Fractured Affections (The Affections Series Book 1) (14 page)

“I’m so sorry, Striker. You never deserved any of the pain I caused you. I’ve felt so much guilt over keeping him from you. Especially when he is such a wonderful boy. His heart is so big and his love is so pure. I always thought that he was like that because we loved each other that way, but I was wrong. Our love has only caused both of us years of pain. I have hated myself every day since he was born.” Reagan leans forward and places a quick kiss to my forehead.

I tightly close my eyes as the severity of this situation settles in my chest. Tears run freely from my eyes. I am caught between so many feelings. I want to let the anger take over all the hurt and pain. It would be so much easier to deal with if I could just let the rage loose.

I stand and head toward my room. I quickly yank off my work clothes, sliding on some running shorts and tennis shoes. I forgo a shirt and make my way out of the house, slamming the door behind me.

My feet carry me down the steps, breaking into a full stride up the driveway. The air is cool against my skin and a chill racks through me. It isn’t long before I’m a mile in, and my heart is pumping fast and the sweat is dripping down my face. My breathing is heavy and I concentrate on the burning sensation taking over my muscles, instead of the pain tearing through my heart. I feel my feet pound against the asphalt and I press myself to the limit. I haven’t run this hard for this long, since my time in the military.

My legs are beginning to feel like Jello and it hurts to breathe in the cool air. I turn around and head back toward the house. My anger has dwindled like a fire dies down to smoldering ash. It’s still there and capable of igniting at any moment, but for now it’s less damaging. The pain, however, is just as strong, and I’m trying to suppress the tears I feel gathering in my eyes. Once I hit the driveway, I slow my pace to a walk and try to figure out what to do from here. I can remain angry and continue to argue and blame Reagan for the things she has done to me over the years, or I can try to move on and have a relationship with the son I never knew I had but want more than anything.

I’m still breathing hard, making my way into the house. As I enter the living room I notice that Reagan is still sitting in the same spot as when I left. She’s staring straight ahead with a vacant look in her eyes. She doesn’t even hear me as I approach. I take a seat across from her in the recliner and watch her. She is so still it’s hard to tell if she is even breathing. I’ve never seen someone look so empty before, and it’s very disturbing to see. My discomfort is growing as I sit here, while she is lost in her own head.

“Reagan!” My voice comes out harsh and vibrates loudly across the quiet room, but she doesn’t even flinch. In all the years I’ve known her, I’ve never experienced this type of behavior. Since coming back into her life, I have experienced it twice, which makes me wonder if I’m part of the reason she responds to stressful situations this way. I may be hurting, but I am still coherent to the world around me, and it’s fucking with my head to see.

Slowly standing, I make my way to her, placing my hand on her shoulder and giving it a slight shake, this time trying a softer tone. “Reagan, look at me.”

She remains still, but starts to mumble softly. I can barely make out what she is saying, something about failure, being hated, and never forgiven. I shake her a little harder and kneel in front of her again in her line of sight. “Reagan!”

Finally her eyes snap up to mine and she speaks. “He will hate me. I can’t handle that. I’m such a failure. I fail everybody. That’s why everyone leaves. I make it hard to love me. I failed you, now I failed Dylan. Obviously, I failed Dalton because he isn’t here either. I guess I will fail Max and Colt eventually, too. Everyone would be so much better off without me.”

“What are you talking about? The only way you failed me was by keeping Dylan a secret. Everything else was a misunderstanding. I was at fault with how things were left, too. So stop.”

She shakes her head while she responds, “No, that’s not true. I failed you. If I loved you enough, you would have known I could never have been with anyone else. I didn’t show the love I felt for you. I ruined what we had, and then made it worse by not trying to find you, no matter what it took. I wanted to most days, but I was too busy drowning in my self-loathing that I couldn’t do what I should have for those who are most important to me.” Her voice begins to rise and her pain is evident in every word that passes her lips. “My God, when I was pregnant with Dylan, I would go without eating, I would physically hurt myself to the point where I was close to crossing the line of no return. I have been hurting him since before he was born.”

