Fractured Affections (The Affections Series Book 1) (6 page)

Change is something to be expected, since we were just kids when we were together. I’m sure he has changed, too. Maybe the person that I was so infatuated with as a teenager isn’t even in there anymore. If that’s the case, then being friends may not be so hard. I know that Dalton misses his cousin. They grew up together and were as close as brothers. I guess I could try to fix things with Striker, for Dalton’s sake. After all he has done for me over the years, I could do this for him.

I finish the laundry while thinking of doing something good for Dalt. He deserves it. He gave up all his relationships with his family for me. It’s time for a change. I can’t keep holding a grudge against our families for issues from the past. I can do this.

While Dalton is out of town doing something that will benefit our family, I will work on fixing things with Striker, so that things will not be strained between us anymore. After Striker left town, Dalton never had a friendship like that again. While I know they still talk, it’s never been the same because of me.

I never wanted to be the reason that Dalton and Striker’s relationship was so estranged. When we were younger, I always knew that Dalton loved me completely, but my heart belonged to Striker. I never, in my wildest dreams, thought that Striker felt the same, but after my eighteenth birthday we decided to give things a try.

Striker and I never flaunted our relationship. We kept to ourselves, for the most part, because we never wanted to hurt Dalton. That time was short lived; from the time Striker made me aware of his feelings, to the time he left town, we had only been involved for four and a half months.

It felt like such a tragedy when he left, but as I think back to that time now, I feel silly to think that anyone could make a lifetime commitment after four months. Maybe the love only felt so intense because I had never experienced it before. I never gave any other boys a chance in high school, because I never wanted to give up time with Dalton and Striker. Dalton would question me often about my interest in other boys, but I always told him that I had all the boy trouble I could handle with my best friends. Little did I know at the time, that statement would prove to be more than true.

“Hey, Mom, how is it going in here?” I turn to see Dylan walk into the laundry room, with a questionable look on his face.

“It’s going, baby, almost done. It’s got to be getting late, are your brothers in bed?”

“Yeah, they just went to their room a few minutes ago. I just wanted to check and make sure you were okay.”

“Of course I’m okay. Why are you asking?” I finish getting the laundry into the washer and get it going before turning to walk with Dylan to his room. “Come on, buddy, all finished for tonight.”

“Well, Striker came home and asked where he could find you, so I told him you were in doing laundry. Then a few minutes after he headed your way, he came back out, and slammed the door as he left the house. He just seemed upset.”

“Oh, well I don’t know. He was fine when we talked. We hadn’t seen each other, in a very long time, since Mom and Dad moved here. He just wanted to have lunch and catch up. I’m sure he is lonely since leaving his life behind to come here, honey.”

I brush my fingers through Dylan’s hair, and kiss him on the forehead, before wishing him a good night and head to my room. After getting settled, I lay there for a while staring up at the ceiling. I’m so lonely laying here without my husband. Sleeping has become a challenge since he left. My mind starts to wander.

What could I have said that upset Striker? The thought of having to sit with him to catch up tomorrow makes me uneasy. I feel a little guilty about it, but I don’t know how to start a conversation with him. It would be easier if things didn’t end so badly, but they did. Even though I’ve moved on, it’s still tough to completely forgive.

I go through all the possibilities as to what could be troubling Striker. Eventually, my mind wanders over to Dalton. I reach over, grab his pillow, and lay my head down on it, pulling the covers to my chin. After dwelling on my loneliness for a while, I grab my phone and dial his number. He has always reassured me that I can call him at anytime. I just need to hear his voice.

He answers after the third ring, sounding drained and groggy. Suddenly, I feel bad for calling.

“Hello. Rea baby, are you there?”

“Yeah, D, I’m here. Sorry to call so late. I’ve just been laying here for a while and still can’t fall asleep. I just thought hearing your voice may help.”

“Aw, baby, I told you to call anytime. You must have been reading my mind though, because I was just laying here thinking the same thing about you. I miss you guys so bad. This sounded like a good idea, until I got here. During the day when I’m up and busy, I do alright, but as soon as I crawl into bed and you’re not here, I miss you like crazy.”

