Mended Affections (The Affections Series Book 2) (16 page)

It's my turn to nod, without a word. I don't want to speak. I feel like I keep fighting these battles that I don't stand a chance at winning. I get it life, I'm not allowed to find peace. I have to be built up so you can tear me down. Well, you're doing a fine job.  "I get it, Striker. It's not time."

He stands from the bed, places a kiss on my forehead, and walks out of my room. I'm lost and confused. My body still aches, and my ankle is throbbing. Lying back on my bed, I think of Dalton, and the great care he took of me. Now I lay here alone and in pain, both physically and emotionally. Striker just walked away, without showing any concern for my well-being. If this was the worst panic attack he's seen, why would he just walk out of here like he did?

In the beginning, I never thought I could love Dalton as much as I loved Striker, but then I did. Now today, I feel the void he has left in my life, stronger than ever before. I need him. I want his strong arms to hold me. I want his nose to skim my neck as he comforts me, while quietly telling me funny stories to make me smile. As the throbbing in my ankle continues, I really wish he was here to bring me some ice. I wouldn't even have to ask. It would just be here. Dalton was always thoughtful that way. I miss him. God, do I miss him. Tears brim my eyes, causing my vision to blur.

I need him, to feel close to him. I slide out of my bed, sliding my feet to the floor. I'm hobbling along, searching for my boots. They must have been left downstairs. I conquer one measly step at a time. When I'm three steps from the bottom, Striker walks up holding a bag of frozen peas.

"Where are you going? I was bringing you ice for your ankle," he says.

"I need to run somewhere." I try to move past him, but he stops me.

Looking down at my ankle, "I don't think you're running anywhere."

I know it seems ridiculous, but I have to go. "I have to. It can't wait. Please move."

Striker grabs hold of my upper arms, turning me until I face him. "What is it, Rea?"

I'm overwhelmed from today, and my exhaustion isn't helping me stay rational. My tears return, only this time I can't hold them back. "I just need to go to him. I know I'm being stupid, and I can't drive, but please I need to go."

Striker searches my eyes for a minute, but then he seems to understand. "My aunt fell asleep with Colt on the couch. Let me just tell her I'm taking you out for something."

He hands me the peas. My heart sinks a little, knowing I just accused him of being insensitive to my needs. How often have I told him to not cater to me, that I need to be able to care for myself, and when he doesn't do things just like Dalton did, I judge him for it. I can't compare them. They're two different men; men that I love, each in a different way, but both just as loving as the other.

Life has been so up and down, and I just need my best friend right now. I hate that he's not here to calm the onslaught of emotions taking over my heart and mind. He was always good at helping me calm down and see things in a new light.  I'm confused by how he brought Striker back into my life, only to have Striker pull away, time and time again. I’m just as guilty, but I'm not sure we will ever be on the same page at this rate. Life was easier when I was only concentrating on myself.

"Ready? I told Dylan to keep an eye on Max, they're playing video games in his room and Riley stopped by to pick up Kiley." Striker walks past me gathering his keys and wallet.

Grabbing my winter coat from its hook, I follow behind him, into the cold night air.  I start to shiver as the cool air kisses my skin.  He opens his truck door and I climb in, overly aware of the distance between us. I almost feel numb to it. How many times can we do this? If it's for the kids, then this has to be final. The uncertainty of what we'll be to one another is worse for the boys than being together. I have to offer them stability, even if it means I'm a single mother, caring for them on my own.

My mind wanders the whole ride, and before I know it the familiar trees that I keep count of, letting me know we have arrived at Dalton's grave, start to pass my window. The truck rolls to a stop, and everything is still. I rotate to unbuckle my seat belt, quickly glancing at Striker. He's staring straight ahead, out the windshield. Both hands are still gripping the steering wheel. I wish I knew what he was thinking, but I've lost the ability to read his thoughts. I want to speak, ask if he's okay, but I'm not sure I want the answer.

My door creaks in the cold as I open it. Once my feet hit the familiar pavement, I force them to move, one in front of the other. I take my time. I would like to say that I've been here a lot since he passed away, but it was always too hard. How many of us like to think of our loved ones being buried in a box in the ground, especially those who had their whole life ahead of them. Then I see it. Dalton Nathaniel Knowles, my best friend, my husband, and the man who cared for me since I was eleven years old.

I sink to the ground in front of his headstone. It's sad, but this is the first time I've seen it. My chest tightens with guilt. How have I not been here since the day they lowered him into his final resting place? My Dalton, I'm so sorry. I trace my finger over the raised emblem bearing his name. Tears are freely streaming down my face, and I do nothing to hold them at bay. My throat feels constricted from the lump forming there. I try to swallow but it's almost painful.

"God, Dalton," I whisper. "I'm so sorry I haven't been here. I just couldn't bring myself to admit that this is all I have of you."

I sit on the cold, hard ground, crossing my legs in front of me. The last time I was here, I felt as though I was being put in the ground too. Now I feel so disconnected from him, it's unreal. I miss his voice more than anything.

"Why did you have to leave me, Dalton? I need you. I need your advice. You’re the only one who was ever able to tell me what I needed to hear." I bring a hand up to wipe my cheeks, drying them for just a moment before more tears make their way down my cheeks. "You did this, you know? You brought him back into my life. Maybe you should have left everything alone. Maybe things would have been easier to figure out, if I didn't have the extra stress on hurting Striker or the kids, but you took it upon yourself. You made decisions for me that were mine to make."

I sit up straighter, staring harder at his headstone. My nostrils flare as I try to breathe and calm my nerves, but I can't control the anger. I'm angry that he left me. I'm angry that he made every decision in my life for me. I hate myself for being so weak, but I've felt like Dalton took advantage of that. He used my weakness against me. "I never questioned you, did I? I just went along with all of your plans for me. I still do it, even with you gone. This is my life Dalton. I need to live it for me now. I was so afraid to go against anything you wanted, in fear that you would leave me. What good did it do, huh?"

