Fractured Affections (The Affections Series Book 1) (7 page)

I have to do as Dalton asked of me. Tomorrow will be the day that I completely forgive Striker. The anger he displayed tonight was a reflection of the pain he feels inside. I know that pain. I used it to lash out after Striker left. I don’t want to see him like that again. No one deserves to feel that way. I was always Striker’s freedom from that hurt, but who does he turn to now?

I feel a slight pang of jealousy as I realize that he is probably committed to someone else, by now. With this realization, I’m disappointed with myself because I shouldn’t care who he is with, or what he does with his personal life. I’m happily married and the mother to three boys. I need to head back to my room and clear my head of this moment.

*****

It took a little while to fall asleep last night, but I awoke this morning with a new determination. Why can’t I learn to be friends with Striker again? I think I may need this just as much as he does. Repeating last night is not an option. It was one of the scariest moments of my life, and I hate how Striker was the cause.

I return home from getting the boys to school and start a fresh pot of coffee. Trying to compromise, I decide to cook breakfast. I’m thinking greasy is the way to go since he had a night out at the bar, and from my experience, the greasier the better. Sausage and eggs sound like a good choice. I have just enough for the two of us. Things take a little bit longer to accomplish because my finger is wrapped and throbbing. I’m just about finished when I hear a chair slide out from breakfast bar.

“Good morning, Striker, how did you sleep?”

I don’t get a response, so I turn around with his plate in my hand and am met with a puzzled look on Striker’s face. I try not to stand and stare, but his hair is messy in a sexy way, and he is sitting in front of me with no shirt on. Holy shit! I may be in trouble. I expected him to be in great shape, but he is beyond that. His arms are folded across the counter making his biceps bulge, and his chest is sculpted and smooth. He is covered with beautiful tattoos that are hard to make out from this distance. Curiosity courses through me. I want to study them in detail. My eyes betray me; traveling down his stomach to find abs that would be a joy to run my hands over.

I quickly snap myself out of my haze and walk over to place his breakfast on the counter in front of him.

“Would you like some coffee?” I say, after clearing my throat.

“Um, yeah, sure would. Thank you,” he replies, still sounding a little unsure of the situation.

“I know you wanted to go out to breakfast, so I thought I would compromise and make you breakfast here. I hope you’re hungry,” I say, while trying to smile.

Striker reaches for the plate, moving it closer to him, and then takes a bite of his sausage. After watching him eat for a moment, I turn away and begin to clean up the dishes. I can feel the blush creep up my neck from my embarrassment after staring.

“Rea? Could you please come sit with me?”

I finish cleaning the pan I’m working on and place it in the dish rack. I struggle to remove my wet rubber gloves, then make my way around the counter to take a seat next to him. A wave of uncertainty crashes into me, but I push myself to keep moving. Once I’m rested on the stool, I place my hands in my lap. I’m unable to bring my eyes up to his, so I focus on a frayed piece of my bandage.

“Please look at me, Reagan. I can’t speak to you while you stare at your lap.”

“Um, could you please go put a shirt on? It may make this easier, if you weren’t half naked.”

My discomfort escalates when he finds my question entertaining. His laugh is deep and throaty. I should have just kept my mouth shut and dealt with it, but there is no way we would get very far into this before I would have to walk away and take a deep breath. Dalton is toned and in great shape but not this bulky at all. They actually resemble each other a great deal, except for the color of their eyes, height, and now bulk. Where Dalton’s eyes are blue, Striker’s are brown, and he has Dalton by at least two inches in height.

The sound of his chair scraping the floor catches my attention, so I look up to watch him leave the kitchen. It doesn’t take long before he is walking back in with sweats that hang low on his hips, and a t-shirt that is stretched tightly across his chest and arms. Okay, that really did not help. When I look up, I catch a smirk still lingering on his face for a brief moment before his expression flattens out and he takes a seat again.

“Better, Rea?” he says.

I try to respond, but it only comes out as a whisper, “Yeah, thank you.”

