Fractured Affections (The Affections Series Book 1) (9 page)

“I think it’s great. How are you feeling about it, though?” Dalton asks with a concerned look plastered on his face.

“I’m okay with it, I guess. We’ve had a few bad moments, but I really feel like it’s time to move on. I have to forgive the things that happened in the past. It’s not doing me any good to hold on to it. I know how close you guys were, and I want that for you again.”

His eyes crinkle again as a proud smile touches his lips. “I’m proud of you, baby. Striker was a big part of both of our lives. I hope you can accept him back into yours, also.”

I roll my eyes at his comment. While I do want to fix things with Striker, it will never be the same. Even before we started dating, I never only felt friendly toward him. I had always wanted more.

“I don’t want to accept him back into my life. That time has passed. I would rather start fresh and build a relationship based on the fact that I’m his cousin’s wife.”

“He was one of your closest friends growing up, how can you write off all those years?” He raises his eyebrows and watches me intently, waiting for my answer. I don’t know how to respond. I don’t want to worry Dalton and make it seem like my lack of trying comes from some deep-rooted feelings for Striker. While it is hard to spend time with Striker because he has always held a piece of my heart, it has always been my goal to never reveal it to Dalton.

“It’s…I don’t know, Dalt. Can you just let me work through all of this in my own way? I’m trying my best here. I did agree to go tonight, so that’s a start. Can we just not bring up the past? I need to move forward.”

“Okay, baby, have fun tonight. I miss you badly. I can’t wait to hold you again and kiss those soft lips.”

I kiss the tips of two fingers and press them over the camera of my phone. We both hang up with sad smiles. I’m not sure if seeing him helped or not. I only feel worried for him now. So he had a stomach bug, of course he’s going to look bad. It makes sense that he couldn’t talk last night, but why didn’t he just say that in his text?

When he is unwell it calls to me. I feel the need to take care of him. If he were here, he could be tucked in our bed with me next to him, stroking his hair until he fell asleep, but he’s completely alone. He’s a grown man and fully capable of caring for himself, but I still feel like he needs me. I’m sinking into this feeling of worry that I know will stay with me until Dalton is doing better.

Chapter Nine

Striker

It’s late afternoon and I’m doing a walkthrough of a house that I took over for Dalton. I need to make sure that things are going completely on schedule and meet the expectations of the homeowners. Tomorrow the owners will be by to meet me and go over the progress, so I like to be prepared if they have any questions. After speaking with one of our contractors, I make my way out to the work truck so I can head home.

Tonight will be a little tough on me, but I look forward to spending time with the three boys. They really are good kids, and I enjoy spending time with them. Ever since Dalton and Reagan moved out here, I would take a weekend, here and there, to come see him and the boys. A lot of the time we spent it out fishing on the pond. I know Dalton kept this from Rea. He would make a point of telling the boys that when we have a men’s weekend we keep it to ourselves and that their mommy didn’t need to know where they went and what they did.

I can’t say I agree with keeping things from Rea. The little that Dalton would talk about with me, gave me the feeling that if she did know we were spending time together that it would end, and the only person I would be able to visit would be Dalton. In a way, I’m glad he gave me the opportunity to know his children. Now, I’m afraid she’ll find out and I’ll have to suffer her wrath instead of my cousin.

My mind is racing from my earlier conversation with Dalton. I get the weird feeling that he is hiding something from me. Shit everything seems off. Why now? Why is he fighting for Rea and I to fix things? Why didn’t he fight hard for things to work out when I returned from the military? He pretty much kept me hidden from her, like a dirty little secret, and it’s been tough.

I’ve had to live with the knowledge that my cousin, my best friend, my brother; married the girl that to this day has my heart in a death grip. I have never been able to move on from her. While I have fucked countless women, none of them have been able to break me from the chains that strangle me every day. I have survived, but I have not lived. Many times I have questioned my decision to move back to our hometown.

