Mended Affections (The Affections Series Book 2) (11 page)

"What would your uncle want to do with a drunk? That's what makes things hard to believe," I say.

"From what I understand, she's been sober for a while, Rea." He sounds concerned when he answers. "I know I don't hear you talk about your mom much, but do you keep contact with her at all?"

Immediately I become defensive and pace back and forth in front of Striker. I don't know why. I always felt like I had a good reason to stay away, but at some point my opinion took a turn. I began to realize that our seclusion from our family wasn't just to maintain our sanity, but to cover up our own lies. I pulled away for more reasons than my overbearing mother-in-law and alcoholic mother. I pulled away because of me. I was a weak, selfish, new mother and wife, out to keep her lies buried.

"I can't remember the last time we spoke. It was always hard to talk to her, at some point I just didn't call anymore. I guess she decided to do the same." I don't know how else to answer that question.

Big strong arms stop me, pulling me in close. "We'll work on all of this, Rea. You don't have to be best friends with everyone, but I know you won't be able to have the sort of life you’re looking for now, until all of your past is truly put behind you."

I nod against his chest in agreement and breathe in his scent. Comfort. Amongst all the other crazy thoughts and emotions, I feel comfort. I focus in on that and let it blanket me, just as Striker is. We stand like this for a few minutes, in complete silence. My hands are wrapped around his biceps, grasping them in a firm grip, to help support myself as I start feeling weak from the events of the day.

"Reagan. Can we talk in the other room for a second? What I have to say won't take long," Mrs. Knowles says from the kitchen doorway.

Reluctantly, I pull away from Striker, a little embarrassed being caught in our embrace. "Sure," I say, and follow her into the office.

I'm standing behind her, as she looks around the room. "It's like you can feel him when you come in here. Do you ever find yourself hanging in his office, just to feel close to him?"

"All the time," I whisper, struck by the fact that when I feel overwhelmed or in need of my best friend, I find him here. I never thought about it though, but she's right. It's like he's here with me every time I sit quietly at his desk or lay on his couch. This office is where Dalton spent most of his time. I haven't changed a thing about this room, and I don't plan to.

Mrs. Knowles walks over to the couch, takes a seat, then looks up at me as I stand a few feet in front of her, arms crossed over my chest, trying to protect myself from what comes next with her.

"He would want you to be happy," she says, catching me off guard.

"I know, he lived his whole life making me happy." I shift on my feet, unsure about where she is taking this.

Leaning forward, she crosses her arms and rests them on her knees. "It's okay to move on. Don't give up a life of happiness over things that you can't change. We all miss Dalton. I want him back every day. I also want back the life I gave up to live with an unfaithful man. I've lost so many years. Don't make the same mistake."

I know what she's telling me. It's just hard to hear it from her. I've already decided; I want to try and move on. I want my kids to be surrounded by laughter and joy, complete and total happiness. I want all of that, which I've realized includes Striker, but I worry about what people will think. He hasn't even been gone for a year. What kind of person would I be to move on already? "How can I move on so soon?"

"Is it soon? Don't compare it to how long Dalton has been gone. Compare it to how long you and Striker have been apart. If you don't see the way he looks at you, then you are blind. That man has never once stopped loving you.” Mrs. Knowles stands and walks to me, placing her hands on my upper arms. "I see you battling yourself over this. It's written all over your face, but what is the right time? Have you thought about that? Is the right time set by someone else's standards, or is the right time set by what your heart is telling you to do? Don't fight what you feel in here." Her thin finger points at my chest.

I don't respond as she walks out of the room. I know she's right. God, since when did I ever agree with my mother-in-law? I still feel tied to a man who is no longer with me. Dalton is still a very prominent part of my life. I think of him every minute of every day, but if I'm being honest with myself, then I would realize every time I ache for him is when I’m in need of his friendship. I don't miss him as my husband. I miss him as my best friend, and that hurts me too. I want to miss him for all that he was to me.

Maybe this is Dalton forcing us all back together from up above. I'm sure even in death he would never give up on his family. He has always known best what people need. I walk over and plop down on the couch, resting my head in my hands.

I want him here. I want him to hold me and tell me everything will be okay. I need to hear his voice. He always knew what to say, and I've relied on him my entire life, which makes it hard to stand on my own feet some days.

"Rea?" Striker calls out, as he enters the room, taking a seat next to me.