I begin to cry harder as I think of everything I could have had and everything I've ever lost. "You left anyway. Now not only do I feel that pain, but our boys do, Dalton. Especially Max, he misses you badly, and I hate to watch his anger." I bring my hands up to cover my face, unable to comprehend all of these feelings. I rock back and forth, trying to calm myself, but it doesn't help. I want to scream and cry. I want to hold Dalton and slap him. I want Striker to come to me and hold me, and I want him to drive away.

I'm torn, confused, and unable to swim to the top of the pool of emotions that is swallowing me whole. I try to hold it in but, it all bursts free, my sobbing has turned into wailing, an uncontrollable release of emotion.

"Reagan." The familiar voice of the softest spoken, gentle woman meets my ears.

Turning, I face her. My voice cracks as I speak her name, "Mrs. Veil."

"Oh, Reagan, honey." She walks up to me and places a hand on my shoulder.

I stand, looking down to the woman who has been my biggest supporter. "How? Why are you here?"

She smiles. "There's a young man I've taken a liking to, he called me before you left the house, asked if I could meet you here. Said you might need a friend, someone who understands what you're going through."

I glance over to his truck, and there he is, leaning against its side, arms crossed over his chest, and feet crossed at his ankles. I don't give him enough credit anymore. He does know me, always has.

Mrs. Veil's hands rise in front of her, and she wiggles her fingers, inviting me in for a hug. "Come here, dear."

I don't hesitate. She has been my solace, and the mother that I've never had. She is the best part of what my group therapy has brought me. With her short stature, I have to lean down, but it’s still comforting. I am so grateful he called her here.

"What's the matter, dear? You've been doing so well. Why the set back?" She asks.

I let out a sarcastic laugh. "One step forward, ten steps back. Isn't that the way? Life starts to look hopeful, and just as you start to believe it, life steps in again to snatch away any ounce of hope you had at happiness."

"Life is not snatching anything away, sweetie. Sometimes, life steps in, causing you to find your strength, and once you do, you fight." She strokes my hair as she speaks.

Her words resonate with me. Why do we do this? Why do we easily give up, when one obstacle moves in our way. We quit even though our hearts are drawn to each other. "I can't force him to stay. I understand why he feels like he does."

She pulls away, looking up at me, her hand rises to rest against my cheek. She does this when she's full of sincerity. "Reagan, how do you feel? Don't let men boss you around. We, women are in charge, honey. It's about time you learned to work your magic. All the power is yours; he is just a man after all. A man that loves you with everything he is. You two may not have been together for all of these years, but has he ever stopped loving you?"

I shake my head no. "I feel lost too, though. One minute I feel like I'm ready, and the next I know that my family still has so much healing to do."

"Well, my advice would be to follow what this," she points to my heart, "feels, and let go of what you think is right. Your brain and heart will always be in competition with one another. Do yourself a favor, let your heart win. It will be the best decision you ever make in your life." She reaches into her coat pocket, pulling out an envelope. "Here, read this. It may help."

She hands me the envelope, and on the front, my names is written in Dalton's handwriting.  I'm confused. "Why do you have this?"

"Striker has been holding onto that. He said, Dalton told him to give it to you when he felt the moment was right. I guess he felt like this was it," Mrs. Veil says, before turning and walking away. She makes it a few steps before turning back to me. "Are you coming, dear, or do you need to yell at the ground some more? I have to be honest; you won't get any answers here. Trust me, I know. I've been here before, with the first of my husbands to die. I was around your age when it happened, Rea. If I wouldn't have moved on, then I would have missed out on a life with a wonderful man. He's the one I needed grief counseling for my dear. He was the absolute love of my life."

With those words, she turns and walks away. I had no idea she was married before. It wasn't something she mentioned in group, but I did hear many stories about the great love she shared with her second husband. She lived a life with a man that most people dream of.

I stare at the letter in my hand, and then look back up to Striker. There's one question that has been playing in my mind lately. If Striker had stayed years ago, would I have married Dalton? I know with complete certainty that my heart would have never loved another man like I did Striker, if he would have stayed in my life.

My marriage to Dalton didn't even start out like a marriage should. I've never had a real honeymoon, or took vows that resonated so deep inside me that emotions swirled with each word of devoted commitment to one another. I spoke words at my wedding, words that held no emotion, other than being thankful to my best friend for rescuing me from a life of loneliness and raising a child alone.

It's too dark to read the letter here. Folding it in half, I slide it into my back pocket.  I stand there for a moment, staring at the man who has held my heart, since I was a young teenager. I've made many mistakes in the past when it came to Striker, but Mrs. Veil is right. I need to follow the yearning I feel in my heart. Who cares what the world may think is right or wrong for our family? I won't allow him to push me away, based on Max's feelings. Max loves Striker, and he will learn to love us as a family.

My feet begin to move, carrying me toward the one true love of my life. I'm uncertain of what his response will be, and I don't want to think of it right now. As I approach him, he moves from his place against the truck and takes a couple steps in my direction.

"You okay?" he asks, timidly.

I smile up at him, nodding my head yes. "Thank you, for calling Mrs. Veil."

"She knows more about what you're going through than I do. I know I lost my best friend, but it's not the same." He walks to my door and opens it for me. "Ready to go home?"

I climb into the truck, buckling myself into place. He shuts my door when I'm settled. He must have kept the truck running while he waited for me. The warmth feels nice. I didn't realize how cold it was outside until now. My hands are frozen to the bone. I lean forward, holding them in front of the vents, allowing the heated air to warm my skin.