After moving back, I bought a home not far from my aunt’s house. There are so many memories around town that the three of us created. Then there were the stolen moments that Reagan and I had together. Our woods haunted me the most. I couldn’t help but go back and visit them, just to feel close to her again. Why couldn’t I move on? I tortured myself by visiting all the places that meant something to us, over and over, throughout the years. Maybe if I hadn’t accepted the offer Dalton made me, about taking over the business, I would’ve never gone back.

I’d like to think I would have had a life that I always pictured for myself. I wanted to create a home with a loving wife and the laughter of children. I wanted my family to have a bond so strong that nothing could break it. I wanted to create a family like the one I had with my parents, before it was stolen from me. Nothing was ever the same after that. All I ever wanted to do was experience true happiness again. As I snicker to myself, I realize that was stolen from me too.

I still don’t understand what happened. After talking to Reagan in the kitchen, I fear that things went down differently in her eyes than mine. My aunt was certain that she walked in on Dalton and Reagan together, in his room. He was holding her while she cried, discussing how they were going to tell me that they were together. After battling myself on making the right decision to leave Reagan and join the military, I decided to pack my bags and leave without a word to either of them. They only person who knew where I was going, at the time, was my aunt.

I just walked away: never asking any questions, never finding any peace or closure. My decisions were rash and solely based on my feelings at the time. I never thought about her or Dalton, and how my leaving would affect them. After hearing my aunt paint the picture of a life without Reagan in my arms, and in the arms of my cousin, leaving was my only option. I wouldn’t have survived watching them together. It took me a while to come meet Dalton and his oldest son.

Dalton always reached out to me. At first, I was consumed with anger and ignored every attempt he made to speak to me. It wasn’t until their oldest was three, and Rea was pregnant again with Max, that I realized if she was happy that was all I could ask for in life. I would not interfere. I would forgive Dalton because I missed him, too. While I may not have been able to have everything I wanted in life, I could have my cousin back. He was just as important to me. Maybe, that’s why their betrayal hurt so much.

I park in the driveway, next to Reagan’s black SUV, and make my way into the house. The sound of her voice travels from the kitchen. I swear she lives in that room. Always taking care of others, but I guess with three boys in the house, there are a lot of meals to be made. I lean against the doorway and watch her work on dinner. She is still so beautiful. I can’t help but let my eyes wander down her body. She’s wearing these tight black leggings, showing off all her curves. My thoughts drift in a direction less PG, causing my heart to beat at a faster rate.

Dalton knows I never stopped loving Rea. It makes me wonder why he asked me to stay here while he’s out of town. I’m not sure I could have a man come into my home, with my woman, knowing that he looks at her in more than a platonic way. It’s in this moment, quietly watching her, that I realize a friendship with Reagan will be almost impossible for me. In my heart, she is still my Alma and always will be. I could never cross Dalton in that way, though. I’m just not that kind of man.

I walk slowly to the counter next to her and rest my hands on its edge. “Need any help with anything?” I ask with a smile.

“Oh Shit!” Reagan jumps back startled by my approach. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

I can’t help but laugh at her surprise. I want to reach out and steady her but I think better of it. I don’t want to risk the contact. Last time she ran into me in the hallway, my heart began to pound in my chest, and all of those fucked up feelings I’ve been suppressing for years, started to creep up like a raging fire inside of me.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. What do you have going on here? Anything I can help with?” I ask pointing to the cutting board she has out. I notice she has a rubber glove covering her injured hand. “How is the finger? Didn’t you follow up with an ortho?”

“Yeah, I need to talk to you about that, actually. They want to do surgery.” She places her knife on the board and turns to look at me. “Which means, I may need your help with Dalton gone. I hate to ask this of you, but once the surgery is done, I may be in a weird looking splint for a while that keeps my wrist and fingers bent like this.” She lifts her hand in almost a cupping position and then drops it and huffs out a sigh. “How do you take care of three boys and a home with your hand like this?”

Reagan lifts her hand in the same position again, with a goofy look on her face, and bounces her hand around like she is mimicking a hopping bunny. I bite my bottom lip to keep from laughing, but eventually I can’t resist anymore.

