Undisputed by A.S. Teague Page B

apartment. I have a dying kid to meet, and it’s almost time to go.
     

     
    Mark was right The kid only lives about twenty minutes away, and I find his house easily enough. Pulling up to the curb, I check the number on the front door and study the house.
    Situated in a neighborhood that has a lot of trees and sidewalks, the house is neither small nor large. It looks like your typical all-American home, and I can imagine him riding his bike while his parents shout encouraging words from the front porch.
    What would it have been like to grow up here?
    For a moment, I feel a pang of jealousy—for a dying kid. Outstanding!
    Squashing the strange feeling, I remind myself that I am living a life most people only dream of. What the fuck do I have to be jealous of?
    After having put it off long enough, I get out of my Jag and walk up to the house. All of the houses on this street have perfectly manicured lawns, but this one needs to be mowed. The bushes need to be trimmed, and several pots on the porch have sticks in them. As I stare at them, it dawns on me that they were probably full of flowers at one point. Hell, maybe this whole house is dying right alongside this kid. Oh, God, what if he looks like an empty shell of a person. All weak and broken, barely able to lift his head.
    Fuck, what am I about to walk in to? God, I wish Tripp had come.
    After one last glance around, I take a deep breath and lift my hand to knock on the door. My fist barely connects with the wood before the door is thrown open and a petite woman in her early thirties is greeting me. Something about her is familiar, but I can’t put my finger on why I recognize her.
    “Oh my gosh , look how big you are!” She throws her arms around me in a tight embrace.
    I stand awkwardly with my arms by my side. I’m not the touchy-feely type—unless I’m getting naked with a woman—so I have no idea how to respond.
    There’s a shout from behind the lady mauling me. “Mom! Oh my god, let go of him.”
    Immediately dropping her arms, she steps back and apologizes. “I’m sorry. I’m just so happy that you agreed to meet Connor.” After glancing over her shoulder, she drops her voice to a whisper. “He’s been so excited since he found out you were coming. And, these days, he doesn’t have much to look forward to”
    He doesn’t even try to stifle a groan. “Mom, I’m right behind you. God, you’re so embarrassing sometimes.”
    Taking a step back, I stick my hand out in her direction. “It’s okay. I’m Breccan Carlisle. Most of my friends call me Brec though. It’s really nice to meet you.”
    She takes my hand in both of hers before introducing herself. “I’m Abby O’Neil, Connor’s mom. It is such an honor to meet you. I’m so sorry I just jumped on you like that. Please, come inside. It’s chilly outside today,” she replies while dragging me inside the house with her.
    I’m confused by her comment about the weather. It’s seventy degrees and the sun’s been shining, but I don’t get a chance to think about it before he squeals.
    “Oh. My. God. Holy. Shit.”
    “Connor!” Abby scolds.
    An adolescent boy barrels past me to look out the door. “Mom! Seriously, did you see his car?” Turning back towards me, he exclaims, “Dude! Is that a Jag F-type?” He jumps up and down in place.
    Praise Jesus, he looks like a normal kid, and my body sags in relief. If it weren’t for the fact that his mother called him Connor, I would think that this was the wrong kid. He looks almost completely fine. Upon closer inspection, I notice some scarring and a large lump on his arm, but that’s the only thing that looks out of place. I was expecting to find some kid lying in a hospital bed that had been set up in the living room, not a kid who almost knocked me over while racing to get a look at my car.
    His enthusiasm for my baby has my lips turning upward in a slight smile. I remember the first time I saw a Lamborghini in our driveway. It was a