to fight for my family.

My family.

For all I knew, Raine wouldn’t want anything to do with it. Assuming she did forgive my recent transgression, that didn’t mean she was going to want to help me raise a kid that wasn’t hers, and I couldn’t give her one of her own. Maybe she didn’t even want a kid.

No, that wasn’t true. I’d seen it in her eyes before whenever my vasectomy had come up. It was a great way to have sex without pregnancy risk, but now that I was with Raine, other options with less permanent effects would have been preferable.

Assuming Raine doesn’t think better of it and ditch me as soon as she wakes up.

One hurdle at a time. I had to make sure she wasn’t going to tell me to get lost as soon as she got out of bed. Despite my inclination to cut back, I chain smoked for the rest of the night and came up with ways I could try to apologize.

In the morning, I started by making her breakfast.

My head was pounding, and despite four large glasses of water to wash down pain relievers, the usual hangover remedy wasn’t doing anything for me. The smell of the food made me want to get sick again. I was woozy, and nothing sounded better than just passing out on the couch with the TV playing some movie I’d seen a hundred times before. I felt like total shit.

Totally deserved shit.

“You’re up early.”

I startled a little before glancing over my shoulder to find Raine in her bathrobe, watching me. I smiled half a smile and motioned toward the cooking bacon.

“I figured I at least owed you breakfast.”

She raised her eyebrows and sat down at the kitchen table as I poured her coffee and brought the flavored creamer she liked out of the fridge. She blew across the top of the cup before taking a sip.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

I just shrugged.

“That bad, huh?”

“Been worse.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I knew they were wrong.

Note to self—say as little as possible today.

Instead of talking, I spoke with actions. I served up eggs, bacon, and toast to go with her coffee. I gathered up all the fruit in the condo and made a little fruit tray for her. I even squeezed fucking orange juice though just the pressure from pushing down on the juicing tool increased the tension in my muscles, and my head pounded harder.

I really wanted to pass out, but when I checked the clock, it was still an hour before Raine would need to head to class.

One hour. I can last that long.

The hour came and went. I cleaned up the remaining mess in the bathroom so Raine could take a shower, but after she got dressed, she sat on the couch and stared at me.

“It’s getting late,” I said.

“I’m not going to classes today.”

“You’re not?”

“No,” she said as she sat back against the throw pillow. “I think we have a little talking to do, don’t you?”

Fuck me.

I looked away and rubbed at my eyes. It did nothing for the throbbing in my head, but I hoped I would look pathetic enough to get a bit of pity.

“I’m not sure I’m up for it,” I said.

“I’m not giving you an option,” Raine retorted.

Fuck me twice.

“Fuck, Raine,” I groaned.

Oh there ya go, drop a few f-bombs on her. That’s bound to help.

She kept glaring.

So much for pity.

“I can’t do this.” I dropped my hand from my head and sat down on the opposite side of the couch. “I feel like shit, and everything I say is going to come out wrong.”

“You deserve to feel like shit,” she said. “I’ll keep it in mind while you explain yourself.”

I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. I stayed that way until she cleared her throat and plopped her bare feet up on the coffee table.

I obviously wasn’t getting out of this, so I went for delay tactics instead.

“Can I run first?” I asked quietly as I looked back at her. “Clear my head a little?”

She glared at me. I thought I might have heard an actual growl.

“It really would help,” I pleaded. I was trying for something between pathetic and desperate, but I wasn’t sure if I could pull it off. Mostly I just needed some time to think about what I was going to say.

“Fine,” she snapped. “Be back in an hour.”

I nodded, got dressed, and took off for the beach.

It was later than my usual run, and there were already a few people milling about the sand. The skies were grey, so I had that going for me; at least the sun wasn’t making my headache worse. The pounding of my shoes against the sand wasn’t helping, but I trudged on.

As the clouds began to thicken, the sky turned a darker shade of grey. Each step along the beach reverberated through my legs and up into my torso and shoulders, keeping time with my throbbing temples. It should have been relaxing and cathartic, but it wasn’t. I wanted each step to take me farther away from the decision I had to make, but I knew it only brought me closer. Even as the huge condo buildings of Miami Beach fell behind me, I knew I couldn’t escape what I had to do.

What was I going to tell Raine?

Sandpipers pointed their beaks at me as they tried to scamper out of my way. I crushed shells under my shoes and dodged washed-up jellyfish as I ran. A Cuban dude with a metal detector walked along the beach just above the tideline with his blue jacket blowing around in the wind. He smiled and said good morning to me, and I ignored him.

It started raining.

Within minutes, I was drenched.

I didn’t care. I just kept pounding the sand with my feet and dodging whatever shit the tide brought in with the waves. If I kept my head down so I couldn’t really see the buildings off to one side or the few people wandering around, I could almost believe I was back on the island.

Except I was wearing a pair of pricey running shoes.

I stopped, ripped the shoes and socks off my feet, and tossed them to the sand up the beach. Maybe someone would steal them, but it wouldn’t matter much to me. I kept on running down the edge of the shore in my bare feet until I couldn’t run anymore. I slowed, walked a bit, and then dropped to the sand and stared out over the water.

My kid is out there.

My son.

I have a fucking son.

The initial shock I had felt over hearing of Jillian’s death had worn off, and all I could think about was him—Alex. My son. My fucking six-year-old son. Landon didn’t have a picture of him, just the name. I had no idea what he looked like. Did he have my color hair? Her eyes? Did he even know about me? Even if he did, would he want anything to do with me? He’d miss his mother and the man who had at least played the father role in his life so far, and he might very well hate me for all of it. If he didn’t know, well…I didn’t know how I was supposed to explain it to him.

I didn’t know how to explain the process of getting him to Raine either.

She’s going to fucking freak out.

As much as I had told her about my past and the people in it, she wasn’t going to understand that there was no way I could avoid the tournament. She’d want us to run, and I’d have to convince her there was no place to hide. If we did run, I’d never find my son.