Fractured Affections (The Affections Series Book 1) (15 page)

Striker has been cordial to me since we got everything out in the open, but I can tell how hard it is for him to be around Dylan. He wants him to know the truth, but fear is written all over his face. I know Dylan, and while he may be confused and angry at first, the blame will never be put on Striker. It may take some time, but I know that Dylan will love Striker just as much as he loves Dalton and me. So today, I’m going to ask Striker to take the younger boys for a bit and take Dylan out, just the two of us. Hopefully things will go okay, and we can surprise Striker when Dylan is ready.

Today will be the first time I’ll pick up the boys since my surgery. I look forward to getting back into a normal routine. I have learned to do most things with just one hand, but certain tasks still remain hard, like washing my hair thoroughly, let alone styling it, that’s totally out of the question. Riley has been stopping by several times out of the week to help, which gave us the opportunity to talk things out. Now she knows everything, even that Dylan belongs to Striker. I was surprised that my history actually gave us some things in common, which only made our bond stronger.

She tends to stops by during the day, while Striker is out handling work for the business. I think Riley prefers it that way, and I prefer to spend time with her in a quiet house with no kids, so we can enjoy some R and R. My free time has been so limited since Dalton has been out of town. All of the things I never felt comfortable discussing with my husband, I can now share with Riley. It feels good to get some things off of my chest. I haven’t always enjoyed some of our topics of discussion but never knew that I was holding so much in either. All this time I thought that Riley just never let me talk, when in reality I never offered any part of my life to my best friend. I somehow put it in my mind that she would judge me. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Riley has shared more with me about herself and her past, which actually helps me to understand her behavior.

Riley couldn’t make it over today, but is going to try and stop by tonight, depending on how things go with Dylan. It will be nice to have someone here for support. If Dylan is ready to talk to Striker tonight; I don’t want anything to interfere with their time together.

I apply pressure to the brakes as I pull up to the school. I put the car in park and wait for my boys. I’m beginning to feel very nervous and notice I’m gripping the steering wheel, even though I’m not driving and my hand feels slick with sweat.

I can’t help but worry about how things will go. Dylan is such a strong kid but has never gone through anything this tough. I just hope we can help him transition into this new “family” and not put our own feelings or needs before his. I can’t freak out today like I did with Striker. I’m the adult, I need to stay with it and be there for my son. I think I will be okay, as long as I focus on him and how he feels about everything.

I smooth my good hand down my pants and try to calm myself with slow steady breaths. The three of them are headed my way. I watch as they joke and push each other around, all with a smile on their faces. It reminds me of how close our little family is and eases my mind. Dylan will be okay because we will all love him through it. I don’t know what I ever feared; he will not be alone, like I was as a child.

The passenger door swings open, and Max is wrestling with Dylan to get in the front. “I called shotgun, get in the back.”

There’s more pushing and shoving. “You aren’t allowed to sit up front yet, stop being stupid, Max,” Dylan replies.

“Max, in the back, sweetie,” I yell out and Dylan slides into his seat slamming the door.

“I hate having brothers,” Max mumbles from behind me.

“Hey, Ma!” I hear a little voice say and turn around to greet Colt.

“Hey, bub, how was your day?”

“Good.”

“What did you do in school?”

“Nothing,” Colt replies the same way every day, one word answers that give nothing away. I can’t keep up with what’s going on in his class because he tells me nothing. Some days it would at least be nice to know what he ate for lunch, but Mr. Independent does not like to share, so I don’t push.

“Max, how about you?” I ask, as I catch his eye in the rearview mirror.

“It was fine, after homework can Kiley come over?”

“We’ll see. I’m going to drop you and Colt off at the house. Dyl and I are going out for a little while.” I shoot him a quick smile and pull out of the school parking lot.

“We are? Why?” Dylan asks.

“I just thought it would be nice.”

*****

It’s been a half hour since dropping the younger boys off with Striker. I pull into a parking spot at the local park. There is a nice quiet spot down by the pond, where we can feed the ducks and talk with no one around. “Come on, Dyl, let’s walk down to the pond.”

