Fighting Love

Chapter Thirty Four♦

Emotional wounds are the hardest to heal

TROY'S POV

An entire day had passed since I got the name from Dr. Peters, and I wasn't keen on seeing who that one person was. It was someone my mother had ties with, otherwise, Dr. Peters would've just said it.

I woke up alone in my bedroom. On one nightstand sat a tray with lunch and a glass of orange juice. I rolled my eyes passed it and picked up the piece of paper with the name Dr. Peters had given me. I didn't want to call anyone. but my mother's life depended on it. Hence, I unfold the paper and read the writing.

"No!" I shouted. I wouldn't make that call. The closest thing to me, the tray of food, was the first victim to my rage, thrown across the room with the pieces of fried plantain hitting the floor. I was aching like someone cut open an old wound. I wanted to break something, anything; The flower vases sat on top of the coffee table. I wanted to hit something, anything; The wall, preferably, scrape away the thin flesh from my knuckles and watch the blood show itself.

I did, and for a moment, hurtful growls escaped my lips in satisfaction. I wanted to become unfeeling; to chase away the pain that latched itself to me. As I continued to trash the bedroom, a soft hand rested upon one of my shoulders. A hand that put my soul at ease and douse the raging fire within me. I turned, coming face to face with Trisa. She looked scared but still pulled me into her.

"I looked who it was while you were still asleep," She said. "I know this is a hard decision for you."

I said nothing. I felt stuck between a rock and a hard place. If I called that bastard of a father then I get to save my mother, but if I don't, she might die. He had never been there for us, so I thought nothing would change now that she was half dead and not as beautiful as ever.

What would I call him?

Would he even remember me?

Why did he leave in the first place?

Did he even care that she raised his child all alone?

All these questions hijacked my mind as Trisa led us down the hallway and into another bedroom. The walls were grey and only a queen-sized bed and a loveseat at the window occupied the space. The bedsheets were as white as the floors.

It was when I heard Trisa's labored breath that I noticed I was squeezing her tightly. It was as if she was my lifeline, the only thing to keep me sane. I felt defeated, balled up into her bosom like a tot. She whispered sweet words into my ears that, instead of putting me to sleep, as usual, rose a hunger in me. My lips found hers, and they battled silently while my hands explored her body. I smirked at the low moans that escaped her mouth.

"Don't Stop," She begged just before I asked permission to continue.

"Are you sure?" I asked between kisses. I waited for her answer, which came in the form of a feverish nod. With that, I laced kisses from her forehead to her feet while undoing the buttons of her dress. While I hauled it off, I made no haste, greeting her naked breast. One lingering kiss against her lips and I looked up at her.

I remembered the first time I explored her naked body with kisses. It was to calm the storm in her heart. This time, I tasted her for my own needs. It was a raging fire, burning within me I needed to out with the taste of her, a little salty, and smooth to the touch.

Dinner met us in bed, somewhat intoxicated. Even though It still angered me, there was a bit of me that knew, with Fluff beside me, I could endure anything.

A smile played itself onto my lips at the sight of the rays of sunlight that crept through the cracks in the curtain and brushed her face. For a moment, I thought it was going to be a good day until I recalled everything. As soon as my smile came, it disappeared.

How did I come to this? A person with no ability to fake a smile and gallivant as if I couldn't break.

The door burst open and I hurried to cover Trisa's bare legs. "The fuck you don't knock?"

A young woman dressed in office attire emerged. "Sorry, sir, but your presence is urgently needed." she fumbled with the papers in a file jacked and handed me a document. "Janelle has been out for days, and since you are the next of kin, you must replace her at the offices."

"What?"

"Sir, you are Troy Wilson, correct?" She scratched the back of her head.

"Yes, but-"

"I am Alexandria, your mother's assistant."

I looked at a sleeping Trisa beside me then frowned at the woman who barged In. "Get out, I'll see you downstairs," I barked.

"Yes, sir."

When the door closed behind her, I fell back on the bed. My plate was fuller than I thought. Trisa wakes soon after, and I told her what had happened while I got dressed. She begged me to fill mom's place at the office. I Couldn't let her business run down because she was sick. It was my job to take after her. It was after a long argument that I finally gave in and allowed Trisa to take care of my mom since I would be busy. Not that I didn't trust her, but it was my job, and I felt bad for having her do it.

She said, "I will fight your battles with you whether or not you allow me."

It was something I would've done for her, so I agreed as long as she didn't call my worthless sperm donor. There had to be another way.

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