The red flush spread to Rocco’s ears and scalp and he ground his molars together so hard his cheeks bulged and the tendons in his neck pulled as taut as guitar strings. Slowly, silently, Rocco rose to his feet and stalked over to the very same window I was staring out earlier.
With his back to me, Rocco spoke. The volume steadily increased until it reached eardrum-busting. “Kylie, tell me who this motherfucker is, right now! I'm going to hunt him down and skin his ass alive.” He mumbled under his breath and his eyes flashed with rage.
I'd seen Rocco angry before. I'd heard him yell and rant. He’d shouted at me, I’d shouted back. He’d punished me whenever teenage rebellion took hold and I pushed too hard. We'd argued dozens of times over the years. But I'd never, ever, heard Rocco sound so… cold and detached. I shuddered from the arctic undercurrent, then steeled myself and responded.
“No.”
Rocco spun to face me, nostrils flaring and brows at his hairline. “No?” He crossed back to the couch and towered over me, hands on hips, the picture of glacial fury. “No, as in you're not going to tell me who this prick is?”
I shrank into the cushions but held my ground. “No. I'm not going to tell you who he is. It's not his fault—”
“Of course it's his goddamn fault!” Rocco roared. He paced back and forth in front of the sofa, hands and arms gesticulating wildly. “Some irresponsible piece of shit gets you pregnant and you don't think it's his fault?” He scoffed so loud it hurt my ears. “You weren’t knocked up by the motherfucking stork!”
I scowled. The scales tipped, and my courage returned as quickly as Rocco’s temper hit its peak. Angry Rocco was present and accounted for, and while I might fold under the scrutiny of Disappointed Rocco, Angry Rocco I could deal with. I stood and stormed up to him.
“Yeah, well, he wasn't the only one participating in the fucking!” Rocco winced at the reference to me having an actual sex life, god forbid.
Rocco crossed his arms over his enormous chest, his glare so furious it wouldn’t have surprised me if the sofa spontaneously combusted. “So this asshole has nothing to do with the fact that you're pregnant? Has no responsibility whatsoever?”
I rolled my eyes. “Don't be obtuse, Rocco. It was both of our faults. I wanted it, he wanted it, and we forgot to use protection. End of story.”
Rocco gaped, staring at me as if I sprouted whiskers, a tail, and pink bunny ears. “Forgot protection?” He breathed in and out through clenched teeth and resumed pacing, hands flying all over the place. “Who the fuck forgets protection? Have I not drilled that into you over and over again?” He had. Both of us hated every awkward, uncomfortable minute of the discussion, but Rocco did in fact lecture me about safe sex. He stopped in front of me again and threw his arms in the air. “What the actual fuck, Kylie!”
My lower lip quivered and I wiped a tear with the back of my sleeve. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.
Through blurry vision I watched as my brother struggled between his need to rant and rage, and his instinct to comfort his sister. It took a few minutes, but instinct won out. Rocco pulled me into his arms. After a long sigh, he kissed the top of my head. “We'll figure it out. Everything will be okay.”
“Y-you don't h-hate me?”
“What the hell, Ky? I could never hate you.” Rocco hugged me tighter. Swallowing around a lump, I shoved a hand between us and fished out the ultrasound picture, blindly thrusting it at him. Rocco let go so he could take it. I stepped back and bit my lip as I watched his face. A half-dozen different emotions played across it in the span of seconds; confusion, curiosity, wonder, and yep, fury. Then he smiled and ran a finger across the tiny circle. “I’m going to be an uncle.”
“Yeah,” I sniffed.
God love him, underneath the anger and disappointment, Rocco was proud. “An uncle. Uncle Rocco.” He turned to look at me, and his smile grew wider. “I think I like the sound of that.”
I choked out a laugh and threw my arms around his neck. “I love you, so much.”
Strong arms surrounded me. Arms that caught me every time I fell, no matter how far or how hard. “I love you, too, sis.”
After we hugged it out and the cloud of rage cleared the room, Rocco handed the picture back, held my gaze, and said, “I’m still going to kill the bastard who did it.”
Of course you are.
Some things never change.
Seb
“You got to pick last time.”
“Fuck you, Jonesy. Hajek picked last time, remember?”
“Shit, who could forget that weird Russian music?”
For fuck’s sake.
I rubbed my temples as my idiot teammates fought for control of the sound system in the changing room. Everyone worked out an unofficial rotation of sorts, and when it was your turn you could plug in your phone and play whatever song list you wanted. I gave zero fucks what we listened to. It was the constant bitching that plucked my last nerve.
“My music not weird. Russian music good.”