She is now staring at me with a crazed look in her eyes. I don’t know how to handle this. “What are you talking about? You would never do something like that, cause yourself pain or put any of your children at risk. Anyone can see how much you love them.”

“You’re wrong, when you left I lost myself. Instead I should have been focused on finding you, but I wasn’t. Dalton would have to force me to eat and get out of bed. Then before he started to spend every waking moment to make sure I was safe, I was cutting myself, a lot. I would cut so deep sometimes, that if you saw my body now, you would be appalled and not just from the scars, but appalled by the fact that I did that to myself while carrying someone so precious.” She begins to rock back and forth hugging herself tightly across her chest.

I feel my stomach twist with her confession and a wave of nausea hits me. Dalton has told me in the past that Reagan suffered from depression after I left, but never could I have guessed how bad she was. I stand, walking away to gather my thoughts, but I don’t know what to make of this. I slide my phone from my pocket and dial Dalton. When he doesn’t answer, I leave a message asking him to call me. Then I return to Reagan.

Everything that has happened in the past is wrong. I should stay angry with her, but to watch her slip into this haze of nothingness breaks me. I promised Dylan that I would fix this. Now knowing that he is my son makes me want to fulfill that promise even more. I don’t want to start our father son relationship as a failure.

I watch her from across the room, for a moment, and think of the girl I used to know: the girl who would listen to me for hours when I was having a hard time dealing with my parent’s death.  The warmth of her hand wrapped around mine or the tenderness of her touch when she would embrace me, or the soft melodic sound of her voice when we would talk through the hurt that having absent parents caused. Reagan’s strength back then was something that drew me to her and let me know that I could get through anything.

Looking at her now, I don’t see that girl. Maybe I was wrong, she is way more broken than I could’ve ever imagined. I realize, that in this moment of hurt and pain, I’m doing the same thing I did so many years ago when my aunt told me about a false relationship between Dalton and Rea. I’m only thinking of my own pain and how I was wronged. I was so wrong to leave her back then and never look back. I should have gone to her first and asked what was going on, but I didn’t. I’m part of the cause not the victim.

This is my Alma. The woman whom I have loved since the day we met. I have helped lead her to this dark place. What kind of man does that make me? I’m almost thankful in this moment that Dalton was the one she married. He never left her side and loved her through the pain, giving her the life she always deserved, while I ran and hid because I was too much of a coward to face her and work through a misunderstanding. I owe her so much more than she has ever received from me.

I walk back over to where she is seated and scoop her up into my arms, pulling her close to my chest. She is still incoherent and doesn’t respond to my touch in any way. I walk slowly to my room, careful not to bump her almost limp body into anything. Once inside, I place her on the bed and remove her shoes. Pulling the covers back, I get Reagan situated and tuck her in. I head to my en suite bathroom and quickly shower; the warmth of the water does little to calm the aching muscles from my run. I do my best to still the anger and tension that has taken root in me today, so that I can focus on Rea.

Out in my room, I quickly remove the towel wrapped around my waist and dress in sweats and a t-shirt. Reagan is still where I laid her, so I pull the covers back and crawl in on the opposite side, so we are facing one another. Her eyes are closed and I think she may be asleep. Her hands are brought up in front of her chest, so I grab hold of the one without the brace and lace our fingers together. We would lie like this all the time as teenagers, before things took a more intimate turn. This was our way of just being, no stress from our situations with our parents, no feelings of rejection or insignificance, just peace and quiet, and the comfort of being together.

I continue to watch her sleep, for at least a half hour, before I notice a single tear slip from the inside corner of her eye and roll over the bridge of her nose, landing on the soft white sheet. I reach up to wipe away its residual path and Reagan speaks with a whisper.

“I’m so sorry. I meant what I said before we talked. Please don’t hate me.”

I slide in closer and wrap my arms around her, pulling her in close and bury my face in her neck. “I could never hate you, Alma. Lord knows I have tried over the years, but I never could. How can someone hate their own heart?”

“What I did is unforgiveable. I wanted to tell you for so long, but the more time that went by, the harder it became. Not just with telling you, but to completely flip Dylan’s life upside down seemed so unfair.”