I lift my head, giving him my attention. "Hey."

"Listen," he says, grabbing my hand, causing it to disappear between the two of his. "Please don't feel like things have to be decided today. I think you’re right about needing to take our time. After what happened earlier today, it hit me that I'm going about this all wrong. I'm looking to get back the love we had, but that's impossible, Rea."

Impossible? He knows just as well as I do that we never lost the love we had for each other. I can't handle all of these up and downs. A pressure builds in my head. I firmly press my fingers to my temples and close my eyes tight. I was doing so well, focusing on my life, every part of it except my love life. I should just keep that up. Maybe just pretend that love only exists between me as a mother and my children. Speaking of which, it's Thanksgiving, and I need my focus to be on them. Why did I decide to deal with all of this today, giving in to emotions that I don't know how to handle yet.

I stand, not ready to speak with Striker about what should or shouldn't be between us. As I take my first step toward the door, his grip stops me. "Let me finish," he says, moving until his body is pressed against mine, and he whispers in my ear. "I want you, bad enough that it hurts, but I want you to stay with me for the long haul, Alma. We can't have what we once did, because that love fell apart."

I close my eyes, as his words touch every part of me. My lip trembles as a wave of sadness travels through me, causing my skin to tingle. I release a deep breath through my nose and he continues.

"Let's start over. I want to be with the woman you are now, the one who was once married and grieves the loss of that man. I want to learn about everything from your past, all your hurt and pain, and every memory that brings a smile to that beautiful face of yours. I want dinners, with just the two of us. I want romantic getaways. I want to take my time with you, relearn every inch of your body like it's the first time. Let's find new love, Rea. You deserve that, not what I have been giving you so far. I want better for us."

His words cause my chest to tighten. What he's suggesting sounds beautiful, and I find that I want that too. A sob breaks free from my lips, and tears run freely down my cheeks, as I turn to look into Striker's eyes. I'm nodding my head, unable to form words. His hands reach up until they are splayed against each side of my face. The expression he wears melts me into a puddle on the floor. His eyes are full of everything I feel in this moment, love, confusion, grief, want, and need.

I wait for his lips to press against mine, but they never do. He releases his hold on me after our shared moment of understanding passes, and we spend the rest of our first Thanksgiving, without Dalton, creating new traditions. Never again will I eat turkey on this holiday. We'll celebrate with a late breakfast, ice cream for dinner, and whatever unorthodox activity we decide to do each year. This year we made snow angels on the kitchen floor, after I accidentally dropped a bag of flour. Snow angels turned into flour flying through the air as we tossed it toward one another. What could have been a frustrating moment, turned into one of the best times I've had in a while. There is laughter and joy in my house tonight, and a huge mess, but it was all worth it.

Striker

I never thought I would be dating again. I spent most of my life sleeping with random women, just to take the edge off, and most I never spoke to again. I've loved one woman my entire life. One. Seems pretty impossible, but it's true. When I first returned into her life, everything about her seemed the same, her looks, the way she smelled. God, I love the way she smells. Even her personality had seemed to not change. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

It's funny how time and circumstance can change a person. Reagan went from this strong, full of sass girl, to a woman so weak and fragile. Panic attacks, depression, negative thoughts, and a permanent frown etched on her face; I find myself walking on eggshells when around her.

She was so bright and full of life when we were young. I stole that from her. I know that it's not entirely my fault, but I’ll always wonder.

Dalton always babied and protected her, but that just helped to hold her back from moving forward. I don't want to discredit their life together; he loved her just as much as I always have. They seemed happy with one another, but she was not herself after I left. Now I'm back and he's gone. There is still this sadness about her, but there is also this light shining; a light that she has found on her own and should be proud of. When I catch her smiling at times, while she thinks no one is looking, I wonder what puts that smile on her face.

It's been two weeks since I told her I want to date her again. Not the old her, but who she is now. I want to be a part of her life, her equal and other half, not the one who hides her from all the world's tragedies. If there is one thing she has made clear, it's that she needs to experience the pain and work through it on her own. Her group grief counseling has helped her move in a good direction, helping to guide her toward what she needs in order to heal.

The friends she has made there are amazing. I haven't met all of them, but one day about three weeks ago, a little old lady knocked on our door, Mrs. Veil. Her original intent was to check on Rea, but when I told her she wasn't home, Mrs. Veil walked into our home anyway.

