Page 1 of Twisted Needs

PROLOGUE

PARKER

THIRTEEN YEARS AGO

“I swear to God, man, I’m about to fucking sell him…”

There’s some violent action movie playing that rattles through the entire apartment with excessive gunfire and people screaming. Luca’s kid brother sits cross-legged on the couch with his eyes glued to the screen.

It’s haunting to see my best friend in this condition. The dark circles beneath his eyes look deep enough to swallow him whole, and his usually perfect hair looks like it’s been yanked on all night long. The man is fucking resilient. I’ve watched him play an entire game through broken ribs. Hell, I’ve watched him take a puck to the face and skate another shift before even admitting to himself he was bleeding.

How the hell is parenting the one thing that knocks him down?

“After all that money you spent on lawyers…” I laugh weakly, dragging a hand down my face. “Why’s he so mad?”

My mind lands on the memory of Luca calling me an hour ago, telling me to come work my magic. Anders was screaming in the background…spewing a string of slurs no eight-year-old should be allowed to say.

Luca exhales painfully slow as he grabs my arm and leads me toward the kitchen, putting a little more distance between us and Anders. “I’ve been letting him check the mail on his own. His new therapist thinks he needs a stronger sense of independence.”

“Right.” I purse my lips.

“When he opened the mailbox, there was a birthday card in there from his father.”

My stomach immediately drops. “Fuck, man. Did he read it?”

“No.” Luca shakes his head. “Thank fuck. I took it away and hid it from him.”

“Well, that should do it,” I chuckle wryly. “You read it?” I add carefully, not wanting to upset him more than he already is but still wanting to check if he was okay.

“The fucker can’t even speak English. Wrote the whole thing in fuckin’ Spanish.”

“I thought you knew Spanish.”

“Just Portuguese,” Luca corrects. “But whatever. That’s not the point…” The anger in his voice is immediate. Anytime he sounds like this, it’s painfully obvious that Luca loves his brother more than life itself. He wants to protect him with all his heart, but things just seem to keep popping up. “I’m so sick and tired of him trying to mess with my kid.”

His words hit me harder than they should. Every time he calls Anders his kid, it makes my chest tighten. It’s true, though. Anders has been his kid for years now. He fought for that, even when that meant having to take a season off to help his little brother adjust to an entirely different life.

Luca glances toward the couch. The second he looks at Anders, his entire demeanor softens. “I don’t know,” he sighs. “Em keeps offering to fly home early, but I don’t want to burden her.”

“Anders is her kid, too,” I remind him.

Something like defeat flashes across his face. “I just wish he could see how hard I’m trying.” He scratches the back of his neck and blinks. “I’m at my breaking point,” Luca confesses. “Between him and hockey and trying to make things work with Em…it’s killing me, Park.”

What happened to Anders would make anybody angry. Eight-year-olds just aren’t supposed to carry around this much hurt all the time.

For a second, I just stare at him. Luca never admits things like that. He’s the kind of guy who bottles everything up and puts everyone else’s problems before his own.

I pull him into a hug, and he immediately hugs me back like he’s needed it all night. I think that’s the moment he finally breaks, shaking in my arms in a way that reminds me he’s still just a guy in his twenties who’s dealing with something none of his friends can relate to.

“I’ll talk to him.” It's the only thing that I can think of to help him. To put at least some of his worries at ease, for him to know that he isn’t on his own.

“I’m sorry,” Luca chokes, sniffling. “I just didn’t know who else to call.”

The couch dips beneath my weight when I plop down beside Anders, who immediately glares straight at me like I’ve personally offended him.

“You look like the hot mess express,” I tell him softly, hiding my amusement. One of my favorite things about him is the fact that he tries to act like a little adult. There’s something about being raised by your older brother that really gives you a hardshell exterior. He’s got thick skin, so I don’t even bother talking to him like he’s made of sugar.

Like a tiny carbon copy of his older brother, Anders’ messy blond hair looks more like a lion’s mane. His hair is slightly curlier than Luca’s, so it’s always a little messy.