“Okay, but what’s going on Mom? We never come here without Max and Colt. Why did you leave them home?” he asks, as he rounds the car to walk up the trail next to me.

“I just needed to talk to you about some things that are pretty important, and I thought it would be nice if we could talk alone.” Wrapping one arm around his shoulders, I pull him along.

I watch him as he takes a seat on a rock near the water’s edge. “So what are we going to talk about?”

Looking over my son, I realize I don’t know where to begin. I should have prepared better for this, but if I would have worried too much, then I may not have made it here, and he needs to know the truth.

“Well, I don’t know where to begin. I guess first, I should say that Dad and I love you more than anything, and that what I’m about to discuss with you doesn’t change that. Daddy and I will be here for anything that you need. We always want you to be able to come to us about anything.”

“What? I haven’t done anything wrong,” he says with concern, like he is about to get into trouble.

“No, no, honey. This isn’t about anything you’ve done. This is about me. I’m not perfect, and I’ve made some mistakes along the way, but I’m trying to fix that.”

I can tell he is confused so I continue. “I wish this was easy, um….well, when I was younger, and before your dad and I got married; I was in love with someone else.”

“Does Dad know?”

“Yeah, honey, Dad knows, he was there. The three of us were very close, actually. Then one day that boy left town, and I fell in love with your father.”

“Oookaay. Why are you telling me this?”

“Well, this other boy and I loved each other so much. Sometimes when you love each other, God blesses you with a baby, but I didn’t find out about the baby until he had already left, and I was not able to find him.”

Dylan’s eyebrows knit together. I can tell he is trying to figure out what I’m trying to say, so I continue before I lose my nerve. “So your Dad and I got married because I loved him too, and he loved me. He loved the baby I was having as well, so we got married and loved the baby together.”

I reach over and grab Dylan’s hand when he looks at me with sadness in his eyes. “Is Dad not my real dad?”

I shake my head no and feel tears flood my eyes. My boy looks down to the ground, hanging his head as he tries to figure out what this means. When he looks back up to me, we both have tears sliding down our cheeks and my grip tightens on his hand.

“Who is my dad, then? Did he ever find out about me?”

“He just recently found out and is dying to have a relationship with you. Please don’t blame him. He didn’t know because of me. I’m so sorry. I was being selfish because I didn’t want to split up our family. I was wrong though, because this doesn’t split us up, honey. We will just be a bigger family.” My chest feels tight as I wait patiently for him to process everything I am saying.

“Will I still live with you or my real dad?” He pulls his hand from mine and tries to wipe his tears away, but they just keep coming.

“Of course you will still live with us, Dyl. You’re still our son; Dalton has been all you have known as a father since the day you were born. He will still be your dad. You will just have another father to enjoy things with. I know you will love him.” I force a smile and reach out placing my hand on his back. I hate seeing him so sad and it’s all my fault. Sometimes it’s hard to think of the consequences of your decisions. I let my hurt and anger guide my choices in a direction that only protected my heart. Now looking at my son and the pain I have caused, I realize that every choice I made then was completely selfish. I protected the wrong person. Dylan deserved more than what I have given him.

“Who is he?” Dylan says, still staring at the ground and brushes his hand under his nose.

“Striker,” I whisper and watch as his head whips around so that he is staring at me in shock.

“What? Uncle Striker? He has been coming around for as long as I can remember. Why didn’t you tell him before?” He’s becoming angry, which I expected, but I don’t have an answer that is good enough to give him.

“I don’t know, but it was wrong. I can’t take back the mistakes I’ve made and I’m sorry honey. I hope one day you can forgive me.” I sit back placing my hands in my lap and give Dylan some space.

“What about Dad?” he whispers.

“Nothing changes with your dad. He loves you and will always be here for you. We just want to be here and help you with all of this change. I know it’s a lot for you to take in. It was a lot for Striker too, but he loves you, and is dying for you to know the truth. We will all try our best at making this work, so that everyone is happy, but mainly we want whatever you’re comfortable with. I just hope you give Striker a chance. He deserves it.”