“Gah, I know, how ridiculous is that going to be?” She lifts her arms like the idea is absurd. “Then there are lunches, dinners, and laundry, not to mention all the office work. I won’t be able to type.”

“I’m here anyway. I’ve taken care of myself for years. I think I can handle some household duties, if need be. When do you have it done?”

“I don’t know. I freaked when the doctor told me how long I could possibly be in a splint. It’s difficult with Dalton gone until God knows when.”

Reagan looks up at me with sadness in her eyes. I know she is doing her best in all of this, but she never was good with change. She’s trying to be strong in front of me and for the boys. I just offer her an almost apologetic smile and reach for the cutting board.

“Alright, what am I doing here? You go sit, have a drink if you need to, but try to relax. Tonight was supposed to be about fun. I’m sorry I asked about your hand, but I will do whatever you need me to. I’m here until Dalton is finished with his job and returns home. So use me and abuse me, Rea. This may be your only chance.” I turn around and wink in her direction, trying to lighten the mood. I’m not sure it went over so well, with the way she is looking at me like a deer caught in the headlights. I hold both my hands up in surrender. “Just a joke, sorry that came out wrong. I didn’t mean it that way.”

Her lips press together and she nods her head in quick little movements. “Thank you, Striker, for everything. For coming here to stay with us, and helping with the business, and for offering to take the boys and I to do something fun tonight. They need that.”

I return to making dinner and soon enough we are all seated at the table. After watching the boys devour their plates, I clean up, ordering Rea out of the kitchen to relax until we leave. I can’t handle her sitting there, watching me in silence, anymore. Even though my back was facing her, I could still feel her eyes watching me as I moved throughout the kitchen. I need just a few minutes before spending more time with her.

“Are you guys ready? I’m all finished.” I grab the keys off the table by the door and we head out to the car.

Three very anxious boys run past me, down the porch steps.

“Shotgun!” Max calls out and the other two whine in response.

“Nah, you all are in the back, let your mother sit up front,” I say with slight authority. They all grumble and climb into their seats.

Once we are all situated in the car, we head onto the main highway that will take us to the go-cart complex. It’s about a fifteen-minute drive, and I can’t help but sneak peeks of Rea out the corner of my eye. Her arms are crossed over her chest and her head is tilted back, resting on the seat as she gazes out the passenger door window. I feel tightness in my chest as I take her in. She looks so sad since I’ve been here. I wonder how the past eleven years have been for her.

I continue driving, while fighting the urge to reach over and rest my hand on her thigh. I want to comfort her, so she knows she’s not alone. Even if I can only be her friend, today it’s enough. I just can’t witness the pain present on her face anymore. I want to help make her smile.

“Hey, Rea? Remember that time when we were all young and hanging out in Dalton’s room, and you dropped that bomb on me and Dalt, but would never admit to it, even his cat was scratching to get out the door,” I say to her with a big cheesy grin.

“What are you talking about, Striker? What bomb?”

“Oh, you remember, it was the worst SBD ever.”

“What’s an SBD?” Colt asks from the back seat. Everyone laughs but Reagan. She stares at me like she has no idea where I’m going with this.

“Ha! It’s a silent but deadly fart,” Dylan says and all three boys can’t stop laughing.

Rea just keeps staring at me. I can’t help but laugh harder at the angry look she is giving me now.

“Remember now, Rea? We almost died from asphyxiation that day.” I wink at her and look back at the road.

“Striker that was never me. You guys blamed that on me for years. It had to have been either you or Dalton. I would never fart in front of people.”

“Mom you fart in front of us all the time,” Colt states proudly and roars of laughter burst through the car. Reagan turns in her seat to give Colt a death glare, but fails when she can’t hold back a tiny laugh.

“Gosh, Reagan, you never could hold it in, could you?” I say.

She swings her left arm and slaps me hard on the shoulder. I look at her with a shocked expression and grab my shoulder, but I’m soon laughing with the rest of them. I knew I could get the boys going with the mention of farting, but I feel relieved when Reagan’s face shows signs of happiness. That just became my new goal while I’m here; make Reagan laugh.