I close my eyes and listen to Dalton talk about how much he misses me, too. The timbre of his voice washes over me, and I feel my lip begin to quiver. I can’t let him hear me cry. If he already isn’t doing well, then my crying will not do any good.

“I miss you, too,” I whisper.

“Tell me about your day, Rea. Did you ever get to follow up about your hand? How is it feeling?”

“It was just a normal day with the boys. They miss you too, D, but they’re hanging in there. My finger hurts but it’s tolerable. I have a follow up tomorrow, remember? I’m not really looking forward to that appointment. I just know I’m gonna need surgery.”

“Well, let’s pray for good results. Are you in bed?”

“Yeah. I have been for a while now, but I have a hard time getting comfortable and keeping warm without you here.”

Dalton chuckles, “Maybe it’s the lack of orgasm before bed. That usually tires you out. I know it does me. That’s the part I miss most about my daily routine.”

“Oh, stop, you know it’s not every day. But you could be right. Could you find a sex store, and buy one of those kits to make a replica of your penis? Then you could mail it to me and that problem will be solved.”

We are both laughing softly into the phone now. I’m so glad I called. I just have to remember that he misses me too, and that I could never be a bother to him. We need each other because we are a team, and that’s what a good marriage is about.

“Well, most days, I have the best wife ever. She never tells me no, so I guess it could be arranged to have my dick in the mail for you. I’ll check into that today. Make sure none of the kids check the mail until it arrives, cause the package will be huge. You know how excited kids get over large boxes. I would hate for them to open it because they would definitely be traumatized.”

“Oh my God, Dalton, don’t you dare mail me your penis. I was just joking.”

He is hysterically laughing at this point. I just know that he may actually send me the replica of his most adored appendage. Me and my big mouth. Now I have to reinforce the fact that opening someone else’s mail is a federal offense with the kids and that they could go to jail. Threatening them into fear is a much better option than telling them their father is sending his penis in the mail. That is something that stays with you.

“Come on, you know you would enjoy it. You could call me every night before bed with my dick in your hands. I could tell you exactly what I would do with it, if I was there.”

“Dalton, there is no way I’m having phone sex,” I say with a giggle.

“Come on, my sweet Rea. I know you want to touch that warm wet-“

“DALT! Stop. I’m not comfortable with that. Can we talk about something else? Please?” I end on a whisper and roll onto my back with a huff.

“Always so modest, Rea. It’s just me, baby. It could give us something to look forward to while I’m away, but we can change the subject. What’s going on at the house? Dylan called asking questions about Striker.”

“What?”

Dylan is so observant, plus he’s taking the role as, ‘man of the house,’ a little too seriously. Sometimes I wish he would just enjoy being a kid instead of always worrying about others.

“Yeah, he called earlier and said Striker seemed angry after talking to you in the laundry room. Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I have no idea what happened. He came into the laundry room to see if I would go to breakfast with him, so that we could work things out and maybe one day be friends again. All I said was that I prefer to just do coffee here.”

“Ok, so what’s wrong with breakfast? Why only coffee at the house?”

Do I really want to get into all of this with him? Why couldn’t the conversation stay on the light and fun side? Talking about Striker to Dalton makes me uncomfortable. I think that’s why I have avoided it for so long.

“Dalt, I’m just not comfortable, yet. I’ve been doing pretty well with him in the house.”

“Huh, really? What have you guys done or talked about with one another?”

Ok, so maybe I haven’t been doing so well, but just being able to be in the same house as him, without feeling angry or betrayed, is a step in the right direction. What does Dalton want from me? I just want to be cordial and keep my distance. I have too much history with Striker. Dalton knows that. If I get friendly with him, then I know he will become friendly with the boys, and I’m not ready for that.

“Alright, so maybe I haven’t put in a lot of effort, but I am no longer upset about the idea of him being in the house. I just don’t want to be best friends any time soon.”

