Mended Affections (The Affections Series Book 2) (4 page)

I nod my head in agreement. I can't add one more thing to feel guilty about. Striker is the least of my worries. I need to fix things with my boys.

"Are we good?" Striker asks.

"Yeah." Leaning into him, I wrap my arms around his waist, and feel his wrap around my shoulders. "I need you to push me when I'm folding in on myself and hiding away. Don't let me lock myself up in my room anymore."

Pulling me in tighter, Striker rests his chin on top of my head. "Dalton and I talked a lot after he told us about his diagnosis. You have one more week. I was told to give you a month of grieving however you need to, and then it was time to put my foot in your ass."

I can hear he is smiling as he speaks, recalling a fond memory with Dalton.

I push away, so I can see his face, "One month, huh? Well, what else did Dalton say?"

"That you will be a pain in my ass at some point, many points, actually, but I am to love you anyway," Striker says, and begins to laugh.

"Wow, nice of you guys to have faith in me," I say.

"I don't think you needed to hear it from Dalton or myself, that you can be a pain in the ass sometimes. You already know it." He laughs.

I push away, gaining some space, and pretend to be offended. "Screw you. Don't help me then. I'll figure this new life out on my own.""

Turning I head toward the office door. Once I hit the hall, Striker yells, "You will never do anything on your own, I won't let you!"

I continue walking and head upstairs to take a shower. It's time to figure out how to live. I will never be living fully with Dalton gone, but I need to live enough to provide a happy life for my boys.

Striker

She fucking kissed me. Having her lips pressed to mine caused my sullen heart to leap. When I slid my tongue into that soft, warm mouth of hers, I had to fight back every urge to flip her over and pin her beneath me on that couch. I shouldn't have taken things that far, knowing how vulnerable she is, but she picked the worst time possible to press her lips to mine.

Over the years, I've learned to deal with my pain by burying myself deep inside a woman. It's only second nature for me to want to find release in the best form possible, but going out on the town to find a stranger isn't an option for me anymore. I need to prove myself to her. She needs to know I'll always be here if she needs me.

When I heard her walk into that room, and she didn't say a word, I couldn't help but continue my workout, to try and settle my need to fuck her right there on the floor. This isn't easy on me either. Not only did I lose my best friend, but I gained the responsibility of a family. I'm doing my best to fill Dalton's shoes, but to them I will never be able to. I get it, but it's still difficult for me.

I still love and need Rea in my life, always have. While it felt amazing to feel the smoothness of her tongue on mine, it also kills me, knowing that it was for all the wrong reasons. She is lonely and grieving the loss Dalton. I have all the confidence that our time will come, but she won't be ready to move on for awhile. I need to be patient. Pushing her won't lead us anywhere good.

I head to my bathroom and grab a quick shower, needing to wash away the sweat from my work out. I keep the water cold, trying to settle my need to follow Reagan upstairs and finish what she started.

I'm feeling better by the time I step out onto the cold tile floor. I grab my towel and wrap it around my waist. The hall is empty as I walk to my room. It's strange that even though five people live in this house, it's eerily quiet since Dalton died. I miss the sound of laughing and playing, echoing through the house. I'm sure things will get back to normal over time, but I hate watching the boys hurt.

I'm pulling my pants on as the thoughts of where I'm headed today hit me in the chest. I can't help but feel like someone is squeezing the air from my lungs, when I think about meeting my aunt. I have no idea why she wants to see me, but it must be important if she came out here for it, instead of calling.

As I walk through the house to leave, I pass Rea sitting on the couch. "I'll be back in about an hour. Do you want to go together to get the boys from school?"

"Okay, yeah. Where are you headed?" she asks, looking up at me from where she is seated.

I don't want to lie to her, but my aunt does nothing but cause Rea stress. "Just out to meet an old friend."

Her eyes widen in shock, and it takes me a moment to realize how that sounded. "Shit, nothing like that, Rea."

She jumps to her feet. "It’s fine, Striker. If you want to date, please don't worry about us. It would be wrong of me to ask you not to live your life."

"Reagan, I haven't dated in a really long time. That's the last thing on my mind. I know you don't believe me, but I'm where I want to be, here with you and the boys," I say, as I walk over to stand in front of her.