Dylan stands and walks back to toward the car. I watch him walk away for a minute, before jogging to follow him closely. When he reaches where we parked he finally speaks again.

“I just want to go home.”

“Okay, honey, we’ll go home.”

The car ride home is quiet. I can’t stop myself from peeking out of the corner of my eye at him. He never moves, only stares out the window at the trees passing by. All I want to do is reach over and grab his hand but I fear that’s not what he needs right now. I decide to let him work things out, for a little while, on his own. I will offer my support later.

My stomach clenches with worry. What if I’m not what he needs right now. He has always been the child I was closest to. Not because I love him more or because he is my favorite, but because we just always understood one another somehow. It’s amazing that a young boy could always know what I needed.

Whenever I need a good laugh, he’s there to be just the right amount of goofy to make me smile. Since he was a small boy, I could have a bad day and he would sense that I needed something, whether it was a hug or holding my hand with his tiny one. I’ve never been able to hide when I’m upset from him. As much as I want to say I have protected him, just as much as he has tried to protect me, I haven’t. The only hope that I have now is that I haven’t ruined the bond that we share.

I slowly turn into the driveway, still unable to find the right words to say. Before the car is even in park, Dylan flings open the door and darts inside the house. I can’t even drag myself from the car. I should be inside making dinner, but I’m feeling so disappointed in myself that I don’t want to see anyone.

The sun is starting to descend, so I lean my head back, close my eyes, and soak up the warmth radiating through the driver’s door window. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out. I go on like this for a few minutes and begin to zone out. This is my calm place, the quiet takes over and my anxiety subsides. Anger and hurt are no longer present amongst my emotions and I just let myself be.

I could be here for a few minutes or I could be here for an hour. Time means nothing when I reach deep into myself like this. There is no world around me. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Slowly my focus fades and the knocking startles me. I turn in my seat to see Striker standing outside my car window, staring down at me with his hands tucked into his pockets. I wanted to surprise him about telling Dylan, but that doesn’t seem quite as exciting now that he is standing here. I reach into the backseat to grab my purse before swinging open the door, stepping out to greet Striker.

We stand there in silence before he reaches up with both his hands to swipe my cheeks, ridding them of the tears that I wasn’t aware I was crying. Striker looks at me with a poignant smile and I can’t help but return it. I feel him pull me forward and wrap his arms around my shoulders. His arms are strong and comforting. Leaning forward, I bury my face in his chest and try to breathe in this life with no lies. I feel lighter and free.

A combination of fresh soap and something woodsy fills my nose. It’s a smell that takes me back to a time, before all of this hurt and pain. It takes me back to my first love. I feel at home here in his arms.

Striker leans his head down. I can feel his lips move against my ear, causing an unwanted craving low in my belly. “Thank you, Rea.”

Hot air blows across my neck and I feel my body stiffen. My emotions are all over the place today. Slowly I push against his firm chest until our eyes meet, my blue to his honey brown. His arms loosen their hold, and then I feel the warmth of his hands along each side of my neck as he stares deeply into my soul. How does he do that; make the world fall away and there is only he and I in this moment? My heart begins to pound so hard in my chest that I can hear it; maybe he can too. His thumb drops to rest on my pulse, the slight trail of his thumb along my skin causes a shiver to rack through me, and my eyes drift shut on their own.

His hands tilt my head back slowly and then he presses his forehead to mine, causing his lips to be a hair’s breadth away from mine. “Why do I love you like this, Alma? I should still be angry with you for keeping Dylan from me. Instead, all I can think about is taking you into that house, holing up in your room, and burying myself deep inside of you.”

“Striker…” He cuts me off by placing his fingers over me lips, and my mouth goes dry as he continues.

“But that can’t happen, can it? I can’t have you anymore. It fucking kills me that you married him. This was supposed to be us, but we both made mistakes that lead us here. I won’t be angry, and I don’t want you to feel guilty. Okay? We need to move forward.”