Mended Affections (The Affections Series Book 2) (15 page)

"I'll talk to Kiley. She usually doesn't hide things from me, but I need to put ice on this ankle first and get a good look at it. It hurts like hell." I look down at my foot, trying to bend at the ankle. Everything is still moving okay, but the pain is almost intolerable.

"How's it feel, Rea? You took a pretty big fall there."

"I don't think it's broken, just hurts pretty bad." I grip tighter around his neck, as we climb the stairs to the back porch.

When we enter the kitchen, both kids are seated at the kitchen table. Maybe Striker told them we wanted to speak with them. Striker sits me in a chair across from them. Their runaway items block my view and I push them to the side and take in the look of shame on both of their faces. "So, who wants to go first?"

Kiley looks up at me. "It's was my fault, Aunt Rea. I couldn't go home, but I didn't know where to go, and I knew Max would stay with me."

I feel my stomach churn. "Why couldn't you go home?"

Her eyes fall from mine before she speaks. "I can't talk about it."

"Why?" I ask, with concern.

Her little lip trembles. "Because, I don't want to."

Max hugs her. My eyes brim with tears as I take in these two kids sitting in front of me. I watch them, his head on her shoulder, while tears drip slowly, one by one from her eyes. "Kiley, you’re safe here, honey. You can tell me anything, and if you need to stay here, I can talk to your mom. I don't want you to ever feel like you need to run away and hide. We all love you."

"Yeah, okay. Thanks, Ri. I'll call you back in a few," Striker says, ending his call with Riley as he walks into the kitchen.

I turn in his direction. "Was she okay?"

"I guess. She's just upset. She was pretty scared when she didn't find them at a park close to here." Striker slides out the chair next to me, joining us at the table.

Max releases his hold on Kiley, turning back in his seat to face us again. "So what's my punishment?"

"Punishment? I'd really like to know why you would disappear, let's figure out what you were thinking first." I reach up, wiping my eyes, before my tears have a chance to escape.

Max's eyes shift to Striker for a fraction of a second before he looks at his lap. I look over to see if Striker caught the look too. His eyes meet mine, and he smiles sadly. Max doesn't want to speak in front of Striker, and he picks up on that. He only hesitates for a moment before retreating back into the living room.

I lean forward, folding my hands on top of the table. "What is it, Max?"

"I just don't like it," he says matter of fact.

"You have to help me out, bud. You don't like what?" I ask; confused by what he means.

"I don't like him taking you on dates." Max is tense as he speaks.

"Max, Striker has been living with us for a while now, honey. He's been here every day, helping our family." I know Striker said he mentioned having a problem with it earlier today, but hearing it for myself is hard. I don't want to make things harder on him, but Striker's done a lot for Max. He's taken over the role of father, even before Dalton died. I know he misses him. We all do, including Striker. It's something that actually brings me closer to him. He knows my pain, but he helps me want to live. If I lost him again, I don't know what I'd do.

"You shouldn't be going on dates, Mom. Dad is your husband, it doesn't change anything with him gone." His voice increases in volume, his eyes are piercing.

I never thought about this being a problem. There are so many things in life that never cross your mind, until things take a drastic turn, and you find yourself trudging through it all, trying to find some semblance of the life you had before. There are these roadblocks that keep popping up every time you think you get ahead. You’re forced to step back and evaluate the decisions you've made.

Do I need to take a few steps back and correct a mistake I've made? I finally thought I knew what I wanted. I just never factored in my children. I never thought they would dislike me and Striker together. They love him, and rightfully so. He's been amazing to the boys.

"I'm going to ask that you talk quietly. That man out there has sacrificed a lot to come out here and help our family. Plus he loves you. I won't allow you to hurt his feelings because you don't like the fact of me dating. This has nothing to do with Striker, and more to do with me moving on." I run my hands up and down my face, trying to calm the nerves that have ignited.

"What are you going to do? Just forget Dad ever existed?" His eyes narrow, making me feel a slight twinge of guilt.

"I loved your father. I could never forget him. We've all had a hard time with losing him, but what am I supposed to do? Not live. I want us to have fun again. I want to take you guys places and laugh again. Daddy would want us to have a happy life. Yes, it's moving forward but that doesn't mean we'll forget. Daddy is a part of me. He was my best friend since I was eleven years old." I'm out of breath when I finish rambling, but I need him to understand.

I loved his father, and will always love him, but we can't live in constant grief; if not for us, then for Dalton. He deserves for us to live the life he couldn't.

"Max, Uncle Striker is always nice to all of us," Kiley says, after sitting quietly. "You should be happy. You get the chance to have two amazing dads. I would love to have just one."

"Oh, Ki." Sliding from the chair, I walk around to their side of the table, ignoring the pain in my ankle. "Come here." I wrap an arm around each of them. "Max, I love you, baby, but I can't give up having a life, sweetie. It's what's best for all of us. I know it's hard to see now, but one day you will." I pull away and place my hands on Kiley's shoulders. "I hate how sad you are tonight. I hate that you won't tell me what's going on, Ki."

"Mom, she said she didn't want to talk about it," Max says trying to protect his friend.

I search her eyes, willing her to speak to me about whatever is happening. Only she doesn't. Her eyes leave mine and fall to her lap. "Okay, sweetie. It's all right. When you're ready." Leaning forward I place a kiss to her forehead.

"Mom," Max interrupts.

I lean back on my heels, giving him my attention. "I like being around Uncle Striker, but you're our mom. He's not our dad."

"Why are you saying things like this? He's not here to replace your dad." I know my face is not doing a good job at hiding the hurt I feel from his words.

"Because you’re trying to replace him!" he says in anger.