“Thank you for breakfast. I don’t really deserve it after how I acted last night. I’m sorry about what happened. I don’t really remember everything that was said, but I do remember how angry I was and that I probably scared you.”

I can hear the sincerity in his voice, and it makes me all the more forgiving of his past behaviors. Maybe we really can work this out enough to be friends. I only fear that his being here will cause a disruption to my family, and I don’t want that. I don’t want my children’s lives to change in anyway. They are all happy, except about their father’s absence, but once he returns all will be right again.

“It’s okay, Striker, I forgive you. I just didn’t understand what happened last night that set you off like that. I’m sorry if it seemed like I have been ignoring you, but this is not easy for me. I should have taken into consideration that this is probably not easy on you, either.”

“That’s a huge understatement.”

“I should have tried to make your stay more comfortable. I know I would have a hard time leaving my life behind for an unknown amount of time, but Dalton says you did that for us at the drop of a hat. I really appreciate you being here to help out.”

Striker lets out a cold chuckle and furrows his brow. “Yeah, that’s the hard part, leaving home.”

“Well, tell me then, what can I do to make this easier for you?”

“Rea, I’m going to say something, and I don’t want it to be a problem. I have to get this off my chest, and then I just want to work on finding a common ground between us, so that we can be friends. Dalton means a lot to me, so I don’t want to cause any problems.”

“I’m all ears,” I say, but I have no idea what he is about to say, and my heart begins to pound in my chest. I swallow hard and wait patiently for him to begin, but he remains silent. I watch his face twist like he is having a hard time putting his thoughts into words.

“Striker, whatever it is, please just tell me. I’m on the edge of my seat here.”

His eyes snap up to mine. His mouth opens and then shuts again, before he finally starts to speak. “Over the years, I’ve had a hard fucking time understanding how this happened. I knew that there was a bond between you and Dalton, but why did you never tell me? I would have never interfered, just like I haven’t for eleven years.”

Tell him what exactly? There was nothing to tell when Striker was still in the picture. What did he think happened? “Striker, I don’t understand your question.”

Striker rubs his hands up and down his face, and his muscles tense with frustration. He jumps from his stool and begins to pace the kitchen with his hands on his hips and stares down to the floor.

“Come on, Rea!” He extends his hands out and looks me dead in the eye. “You know what I’m asking here. Don’t pull some shit, like you don’t understand. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

I stare at him, feeling confused. I try to think back to before he left me. Nothing happened between Dalton and me. My stomach drops as I realize that he thinks I was with Dalton while I was with him. How could he ever think that? I was desperately in love with him. That would have never been possible. I look up to him and my bottom lip begins to tremble.

“I understand the question, what I don’t understand is why you are asking it. How could you think that I would do that to you when we were together? It wasn’t possible. Even after you left my heart clung to you. I was a shell, just trying to get by. Dalton was there when I needed him most, just like he always was. This unexpected conversation is not going to lead us anywhere good. So can we skip working out the past, and just get to the part where we learn to be friends?”

My words quiver but I don’t shed a tear. I promised myself that I would hold it together when I was in front of him, no more breakdowns. Striker is standing there staring at nothing, with a puzzled look. I know he is battling some thoughts in his head.

Striker finally clears his throat and speaks. “Um, I just need a minute to work some things out in my head. Excuse me.”

I watch as he turns and heads to the office. My thoughts are jumbled as I sit and stare down the empty hall Striker turned out of. How was there ever any confusion between us? How I felt about him? I had loved him since we were young, for years before we were together. I had never thought of another boy that way. My stomach clenches as I realize, he didn’t ever understand how strong my love was for him. He always did that. He always doubted that anyone could ever love him completely.

He always told me that after his parent’s death, he felt like an intruder in other people’s lives, not really having a life of his own. His aunt never treated him the same as Dalton. She was a tough woman to please, still is. I always thought that was part of what made our bond stronger, the lack of a loving family.