"I don't want you to feel stuck." Her eyes shift to the floor.

Placing my fingers under her chin, always needing her eyes on mine, I tip her head back. "Have I been acting like I feel trapped?"

She shakes her head slowly. "I don't know."

"I'm happy to be here, when will you understand? I know Dylan is the only one of the boys who is biologically mine, but I feel close to all three of them. With Dalton being gone, I enjoy filling the role of father for them. I know it's hard for you to accept, but I'm not going anywhere." I lower my hand, letting her head drop, so that she's staring to the floor again.

After a moment of standing in silence, Rea minutely shakes her head and speaks in a whisper, "Okay, thank you for being here, for them and for me."

"I didn't want to stress you out, so I just said old friend, but my aunt is in town and wants to speak to me. I have no idea what for. I was going to meet with her first, so I knew more before talking with you about it," I say.

Shock registers on her face. We thought our lives would go back to the way things were before, secluded and peaceful. I guess we were wrong. I turn to walk out, and Reagan's voice stops me.

"She's here, in town?" Her voice is quiet.

I turn back in her direction, catching the somber expression. "I know. It's strange, the woman never came around when her son was alive. I'll go find out what she wants."

Rea doesn't say another word, just stares straight ahead. I can't imagine what my aunt wants, but I know if it has anything to do with coming around, I'll have a major problem with it. People can't treat people badly for years and then expect to be let back in, no questions asked.

*****

I arrive at the restaurant my aunt chose, five minutes past the time we agreed on. It's quiet and slow in here. I head toward the hostess station, but then spot my aunt alone at a table. The straight back, pole up the ass aunt I know, looks broken and morose. She's hunched over sitting in a booth, staring at the table. Her head is hanging low, like the weight of the world is on her shoulders.

I move in her direction, with a lump forming in my throat. I don't want any more bad news, I’m not sure I can handle it yet. I still can't grasp the fact that Dalton is gone, and I know the real grief has not set in yet.

My aunt doesn't even hear me approach the table. Sliding into the booth, I clear my throat to get her attention. "Aunt Becky, you okay?"

Slowly she lifts her head, when her eyes meet mine, they are red and swollen but her cheeks are dry. "Hi, honey. Thanks for meeting me." Her tone is low and flat, showing no emotion.

"It's no problem. I'm just really worried now, seeing you like this." I cross my arms on the table and lean forward a little, completely focused on my aunt. The slight background noise in the restaurant fades away, as my brain rapidly formulates her response. Maybe something happened to my uncle, or she knows something about Rea's mom. Is she sick?

I can't take any bad news home to Rea. She is finally trying. For her to leave her room, and talk to me about helping her move forward, is such a big step.

"I've had a lot going on lately, and I'm having a hard time," she says, then takes a sip from her glass. "I've screwed up so much in my life, and now I don't even have a chance to fix the wrong I have done. Dalton was the only thing in my life that was good, and I ruined our relationship too. It was never their fault. I just took it out on them."

"Aunt Becky, I don't know what to say. It's a little late now to make amends, I'm sorry." I can’t help but be blunt, but she fucked up and now wants to cry to me about it.

"I know. I let my problems with others interfere with my ability to accept Reagan into our family. I don't know my grandchildren, my own flesh and blood. Who did I become? How could I be so blind, for so long, to my own behaviors?" Her head falls forward until her face meets her hands, and she begins to sob.

Fuck, I can't sit here and watch her like this. I hate a lot of the choices she has made over the years, but she is still my aunt. She took me in when I didn't have anywhere else to go. I slide out of my side of the booth and into the seat next to her. Slowly pushing on her shoulder until she's facing me, I hold back all of my anger toward this woman and wrap my arms around her.

I wait silently, until she finally pulls herself together, and speaks. "I'm sorry. Oh, goodness, look what I did." She reaches for a napkin and dabs at my shirt, where her tears left a wet mark.

"Stop, Aunt Becky. It's fine," I say, as she continues to clean my shirt. Her actions display how frazzled she is. I can't help but feel annoyed by her fussing over a tiny wet spot on my shirt. Grabbing her wrist, I force her hand to stop. "Stop it. Why did you call me here?"

