Fractured Affections (The Affections Series Book 1) (19 page)

“Oh, no. You wouldn’t let me up before, so now I’m not moving,” she says, leaning forward so that her chest is pressed firmly against mine.

“I just said I could never be with you, while you’re married to him.” I tightly grip her hips, trying to stop her movements, but images of her wet body from earlier flood my mind along with the alcohol. I’m having trouble finding the strength I need to force her away.

“Why not, Striker? I was yours first, remember?” Her lips crash down on mine with force. The kiss is rough and sloppy; our teeth clash. Reagan moans into my mouth, and I almost lose it right there.

Gripping her shoulders, I force her back so that she is sitting straight up. “We can’t.”

“We can. It can be our little secret.” Reaching down she slowly removes her shirt to reveal nothing underneath.

My hands itch to reach out and touch her. “No, Rea.”

“Dalton has had secrets with you, for years. Why can’t I have one with you, too?” She continues and runs her hand up her stomach and across her chest.

My mouth goes dry as I take her in. She may have carried three children, but damn if her body still isn’t perfect as hell. I want to reach up and replace her hands with mine, but I still know how wrong this is. I’m just having trouble forcing her to stop. She continues trailing her hand across her upper body, while still rocking her hips against mine. I’m lost in her movements until I feel her hand slip into my jeans, awakening me from my trance. I grip her wrist and remove her hand from around my shaft. I’m finally able to lift her off of me and place her back in the passenger seat.

“Fuck, Rea, STOP! You’re drunk. You may think that you want me, but I know you well enough. You would wake up tomorrow feeling consumed with guilt. Think about that, Rea, this is not you.”

 I had a lot of hope for tonight, we both did, but again we failed. When we are at home with the kids, everything seems so easy and uncomplicated, but every time we are alone, we fail miserably. We can’t keep going back and forth like this. From this point on I need to cut off all alone time with her. I don’t want to get caught in this repetitive routine, it will only lead us down a rocky road. I know without a doubt we both want a healthy relationship for the kids’ sake.

Looking over at her, I realize that I need to encourage a healthy relationship for her as well. I’m breaking her again. Her hands are covering her chest and her body is shaking with her quiet sobs. Reaching down onto the floor I pick up her shirt.

“Here, Rea, put this on,” I say in a hushed, calm tone but she doesn’t acknowledge me. As gently as I can, I slide the shirt over her head, and she slowly slides her arms into the sleeves. Once she is covered, I reach across to pull her seat belt over and buckle her in, so we can head home.

I pull out of our parking spot and turn onto the main road leading back to the house. Peeking over every few minutes, I notice that Reagan has calmed down, but her gaze has remained out the window. I place my hand over hers while it rest in her lap.

“I know I’ve said this before, but we’ll figure it out, Rea. Okay?”

Her only response is a slight nod but her gaze never shifts in my direction. I won’t push her to talk tonight. I’m not even sure talking is what we need. I hope to have a good night’s rest and gain some clarity in the morning. My heart is telling me that staying in that house another night is a bad idea, especially with the boys at Riley’s.

It only takes a few minutes of driving before turning into the driveway. No sooner than my boots hit the ground, Reagan retching out the passenger door hits my ears. My stomach is churning, and I can feel my gag reflex respond to the sound. Standing up straight, I close my eyes and take in a few deep breaths of night air to clear my mind and calm my stomach down.

By the time I settle myself enough to walk around the car, she is hanging out the door but seems to have finished being sick. Grabbing onto her arms, I guide her from the car, careful not to step in her mess. Then I lift her weak body into my arms, carrying her straight to her room. I pull back the covers of her bed and lay her there fully clothed, only removing her shoes. I can’t bring myself to touch her any more than that. Once she’s tucked in, and I’m confident that she is sleeping, I head down to my room.

I grab a change of clothes and head to the bathroom, to clean off any remnants of tonight’s alcohol. The warm water loosens my tight muscles, and I begin to relax for the first time since our water fight this afternoon. I try to let it wash away my anxiety about how we will move on after what happened tonight, but knowing she’s so close makes it tough. I realize now what I have to do.

I quickly finish and get into bed. Laying here staring up at the ceiling I feel like I’ve been here before, making a decision that I feel is best for others, but one that may also cause them pain. I just hope that this time my decision has the outcome I hope for, and that Reagan and her family can get back to a normal life.

Chapter Sixteen

Reagan

Mortified. Is that a good enough word for how I feel? Maybe add that along with completely disappointed in myself. I can’t even pull myself out of bed, not because of this pounding headache or the waves of nausea rolling around in my stomach, but because I can’t face him today.

I don’t want to blame it on the alcohol, but thank goodness Striker didn’t drink as much as I did last night. Who knows what would have happened? At least he was still enough in his right mind to force me away. If we would have gone any further, I don’t think I would have been able to forgive myself, even though I know Dalton eventually would. Knowing he would let it go actually makes me feel worse about my behavior last night; then, to use the lies that he told as a good reason to sleep with another man. Gah!

I’m not even sure if I would call his secrets, lies. Just omissions. Things he kept from me because he thought it would be best if I didn’t know. That’s what Dalton does, he protects me. Whether I want to see it that way or not, doesn’t change the reason behind why he did it. He knew this would be my reaction to Striker, which would have caused so many problems over the past ten years. I was so emotionally weak back then. I wouldn’t have been able to cope.

Is this coping, though? It sure doesn’t feel like it. One minute, I can’t wait for my husband to come home because I miss him desperately, and then the next, I’m throwing myself at another man. A man that used to be my world but isn’t anymore. A man that I spent so many years being angry with. A man that I blamed for all my hardships in the past. But everything I thought I knew to be true, turned out to be wrong.

