Free Having My Baby by Theresa Ragan

washer and dryer. Derrick opened the refrigerator and passed out canned iced teas.
    “What’s this?” Cliff asked. “No beer?”
    “Maybe next time,” Derrick said as he popped his can open.
    “He’s trying to set a good example while he’s living here,” Brad reminded his twin.
    “You need some pictures. I have an old poster of Pamela Anderson you can hang above the TV but I want it back when you move out of here.”
    Derrick ignored them all as he headed to his new bedroom, the one with his bed and dresser, but more importantly, the one with his painkillers stashed in his luggage in the closet. He didn’t like taking painkillers. In fact, he avoided them whenever possible. But after lifting couches and tables and walking up and down too many stairs, his right knee felt as if it was on fire. Last week his doctor had offered to shoot his injured knee with steroids to ease the pain, but Derrick figured he’d let the doctor save the needles for someone who needed them more than he did. He’d dealt with worse pain than this during his football career and a little ache once in a while wasn’t going to take him out of the game. Football was his life. Football had provided him with a comfortable house, paid off his parents’ mortgage, and unbeknownst to Jake, football would see his brother through college. No, he’d never let a few painkillers ruin everything he’d worked so hard for.
    “Hurting again?”
    Derrick swallowed the pill and took another swig of his iced tea before he turned to his brother Connor leaning against the doorframe watching him.
    “I’m fine,” Derrick said as he examined his older brother at closer view, surprised to see him, since Connor rarely came around these days. When he did show up he usually had on his scrubs and a white lab coat since he worked ridiculously long hours as a physician. Connor was the handsome one in the family and Derrick and his brothers liked to tease him about his good looks. Today Connor wore a dark-fitted suit and solid blue silk tie.
    “Glad you stopped by,” Derrick said. “Hot date?”
    Connor answered with a crooked half smile. “No date. I was at a conference not too far from here. Mom said you could use some help moving furniture, but it looks like it’s all taken care of.”
    “Thanks anyway. How are things?”
    “Fine,” Connor said. He nodded toward the luggage in the closet. “If you ever need help getting off those pills, let me know.”
    “I appreciate the offer,” Derrick said, “but I’m fine. The knee is doing much better. In fact, I’ll be as good as new before you can say ‘preseason.’” Derrick didn’t bother explaining that he’d had the same bottle of pills for so long they were nearly expired. He knew his brother had a tendency to think anyone taking anything stronger than an aspirin had a drug problem. Two years ago, Connor had lost his wife to drugs, and he hadn’t been the same since. Derrick didn’t see any purpose in trying to set him straight. What good would it do? Instead, he ushered his brother out of his bedroom and down the short hallway leading to the main room.
    “So, now that you’ve moved into an apartment the size of your master bedroom in Malibu,” Connor said, “what’s next?”
    “Now I take one day at a time and hope for the best.”
    “Wook, Mommy! It’s Howiewood.”
    Nobody had bothered shutting the front door. Derrick laughed at the little curly-haired head sticking inside his new apartment. “Hey, Lexi, what’s up?”
    “Who’s that?” Connor asked.
    “That’s Satan’s child,” Derrick said under his breath.
    Connor angled his head for a better look at the little girl. “She looks sweet enough.”
    Derrick chuckled. “Don’t get me wrong. The kid is great, it’s the mother—”
    Sandy caught up to her daughter and peered inside the apartment before he could finish his sentence.
    “She doesn’t look like Satan,” Connor said under his breath.
    “You can’t judge a