"I know you're gonna say no, but I am begging you to talk to Reagan for me. I would really like to have a relationship with my grandchildren," she says timidly.

"Why would I do that? You haven't made life easy for Rea, and you've never been a part of the boys’ lives. You think now is the time to make an attempt to see them? I think you've missed your opportunity, don't you?" How dare she come here and ask me to put more stress on Rea. She'll never go for it. I don't even want to bring it up.

"I know how wrong I have been. I've let anger guide me through my life, making decisions that I hate myself for. It's taken Dalton's passing to open my eyes to what's important, and that I've been wrong for so many years." Aunt Becky's words come out in a rush, and the disbelief she has toward her own actions is apparent.

"It's not a good idea. I won't put more on Rea right now. She's not doing well as it is." I slide back out of the booth, taking a seat across the table from her again.

"I'm sorry to ask this of you, but will you please think about it?" Her hand reaches across the table toward mine, but she never makes contact before deciding against touching me and puts her hands down in her lap.

"What anger, Aunt Becky? Why have you been so mad at her for all of these years? She's never done anything to you or Dalton?" I don't understand. How could she be angry for so long over nothing? I always thought it was about money, that Reagan's family was not very well off and her mother was a drunk, but why not reach out to a child that needs help?

"It was never about Rea," she says, and then goes into details about where her anger stems from. Every word she speaks feels unreal, untrue. How could I miss something like this for all these years, and how am I going to break it Rea?

Reagan

I'm standing outside of Dylan's school, waiting for the bell to ring. Things seem to have already settled for the kids because as I look around, I seem more nervous than the kids who are new here. I wish adjusting to life was this easy for me.

I’m a little worried and hope that Dylan's reaction to me is a good one, and he's not angry with me for failing him over the last several weeks. Knowing Dylan, even if he is mad, he'll hide his feelings to make me feel better about our situation, but I don't want that.

I don't want him holding in his feelings like he usually does. We all need to let how we are feeling out. That's at least the one thing that I've taken away from therapy. I suck at it myself, so I know it will be tough, but I'm hoping it will be easier to sway my kids to tell me the truth.

Striker is proving to be harder to break. Once he arrived home from his lunch date with his aunt, he headed straight to his room, only leaving his solitude to drive me here. He was silent and tense, which made me extremely afraid to ask him what she wanted. I just want to focus on spending time with the boys today. That woman and her problems can wait. Plus, I'm finally up and out of the house, something I'm proud of; she is not going to ruin that for me.

Children are rushing by, excited for the school day to have ended. The sound of chatter fills my ears, and my eyes scan the crowd looking for my son. As he pushes his way through the door, he doesn't even look my way. He looks out into the parking lot at our car. Turning to follow after him, I notice Striker pointing in my direction from the driver's seat, letting Dylan know to turn around. Dylan stops, slowly turns and looks through the kids. A tiny sad smile crosses his face when he sees me. There goes his “everything is all right, Mom” attitude.

Walking up to him, I wrap my arm around his shoulders. "How was your day, sweetie? Sorry I'm just getting here to see your new school."

"It's fine, Mom. Glad to see you here today, though," he says, as we walk toward the car.

I stop, and turn him to face me. "It's not okay, and I'm gonna try to do better. I don't want you to act like things are okay anymore when they're not. I need you to be honest with me about how you feel. Don't put my feelings before your own. That's not fair to you, and it's not your responsibility to take care of me. I'm the mom, and I need to start acting like it."

Shaking his head, his eyes fall from mine, and I can sense the sadness he feels. I know he's on the verge of tears, and we're still surrounded by his classmates. I wrap my arm around his shoulders again, quickly walking us to the car. I open the back door for him and he slides in. Once we are all situated, Striker pulls off.

"Dylan, I'm sorry," I say.

He still doesn't speak, only turns his head and stares out the window.

I turn further in my seat, "Dyl, I don't want to be an issue in your life, honey. If you ever feel like you need me, and I'm not there for you, please come tell me. I don't want you to ever feel like I did as a child. I want you to know, without a doubt, that I'm here for you, always."