I pull back and brush a few stray strands of hair from her face and take a good look at her. Minus the sadness in her eyes, she is still just as beautiful to me when I take a second to allow myself to see the woman I fell in love with years ago. The delicate curve of her nose, the softness of her skin, and bright blue eyes rimmed in thick dark lashes, she is so beautiful. My eyes travel down to her soft pink lips. I can’t help but want to place mine firmly against hers and devour them in a way I haven’t been able to in over a decade. I wonder if they still taste the same, but I can’t find out.

I blink a few times, breaking the direction of my thoughts, and pull away so that we are only holding hands again. “You’re right, it was unfair, but my being angry will not be beneficial to Dylan. This will be hard on him. It will be hard on all of us, but we need to figure out the right way for him. I want him to love me like I loved my dad, and hating you will not get us there.”

Reagan only nods. Her frown deepens as she tries to hold back the tears and sadness that have been pouring from her most of the morning. I don’t want to keep seeing this look on her, the self-hatred and disapproval in herself for the mistakes that she has made. Before I know what I’m doing, my body moves forward on its own, and I place a soft kiss against her lips. Her lips are soft and taste of salt from hers tears. My body begs to taste more of her, but I pull away and sit up.

“Striker, do you forgive me?” I feel the bed shift and then she is kneeling behind me, wrapping her arms around my waist, and leaning her chin on my shoulder.

“In time. Rea, I will, but I don’t hate you. I still love you, just as much as I ever have, which makes this even harder on me. Now, not only do I have to watch you with Dalton, but I have to share my son with him, too.”

Her lips press against my neck, just below my ear, for such a quick kiss that I question if it was real. “If it helps, you have always held my heart. I did learn to love Dalton, as my husband, but you are still the love of my life, and the one that got away. Maybe, that’s what made telling you harder. If you were a part of Dylan’s life, then you would have been a part of mine, too. I don’t know if I could have handled seeing you like that and not being with you.”

I know exactly what she is saying, I feel it too, being here in her home, but it’s still no excuse. It’s hard to see her and not be able to touch her or do all the things that my body is craving to do with her. Dalton is a good man, and I know he has been a good husband. “Dalton is a good man, Reagan. In some ways I understand your decision to marry him. I did what you always expected from the ones you love; I left without a single word or goodbye, but Dalton stood by your side. I know he loves you in the way that you have always deserved. While I loved you completely, I didn’t know how to put that love in motion and be everything you needed.”

Pushing up from the bed, I need space; I make my way to the bedroom door. “We’ll talk to Dalton before making any final decisions about Dylan. I need to head out and handle some work, and then I will pick up the boys up from school.”

“I can get them, Strike.”

“No, Reagan, you won’t. I told them I would be there, and that’s what I’m going to do.”

Chapter Thirteen

Reagan

It’s been a week since I told Striker about Dylan. I’ve carried around this extra weight from such a hurtful lie, for so long, that I didn’t even realize the burden it was on me. I realize now since things are out in the open, besides telling Dylan, I can breathe easier. I never wanted to keep Dylan from Striker; it was never my original intention. I never knew where Striker had run off to. When I eventually found out where to find him, Dalton had been playing the role of father to my baby boy, and it didn’t feel right to take that from a man who I knew would never leave us.

The way Striker had left, I always questioned his ability to commit to Dylan for the long haul. What if he came into our lives and then left him, too? Looking back, and knowing what I do now, I see how stupid I was, and how wrong all of my decisions were. I let the fact that my father left me, and my mother’s instability, warp my mind and based my decisions on my abandonment issues. I’ve hurt people that I love because I was weak. Now, I have to face hurting my little boy.

I had a long talk with Dalton last night. We decided that I would do this on my own because he expects to be gone for another two weeks, and I can’t stand to keep the truth hidden from Dylan any longer. I want to get everything out there, and hopefully, give Dylan the opportunity to spend some one-on-one time with Striker before he returns to his own life. I can’t take back the mistakes I have made, but I want to try my best to fix the hurt I have caused.