"I take it you're Striker," she says.

"Yes, ma'am. That would be me." I smile down at the elderly woman.

"Well, Striker, I have a thing or two I'd like to say to a handsome young man like yourself." Mrs. Veil tugs her purse higher onto her shoulder and crosses her arms.

"What can I help you with?" I ask.

"When a beautiful young woman has suffered the kind of loss Rea has, she needs something special to really move forward. She doesn't need to rely on something from her past. A painful past, I might add. She needs something new. A love so great, that he is willing to put all his feelings aside and give her everything she deserves." Her voice is soothing, but stern.

I don't know how to respond. This little woman has burst through my door, unexpected, and started telling me what Reagan needs. I can't help but smile at this tiny woman, standing in front of me. "What should I do then?"

Mrs. Veil steps forward and places her cold, frail hand against my cheek, and looking at me like my grandmother used to when I was a very small child. "Love her from the beginning. Date the poor girl for who she is now. Life changes a person. Don't try to get back what you once had. She deserves for a man to knock on her door and take her on dates. She's never had that as a grown woman. Sweetie, it's what she deserves."

I didn't respond, as she turned and walked out our door. I never thought about things this way, and it didn't hit me until I almost took Rea on a bathroom sink. It confuses me to feel this way, but I'm thankful that my aunt interrupted us that day. While I desperately want to sink deep inside of Reagan, probably more than I want my next breath, our first time together again should not be a quick fuck in a bathroom.

Here I stand, leaning against my work truck, phone pressed against my ear, waiting for Riley to answer her phone. I'm now the man who calls people to babysit, so I can go on a date. It's almost laughable with my history.

"Hello, Striker," Riley answers.

"Morning, Riley. How are things going? We haven't seen you in a while," I say. Riley has not shown her face around our home in months, which is rather rare, but she will not let on to why when Reagan asks.

"I've just had a lot going on. Stuff I'd rather not get into right now, I'm trying get out the door for work," she says. Her voice sounds flat and void of all emotion. That's not your typical Riley, and I can't help but feel alarmed by it.

"I wanted to take Reagan on a date tonight, and I was wondering if you could watch the boys, but now after talking to you, I'm a little worried. What's really going on, Riley? It's been months since we've seen you." I focus in on the call, trying to listen for change on her end that may give away her mood. Is she breathing deep? Maybe I will catch her crying, something, anything, but not this deadness she broadcasts through the phone.

She's silent for a moment, before she answers in a lowered voice. "Rea's been bothering me for weeks, I told her just like I will tell you. Stop asking, I'm fine."

I don't know how to respond to her harsh response. As my brain tries to piece some words together, Riley continues.

"I'm sorry, Striker. I wish I could help you, but I have something going on tonight." With that, she hangs up the phone.

Fuck, I pull the phone away from my ear, staring at it in confusion. We need to get over to her house. This is not like her at all, and the only thing that settles my thoughts, is the fact that she is still going to work. At least there she is surrounded by others who care about her. Rea has told me in the past, that Riley is an amazing legal administrative assistant to a highly requested lawyer, who looks out for Riley, in and out of the office.

Deciding to leave things alone until the weekend, I dial my aunt's number. I hope she's available and Reagan goes along with it. I just want one night.

"Hello," she answers.

"Aunt Becky." I push off my truck, when I hear her voice, and begin to slowly pace, back and forth. "Hey, I wanted to take Rea out for a bit tonight, just the two of us, and we don't really have anyone to watch the kids. Would you mind coming over and keeping an eye on them?"

"I could, honey, but is Reagan okay with it?" she asks, sounding surprised that I asked.

"Um, well, I'd like to surprise her. Maybe you can plan on being there around seven. I'll tell her about my plans to take her out. If she isn't good with the idea, I'll call in enough time so you don't waste a trip," I say.

"Okay, I can do that." She sounds hopeful.

"If you don't hear from me, then I'll see you at seven." I feel excitement rise in my chest.

"See you then and, Striker."

"Yeah."

"I hope she says yes, for you and for me. Good luck, honey."

We end our call, and I feel more hopeful than I have in a while. I get to take my girl on a date. It's not going to be anything fancy, but it will be perfect for us. I just hope she agrees to let my aunt watch the kids. I end my pacing and get back to work. The sooner I get home, the longer I'll have to convince her to have a night out, just the two of us.