Dylan's eyes are brimmed with tears when he finally looks my way. I can't help but want to wrap my arms around him. Not only is it difficult to watch your children cry, but knowing that they are facing one of the toughest things in life makes it that much worse. Even though the car is in motion, I find myself climbing between the front seats and into the back. I stumble a little, but once sitting, I'm pulling Dylan in for a tight hug. Immediately his shoulders begin to shake as his tears break free, causing my own waterworks to begin.

"Please don't hide in your room anymore, Mom. I miss Dad so much, but with you not around, it's worse. I want to come to you, but I'm afraid to bother you," he says.

Pulling away, I make sure he is looking straight into my eyes. "Dyl, don't you ever be afraid to come to me. Okay? Never, ever, ever think that you are a bother to me."

"Okay," he whispers, then leans back into me and tries to calm himself.

It's not long before we pull up to the elementary school that Max and Colt attend. I release my hold on Dylan and exit the car, so I can return to the front seat. After my moment with Dylan, I realize I'm in need of my children, just as much as they are in need of me. They make me feel stronger. I don't want them to witness me curled up in bed, mourning their father for months to come.

It's hard facing the world, watching everyone else go about his or her business like nothing happened. In my heart, the world should have stopped, coming to a complete halt. Since mine was shifted off its axis that day, shouldn't everyone feel something?

Facing other people is difficult, but facing my boys; I feel the strength they give me. I can put my feelings aside and focus on theirs. As time passes and they are doing better, then I’ll have time to concentrate on me.

I'm leaning against the passenger door, completely lost in my head. I don't realize the boys are approaching, until Colt runs up and wraps his arms around my legs.

"Mom!" Colt says with excitement, like I have been out of town and finally returned.

"Hi, baby. How was your day?" I ask.

"Good," he answers, while moving toward the car and hopping into the back seat.

He is still a child of very few words, I see. Max is just standing there looking at me with a strange look. "What's wrong, Max? Everything all right?"

"Sure," he says, and slides in behind Colt.

It's quiet in the car and I don't really know what to say. I need to talk to all three of them, but it will be best if I think over what to say first. Maybe I can talk something over with Striker while we prepare dinner. It's sad to think that I need to ask how my own children are doing, and what the best way to approach them is. Putting my pride aside, I need to do what's best for them. I trust Striker explicitly to help without making me feel guilty. He has been an amazing best friend over the last nine months, never wavering in his support for our family.

I look over to him. His right hand is holding the steering wheel, while his left elbow is resting on the driver's door window; his fingers running across his lips, like he's deep in thought. My forehead creases as I wonder what's on his mind. Almost as if he can sense my stare, he turns and his eyes meet mine. His lips turn up in a slight smile, which reaches his eyes, and I relax just a fraction. He switches his grip on the wheel and reaches over to place his hand over mine.

Pride. That's what he's feeling. I can't say I agree with my actions, but it's good to know I've made a move in the right direction.

"Riley called, said she'd be over tonight," Striker says, as his eyes bounce back and forth between the road and me.

"Why didn't she call me?" I ask.

"Ummm, probably because you never answer." There is no anger in his voice, just honesty.

He's right. I've been avoiding everyone. "Well, call her back and tell her tonight is a bad idea."

He pulls his hand from mine, returning it to where it was. "Why is it a bad idea?"

"I'd like to see Kiley, if that's okay?" Max chimes in.

I turn in my seat a little to address the boys. "I wanted to talk to the three of you tonight at dinner."

Max responds before the last word has finished passing my lips. "You've had three weeks to talk to us. I want to see Kiley tonight."

I turn back in my seat and look out my window. I can't blame them for being mad at me. I know how I felt about my mother's actions and her neglect of me.

"Max, come on man, don't be rude to your mother," Striker says.

"It's fine, Striker. We can do whatever you want tonight, Max. We'll talk another time." I know how important my time was with Dalton and Striker during the times that I felt neglected and alone.

I feel the warmth of Striker's hand wrapping around mine again. This time I turn mine over, thread my fingers through his, and hold on tight. Having a friend by my side, who understands my loss, gives me a fraction of hope. If he can wake up every day and continue on with his life, maybe I can too. I guess I'll start that adventure tonight with seeing Riley.