"I swear to you, I'm not. No one can replace your dad, honey." I try to stay calm, but it's been a rough couple of hours. Now, after running away, he wants to come home and treat me like I've wronged his father in some way.

"Then why does he still live here? He doesn't need to live here. I thought he was only here to help dad." Max's face is contorted as he speaks; allowing me to see that his anger is real.

"Max, where is this coming from?" I ask.

"Did you want dad to die?"

I jump to my feet and look down at him. Pain shoots up my leg, but it's nothing compared to how Max makes me feel. It's like he's slapped me in the face. "Why would you ask me that? How could you ever think that I wanted your dad to die?"

He jumps up to stand in front of me; the top of his head almost reaches my shoulders. "Because, I would catch you two at night, sitting on the couch holding hands, while dad was in that bed dying."

"We were sad, Max. He was our best friend. We had to sit there every night. We were being friends to one another. Just like you're friends with Kiley." My right hand comes up, rubbing at my chest as it tightens.

"No, Mom, not friends like us. Now he's taking you on dates. We don't go on dates," he seethes.

My chest is heavy and breathing is becoming a challenge. "You're eight years old, and may I remind you." I stop, taking a deep inhale. "You two were just outside alone, hiding in the woods."

There's a ringing in my ears, and I'm having a hard time making out Max's words as he yells at me. I try concentrating on his lips, maybe I can read them. His voice is just a hollow echo, indecipherable. I catch myself wheezing as I try to get air, but my lungs are constricted. Max's lips are still moving, and his hands reach out grabbing my upper arms. My legs feel heavy and weak all at once, but there's pain, lots of pain. I lean into his hold, trying to gain support, but it doesn't help and I fall into him, knocking him into the chair, my knees hitting the floor. My vision blurs, and darkness starts to close in on me.

There's yelling and voices. It seems like a lot of voices. My head throbs from it all. I place my hands on the ceramic tile, and lower myself until my cheek is pressed to the coolness it brings. I close my eyes, giving in to the heaviness I feel. I just need a...

*****

"Rea. Wake up, please."

There's a tapping against my cheek, not hard, not soft, but stern. My head is pounding, and I'm not sure I want to open my eyes. They already hurt while pinched tight. If it's bright in the room, I know it will only hurt worse. My body is aching, mainly my chest.

"Rea."

I finally recognize Striker's voice. Slowly I peel one eye open, peering into his worried eyes. I'd been doing so well on the medicine the doctor prescribed me, but I guess a lost child and then having him scream at you after he returns home, kind of takes a toll on the heart. "I'm sorry, Striker. I had been doing so well."

"It's fine, this was just different than what I've seen with you in the past. I brought you to your bed because Max was starting to freak out and blame himself. I was damn close to calling 911." He lays his hand on my forehead, like he's looking for a temperature.

"What are you doing?" I notice how hoarse my voice is. My throat feels dry and scratchy. I try to swallow but it doesn't help.

"I've never seen you have that much trouble breathing. I thought maybe something else was going on to cause it to be so bad," he says.

I'm lying in my bed, on top of the covers, still in my clothes from our date. I guess dating while having kids isn't so easy, especially when one of your children is upset about your choice.

Striker pulls away from me, until he's sitting up, not looking in my direction. "Look Rea, I'm not here to cause problems. Maybe it’s best if we hold off on being together, until the kids feel better about it. I'd hate myself if I came between you and the boys."

Rolling onto my back I stare at the ceiling. "Did you hear him?"

"It just doesn't feel like this is a good time. Things like this shouldn't be a part of a new relationship." He speaks with a gentle voice, trying to sound convincing.

"Striker, he's had a bad day. Something is going on with Kiley, and he's taking it out on us. Let's not jump to any decisions." I grip the comforter in my hands. He would never want to come in between me and the boys. It's just who he is, and I can respect that, but I know Max. He was lashing out at us to cover up whatever is going on at Kiley's house. It's not that he isn't affected by losing Dalton, he is, but he loves Striker and respects him. I won't let his diversion change my mind. I've felt hopeful every morning. Making the choice to follow my heart was not easy, but it was the right one for me, and for the kids. Who else would love them just as much as Dalton did?

"It's only been four months. Let's give them time." His voice cracks slightly, but he holds it together.

I can hear it in his voice, the sound of finality. He's made his decision, without even hearing me out. I understand, why, but to make a concrete decision without discussing it first hurts. "I know how long it's been. Four months or five years, I will always feel the pain of his loss like it was yesterday. I just have to learn to deal with the pain, and live my life for me, and for my kids."

I have to let him have his way. I can't question his choice. If I do, and he decides to follow through with our relationship, then every problem we have with the boys, he will question his role in it. I can't live a life like that.

There will be problems. Kids are kids, and they will test your sanity. Striker hasn't seen much of this, because of the circumstances we have been facing since he came back into my life. I don't usually respond to my kids yelling at me like that. It's the first time I suffered from a panic attack because of one of the boys. I've also never thought I lost one of them, and it's the only thing that I can think of that caused my reaction. Well that, and the fact that my mind fears the worst when it comes to Kiley. What if someone touched her? God, I can't even think about that.

"Rea, you think he's okay with me staying in the house?"

I sit up and move across the bed, until I'm leaning against his back. My arms slide around his waist, and I rest my cheek on him. "And if he isn't? You love the boys, regardless of how Max feels. How would Dylan feel?" Moving higher I place my chin on his shoulder. "How would you feel, Striker? I don't want you to leave. We are a family, whether or not anyone in this house wants to believe it. It's not a perfect situation, but I've learned that life can be much worse. Stay. We'll figure things out."

He nods his head in agreement. "I'm sorry. I know I've been back and forth with this, with us. I just, I can't be the one to put strain between you and the boys."