We were each other’s family, but how can I change the outcome? I think of my kids and Dalton. Without Dalton, I wouldn’t have the life I live now. How do you regret any decisions that were made, when good things came from those choices?

My life is here with my family. I can’t change that, wouldn’t want to. It took me a long time to get to this point. It took years of fighting and crying to find happiness within my home. Dalton has been my sole support system, even when I couldn’t get out of bed every day. He was there every morning, making sure I got to school. He would sit and watch me until I forced myself to eat. He helped me survive one of the toughest times of my life. I learned that there is so much more to love than what I had so far in life.

Dalton knew I loved Striker with ever part of my being, but Dalton was selfless in his love for me. He only saw me and my needs and pushed his to the side. Sadness takes over as I remember those days and my vision blurs. I fight with everything I have not to let tears spill over, but I lose that battle and they run freely down my cheeks.

The weeks that followed, after Striker left, were hard. I barely remember much from that time. I was unrecognizable between the amount of weight that I lost and the lack of care I took for myself. When I would look in the mirror, I can remember the soulless eyes that stared back at me. It still hurts to think of myself that way. I just wanted to burrow into the darkness of my pain and never come out again.

Over time, the darkness was too much and the crushing pain bore down on me. It was such a heavy weight and the only release I found was through cutting. The thought of taking a fine razor blade to parts of my body that no one could see, causes a shiver to run down my spine. I was that lost, but Dalton was there like a knight in shining armor.

One day, while lost to the hollowness inside me, I took a razor deeply to my upper thigh while in the shower. I can remember the feeling of pain running from my body as the blood flowed down my leg. My bottom hit the floor hard, after sliding down the cold shower wall. I was lost in my falsely created relief when the bathroom door slammed open. The curtain was yanked back, but I could not raise my eyes. My world was folding in on itself.

Strong arms scooped me up and carried me to my room, laying me on my bed. Warm towels and blankets wrapped around me and fingers ran through my hair. After my breathing calmed, I felt a hand on my chin, turning my face to meet his. Dalton pressed his lips to my forehead for what seemed like an eternity. I closed my eyes and let my best friend’s comfort surround me. After that day he never left my side.

Every night, Dalton would sneak from his room, after his parents were asleep, and hold me while I slept. He made me breakfast every morning and made sure I went to school. He walked me to every class, while holding firmly to my hand. He was my comfort; he was my constant. I have always been able to rely on him. That has not changed over the years. He is still everything I need.

After my conversation with Striker, I’m afraid to discuss our past and what happened. It doesn’t matter anymore. I don’t want to play the “what if” game. Dalton is my husband and that will never change. I shake the memories from my head, returning to cleaning up the kitchen. I get everything put away and turn to head upstairs for a shower. As I round the corner to the hallway, I run straight into Striker. The contact catches me off guard and I let out a yelp, placing my hands on his chest to steady myself.

Striker reaches up, grabbing my wrist, withdrawing my hands from his chest. We look at each other for a minute silently, before he steps around me saying, “I’ll be back in a while. I need to go out for a bit. I’ll take it easy tonight, okay? No need for a repeat of last night. Maybe one day this week, I can take you and the boys to the go-cart track I saw the other day. What do you think?”

My mind is still in a fog from our conversion, so I respond without much thought. “Sure, Striker, the boys would love that. Have a good time out.”

Chapter Eight

Reagan

“Hey, Reagan, over here.” Riley calls across the coffee shop. I make my way through the tables, shrug out of my jacket, and take a seat across from her at the table.

“Morning, Ri. Sorry we couldn’t get together sooner. It’s been busy and stressful since Dalton left.” I reach across the table for the coffee Riley ordered for me and place it to my lips. Riley is practically bouncing out of her seat with excitement, as I take her in. She has been dying to tell me about this new man in her life for over a week and would only do so in person. “So go ahead, Ri, tell me all about him.”

“Well,” she says and tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear before continuing, “he is something. I will tell you that. We met at the bar you and I go to for drinks. I’ve never seen him there before, but he is definitely an eye catcher.”