all american | lance tucker

ch 24 • lance's interlude pt. 2

And then about three minutes later I heard the door open.

"Lance! Lance! She's throwing up!" She cried. I groaned audibly.

"Then hold her over the fucking toilet." I said obviously. Sounds of the toilet being slammed open and then Ciara crying and throwing up at the same time ensued. I put my head against the wall, sighing.

"When she stops throwing up, hand her to me."

"But she doesn't have any puke on her."

"Then where did all that puke go?" I growled, not wanting to have to mop the floors. I heard her dry heave.

"Me." She complained. I stuck my shampoo filled hair out to look at her, to see her sitting criss cross in front of the toilet with Ciara in her lap, holding her hair back. She wasn't lying, the whole front of her shirt was covered in it.

"Strip and get in here then." I was annoyed by the fact that she had chosen my bathroom instead of the other one down the hall. "And that's not an invitation, by the way. It's a means of efficiency."

"I got it under control. I'll just go into the other bathroom so you can enjoy your alone time." She said sarcastically.

"Yeah, you do that." I said, matching her tone. I went back into the shower, rinsing the soap out of my hair. The soap happened to be Cara's shampoo that was supposed to grow your hair out, since I had run out a couple days ago. I was growing my hair out anyways, I hated my haircut. Made me look like a dad. Like...an old dad.

"Lance, she's not stopping." Cara fretted, her voice an octave higher than normal.

"She ate a lot today. She's just emptying out her system and then we'll just give her water. She's going to be fine, Cara."

"How do you know?" She snapped.

"I've been a parent for six years, remember?" I sighed. She didn't respond after that, which meant that I had the better point. Cara either responded to things with anger or silence. There was no in between.

"Okay. Okay. She stopped. I'm going to go into the other bathroom." She seemed to be talking more to herself than me. I stuck my head out again.

"You got it?"

"Yeah. Yeah." She then pulled off her shirt, throwing it on the floor by the dirty laundry hamper before leaving the room with Ciara in tow. I swear to god, sometimes I don't know how she had been a mom for almost two years and still couldn't figure out how to deal with kids. I finished my shower and got ready to leave, giving my hair a dirty look in the mirror.

That shit was horrible. I didn't even have to oil it, it was so stiff on its own. I hated the haircut, but I wasn't about to tell Cara that the only reason that I had gotten the haircut was because it was getting long enough for me to chew on the ends when it was in my face while doing paperwork. And then I wasn't really paying attention when they were cutting it and asked me how much I wanted off. She held up what must've been like two inches of hair, and I was looking at my phone so I just nodded and now I had a fucking buzz cut. The beard was just kind of a 'I wonder if I can do this?' since I had kept my face clean-cut for the past ten years.

The last thing I needed was a shirt, which I put on, then headed out of the bathroom. Cara was now sitting on the couch with Ciara laying in her lap on the couch, a bowl on the coffee table just in case. She looked at me wearily over the couch, mouthing bye. I walked over to her and kissed her quickly and rubbing Ciara's back.

"I'll be back in a little bit. I've gotta pick the kid up, stop at the gym for some medical records for the new team coming in next week, and I have to pick up some stuff for Ciara." I started walking away, then turned around again. "Hey, make sure you're washing your hands and shit. I don't need you sick too."