After arriving home, I help the boys with their homework and then we all have dinner. I never found a moment to speak with Striker about what to say to the boys, but as I settle into the couch I let my eyes drift closed. Lying around in bed for most of my days, over the last several weeks, has taken its toll on my energy. I just need to shut my eyes for a few minutes before Riley shows up. It's not long before the boys voices drift away and I doze off.

*****

"Wakie, wakie, Rea," Riley says.

I groan and slowly open my eyes to find her staring down at me from the arm of the couch. There is a soft, gentle smile on her lips. Her hand is slowly stroking my hair. I try to speak, but my voice comes out hoarse. "Wow, what time is it?"

"It's just about seven o'clock. Listen, I need you to get up and come with me. We have somewhere to be." Riley stands and pulls on my hand, until I'm off the couch, and she is dragging me toward my room.

I'm still foggy headed from sleep and allow her to get me halfway up the stairs before pulling my hand away. "I'm not going anywhere tonight. What are you talking about?"

She turns to face me and steps back down one step so we are closer. "I have somewhere important to be. I need you to come with me. I can't force you to come, but it would be great if you would entertain my idea."

"Your idea? Maybe I need coffee. What is going on?" I reach up rubbing my eyes. "We haven't talked in a few weeks, I thought you were coming here to yell at me about it."

"Nope." Riley spins back around and heads up the steps. "I'm upset with you, don't get me wrong, but the only thing I'm asking of you is to come with me."

I follow behind her, until we reach my room, and we both head inside. I shut the door behind me, then turn and face my best friend. She is so well put together, in her pressed, white button up shirt tucked neatly into her tight knee-length skirt. Her heels are high and beautiful. She walks in them like they are a part of her, never missing a step. I'm a complete wreck standing next to her. Her hands are firmly placed on her hips, and she is impatiently tapping her toe on floor.

"Well, are you going to come with me or not?" she asks.

I look down at myself. My t-shirt is loose and hanging from me, covering the top of my leggings to just past my butt. I know my hair is a mess and I have the taste of sleep in my mouth. "How long do I have?"

"Twenty minutes." Riley looks at her watch, double checking the time. "Eighteen, actually"

"I can't be ready in eighteen minutes," I respond, my voice slightly rising.

"I guess you better hurry. Just take a quick shower and let your hair air dry. Where we're going, you don't need to be dressed up." Riley pushes me toward my bathroom.

Before I know it, I'm inside and the bathroom door is shutting behind me. Where in the hell does she want me to go? I was supposed to spend the evening here, available to the boys if they need me. Instead I'm being forced to leave with her and go to an unknown destination.

Our first time getting together and she's being pushy. She should know I need time to adjust to this new life, one where my heart is only a fraction of what it used to be. When your heart is broken like that, you can't help but lose all focus on life. Your ability to live a normal life, with a normal routine, is gone. It's going to take me time to learn to live again.

Stripping from my clothes, I quickly hop in the shower, washing every part of my body. Once I'm out, I towel dry my hair, then wrap the towel around my body before I exit the bathroom. When I open the door, Striker is sitting on my bed.

He jumps up. "Oh shit, sorry, Rea, I thought you would get dressed in there, since Riley was up here."

I dismiss his statement with the wave of my hand. "It's not like I came out naked. Don't worry about it."

I walk to my dresser and then he continues to speak. "Are you okay going tonight, with Riley?"

"Well, considering I have no idea where, and the fact that she is pretty much rushing me out the door, I haven't had time to think about it," I say, while reaching into my pants drawer, looking for some comfy sweats.

"Oh, well, that's good then," he says.

Turning to look at him, I see his forehead creased with concern. "What is it, Striker? What's good then?"

I walk over until I'm standing in front of him. He lifts his head to look at me. "I know you just decided to try harder to live your life a little, but I wasn't sure how you felt about leaving the house."

"How about I let you know how I feel about it when I get back? Riley is crazy at times, and I'm a little afraid as to where she's taking me, but I also know she would not do anything to hurt me. I just want to trust her to not do something stupid. If she does, can I call you to pick me up?"

"Of course, Rea, that's a given. I'll be here if you need me." Striker turns and exits my room.

I quickly dress in comfortable clothes, take a deep breath and head downstairs to Riley. As I turn the corner into the kitchen, I catch a glimpse of Striker and Riley whispering to each other. It's only a moment before Riley notices my presence.