I can’t keep playing this game anymore. It’s not fair to anyone involved, and my heart can’t handle it.

Striker has been a great replacement for my younger boys while Dalton has been away. He hasn’t blinked an eye at taking care of either one of them. He’s taken care of the company, just as well as Dalton would, and helped with things around the house since my surgery. Most importantly, I can’t be thankful enough for his response to finding out that Dylan is his. Not only did he easily forgive me; but he has started to build a beautiful relationship between Dylan and himself. I don’t think he could be doing a better job.

He’s done everything right. So what do I do? I try to ruin everything he is trying to build, by ripping my clothes off and trying to entice him into taking me in a bar parking lot. Wow, keeping it classy, Rea. I’m starting to lose myself again but in a way I’ve never felt before. It’s like I can’t decide what’s right or wrong, my ability to use my brain has vanished. My broken heart is trying to lead the way, but it’s just not strong enough to handle that kind of job.

Dalton has only been gone for two months, but it feels like he left a lifetime ago. He should return home in two more days. I hope his presence brings balance back into my life. Maybe missing him and my loneliness is part of the cause for my behavior lately. Gotta blame something right?

Finally rolling over, I drag myself out of bed, pulling on my robe, and head downstairs to find an empty house. I could have sworn I heard Striker moving around down here earlier, but maybe he’s still in bed. I’ll surprise him then with coffee and breakfast. Apologies need to begin somewhere, so what better place than filling a man’s stomach? I pull the sausage and milk from the fridge and head over to start the coffee, taking notice that the pot is already full and warm from brewing this morning.

I fill myself a cup and walk down the hall to Striker’s room, lightly knocking on the door. No answer. I knock a little harder. When he still doesn’t respond, I peek my head in the door to find that no one is there. Maybe he left to get the kids. Riley did say she had somewhere to be by noon, but it’s only a little after nine. The kids are probably not even ready yet.

Closing the door, I head back to the kitchen in search of my cell phone. My purse is sitting on the dinner table, so I walk over to dig through it. Just as I’m about to lift it from the table I notice a small hand written note.

Rea,

I had a few things to take care of today. I didn’t

want to wake you. I’m not going to have a chance to get the boys. I don’t know how long things will take, so I may not be back until tomorrow. If you need me just send me a text, since I may not be able to answer. Enjoy your day.

                                         
Strike

I’m a little panicked. I hope I didn’t scare him off last night. Dylan does not need me to run off his real father after just finding out the truth. What have I done? I never should have gone to that bar. Alcohol is my enemy, and I was sucking it back like we were best friends. How could I not put Dylan’s needs first? Ever since Striker showed up in our lives, I’ve had a terrible time seeing the big picture.

My kids come before some fantasy that the life we once shared was some epic love story. I’ve been wrong this whole time. I know I still love Striker, I always have, but I never should have put so much emphasis on becoming friends. It’s impossible for us. We need to find a way to co-parent and that’s it. It’s the only time when we are together that things don’t get out of control.

Maybe his time away today will be a good thing. We need separation. I think we both knew that since he came here. For some reason though, Dalton thinks that we should all be best friends again, but I can’t keep putting my marriage at risk to fulfill his wish. I can’t understand where all of this came from. Why now? It’s been on my mind since the day Striker knocked on my front door.

I take a seat at the table, still holding the note, and think back to the day Striker arrived. I almost fell back into that broken little girl with one look into his eyes, but I’m not her anymore. I’ve worked hard over the years to let her go and become the type of woman my husband and children need me to be. Depression is not something that I will succumb to; I’m not that person anymore. I feel a smile tug at my lips, realizing I have everything I need right here in this home with my four men.

I have a husband who has stood by my side and brought me strength. I love Dalton more now than I can remember. He was right again. I am stronger than I think. I just need to be given the opportunity to see myself that way. Things will work out because I will make sure of it. I’m going to focus on finding a happy balance for this new family dynamic and let go any hope of maintaining a friendly relationship with Striker. We share a son; a brilliant little boy who loves hard and easily forgives.

I find my phone so I can call Dalton, only to get his voice mail. “Hey, baby, I just needed to say that I love you and I can’t wait to see you. I need you home with me. I don’t ever want to be apart like this again. I have missed you. Even though I can make it without you here, I’m just not me when you’re gone. Be fast returning home to us.”

After ending the call I decide to head over and pick up the boys from Riley. Maybe she can cancel her plans, and we can spend the day together with the kids. I miss her, too. We haven’t been able to spend a full day together since Dalton left, but I want to get back into some of my normal routines. I always felt like I was losing myself to being a mother and a wife, but looking at it now, after all the ordeals with Striker, I’m happy to play that role. That is who I am, I didn’t lose myself; I found myself when I became a mother and a wife. I found a woman that I’m happy to be. The mundane things in life are what keep me sane, and I’ve found a new appreciation for them.

*****

Walking into Riley’s house, I notice the kids are up. Their usual beds made from blankets on the floor are already folded and put away. I quietly walk toward the kitchen trying to surprise them. Riley is the only one standing there with her cell pressed against her ear.

“I’m not sure,” she says with a little frustration.

Slowly sneaking up behind her I wrap my good hand around her eyes, causing her to let out a yelp as she jumps out of her skin. “Guess who?” I yell.

Her elbow comes back and catches me in the gut with a little force but not enough to hurt. The phone is still pressed to her ear, and she takes a couple steps away from me while turning in my direction.

“I have to go. I’ll call you back tonight, okay?” She ends the call and narrows her eyes at me. “You bitch, you just scared the shit out of me.”

I let out a laugh. “Sorry, Ri, where are the kids?”

“They should be in Kiley’s room.”

“Hey, anyway you can cancel your plans for the day, and you two come hang out with us?”