“Listen, Rea. I know things were difficult for you in the past, when he left, but can you think about how difficult things have been for him? Think about all the things we have kept hidden all of these years. We are not perfect. He came back into our lives to help our family when I needed him. One phone call was all it took, with no questions asked. Please don’t think for a moment that he ever stopped caring about either of us.”

Why does he have to be so kind to everyone all the time? It’s part of the reason why I love him so much, but when he expects me to be able to show the same level of kindness I have a hard time agreeing. We speak for a little while longer about the boys and how they are holding up in Dalton’s absence. I hang up with the promise of an early phone call, so that Dalton can speak to all of us before we start our day.

I roll over, close my eyes, and burrow down into bed. I feel more at ease since hearing Dalton’s voice. I finally begin to doze off, when suddenly I’m jerked awake by a loud noise coming from the living room. I sit straight up in bed and feel my heartbeat race. I listen closer and definitely hear someone downstairs. I wonder if Striker is home. Slowly I slide my feet to the floor. My pulse is pounding in my ears as I make my way down the hall.

When my feet hit the stairs, I bend forward to peek into the living room and notice Striker standing there, trying to right the picture frames that he knocked over.

“Shit! Just stay up would ya?” he slurs.

I watch him while giggling to myself for a few minutes before heading down to help him.

“Striker, are you okay? I can take care of that.”

I reach out to touch his shoulder. As soon as my fingers graze his shirt, he spins around and out of my reach. I step back when I notice the rage in his eyes as he takes me in.

“Sorry to startle you. I just heard a loud noise and was afraid someone broke in. I just freak out easy because of the kids.”

He is still just standing there staring at me. I’m becoming very nervous and uneasy. I have seen Striker sad, depressed, and mad, but never like this. This is pure rage, an anger that scares me to see. It’s been so long since we have had a connection that I don’t know how to react. What if I make the wrong move, what will he do? My feet are cemented to the floor. I’m trying to appear calm, so that I don’t further aggravate him.

Striker starts to walk in my direction, and I’m forced to retreat until my back hits the wall. He towers over me and outweighs me by at least one hundred pounds. His hands crash against the wall next to my head, causing me to jump. His eyes are fixed on mine, and it takes a moment for them to focus.

After a few deep breathes he says, “What did I ever do to you, huh? What gives you the right to hate me? After all I have gone through, but you. Oh, you get your happily ever after, and you think you have the right to treat me like I wronged you.”

I’m completely stunned by his statement. He left me. Did he forget? Of course I have the right to be angry. Or at least I did at the time, and my marriage with Dalton has taken a lot of work. It never came easy. The fear he triggered is now twisting into anger.

“Do not talk to me like I had no right, Striker Knowles! You know nothing about me and my life over the past eleven years. You never once tried to speak with me. So don’t come into my home, in the middle of the night, drunk, and get in my face.”

“And why would you have the right? I should be the one who is angry.” Striker says, through clenched teeth.

“WELL, AREN’T YOU?” I scream.

My hand immediately clamps down over my mouth. We cannot continue this conversation like this. We could wake the kids, and I have no desire for them to know of my history with Striker.

“Please let me go back to bed. Maybe we can finish this in the morning, after we both calm down, and you sober up.”

We stare into each other’s eyes for a moment. Striker’s chest heavily rises and falls, and then he forcefully pushes from the wall to head to the guest room. Once I hear his door shut, I let my body slide down the wall and bury my face in my hands. I never expected an argument between Striker and me. Especially since Dalton just left days ago. How is this supposed to work? I have tried to keep my distance for a reason. We have too much history, too much unsettled business that I would rather lay buried.

I pick myself off the floor and make my way down the hall toward Striker’s closed bedroom door. I tiptoe as quietly as I can, and then lean my ear against the wood, straining to hear something from the other side. I start to give up after a few minutes of nothing, but just as I’m about to walk away, I can make out the faint sound of Striker crying. I place my palm flat against his door and close my eyes. Dalton was right. The man on the other side of this door is hurting. I can feel my heart break as I continue to listen.