Free Flesh: A Romance Novel

by Daya Daniels

  He’s just like our father...

  Raine was staunchly against telling Brandon the truth at first, fearing it would traumatize him further, more than me not being around for him all those years had. I couldn’t agree with her more, but I knew what damage lies could do.

  Eventually, we both agreed telling Brandon the truth was the best thing to do. He digested the information well and seemed only concerned about how much time we’d get to spend together going forward. I told him nothing would change. And it hadn’t.

  Greg and Ivy had split up for a while, but they never got divorced. Eventually, Greg finally owned up to being Brandon’s father. Greg played the fatherly role, which was difficult for me to give up, for about six months and then after that nothing.

  He provided Raine with child support for Brandon and still does so now, but outside of that, he makes no effort to acknowledge Brandon is his son.

  Much like our father had done to me.

  Brandon will always be my son, even though technically, I am his uncle. He still calls me Dad. And he calls his dad, Greg. I don’t think that will change and I’m not sure I want it to. Brandon is the one person who brought me back to Mount Pleasant. And he’s still one of the most important people in my life.

  Brandon is thirteen years old now. He lives here in this house with us much of the time in the same bedroom we painted blue together six years ago when we moved here.

  I fold the newspaper up and toss it to the side like the garbage it is. When the tea kettle boils, I twist the gas knob, shutting it off. I lift my head when I hear footsteps hitting the stairs. A sleepy little boy strolls toward me still in his pajamas.

  He rubs his eyes and groans. “Morning, Dad,” he mumbles, taking his seat at the kitchen table.

  “Morning, Hunter.” I ruffle his sandy-brown hair.

  He lowers his hands, allowing me to see his very miserable face this morning. I can only laugh at his appearance, seeing he isn’t much of a morning person.

  Hunter and Madison are gifts.

  When I discovered Brandon wasn’t mine, I was heartbroken. I still didn’t think much about having more children but here they are.

  Hunter has eyes like his sister, Madison.

  Ocean blue. A vivid blue that reminds you of the waters which surround this place. And they both have eyes like...

  “Austen,” a sweet voice calls out, breaking me out of my daydream.

  I spin around to find Callie walking toward me. She presses a kiss to my lips and smiles. I love that she smiles these days. There was a time when I thought I’d never see her smile again...

  Pulling her close to me, I press my nose into her dark hair and breathe her in. She always smells the same. She always feels the same. She’s my home. I’d already asked Callie once to marry me. When I asked her the second time—the real time—she said yes.

  It didn’t take as much convincing as I thought it would. I knew she loved me.

  We had a small ceremony right on the private beach below this house with a few friends and family. It was all very low-key.

  “What do you want for breakfast?” she asks, swatting me on the butt.

  “I-uh, planned to make waffles,” I tell her.

  She gives me a sly smile. “I make them better, don’t you think?” She winks.

  “Yes.” I nod a few times, because she’s right.

  Callie floats around the kitchen, looking sexy as ever in her pajamas, with her hair piled high on top of her head and her face bare of makeup.

  After we were married, I worked hard, right away, immediately, to get her pregnant. Callie was still delicate. Those times were difficult to deal with because I hated to see her hurting. She pushed hard to build a life with me and to move forward.

  Callie always said she couldn’t have more kids because she felt she was too old, but I’d fucked all those ridiculous thoughts right-out-of-her. And then BOOM, she was pregnant, with twins! When we were told Madison and Hunter were on the way, she was elated. It pumped a bit of life back into Callie.

  The months that followed after were incredible. Her belly became larger as we watched the babies grow. We filled this house with baby things. It was peace in the middle of the storm when we welcomed Hunter and Madison into the world.

  I take a seat at the kitchen table. Callie rearranges the colorful letters on the side of the fridge. She spells out the words “You’re hot.”

  A chuckle leaves me. “Thanks.”

  “You got it,” she singsongs.

  Across the room, I eyeball a picture of her and Travis, along with Noah and Zac and Ethan that’s on a shelf. It was taken years before Travis’ accident. Callie looks happy in the photograph and the boys are smiling and huddled together on the beach.

  I exhale then smile when I spot a picture of Callie and me huddled together with Brandon, Madison, and Hunter on the same shelf. Then in another photograph next to it, Ethan, Noah, and Zac are in the picture too—all eight of us.

  At forty-six years old, Callie is incredible, especially since she still looks like she’s in her thirties. She’s still a MILF. That’ll never change.

  I allow my eyes to linger on a picture of Travis where he stands proud with SEAL Team Six in an unnamed country—maybe Afghanistan or Iraq. I can’t really tell where exactly it is. It just looks dusty.

  The men hold their guns and are in full tactical gear, helmets and all. Travis’ grin couldn’t be wider and whiter. It’s the same smile he’d given me when I’d last seen him on July 4, six years before. My thoughts drift back to the morning when I’d stopped to drop off the pot of black-eyed Susan to Callie’s house.

  My head is cloudy. Full of shit, I suppose you could say. I drive down the quiet street. The warm salty air hits my face and the sun is low beneath the horizon. The houses around here are in darkness. I have a shit-ton of work to do but I’d been tending to these flowers for a while. Callie will love them. I know they’ll look perfect around the perimeter of her garden.

  I swing into an open spot across the street, jump out, snatch up the pot from the cargo bed and jog across the street. I admire the front of the massive house for a moment and the red-white-and-blue flag which hangs from the front of it in all its glory.

  I take the stairs quietly and rest the large pot on the porch.

  The crickets chirp and the soft breeze flowing over where I stand along with the ocean crashing against the shoreline is soothing. I stand straight and descend two steps before a deep voice stops me.

  “Good morning.”

  I flinch where I stand, stunned someone had been sitting in the dark watching me.

  My eyes narrow. “Travis.”

  He nods a few times then lights up a cigarette.

  “I just came to drop off that pot for Callie.” I point to the pretty flowers.

  He bobs his head. “Yeah, I know. I saw you.” He smiles and takes a few puffs of the cigarette. “I see everything.”

  “Okay, yeah, well. I should get going.”

  “No, please stay for a bit. Talk to me.” His expression is serious and so is mine.

  I ascend the steps until I’m standing on the porch a few feet away from him.

  “You haven’t met Noah, Ethan, and Zac yet, have you?” He takes his baseball cap off.

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “I think they’d like you.”

  I make a face. “I don’t know.”

  “They would. If Callie likes you, they’d like you. They love their mom like that.” He stares off into the distance. “I saw you staring up at that flag over there.”

  The corners of my mouth twitch up into a smile. “Yeah, it looks good.”

  He puffs on the cigarette. “I gave up my life for that flag—my legs, my arm, and much of my hand.”

  I look at him.

  “I would go on about the rest of what I lost but I think you know...”

  I cock my head to the side and meet his gray eyes beneath the darkness. “I’m really sorry,” I say, referring
to the loss of his limbs but really meaning something else.

  He shrugs. “It’s a good thing.” He sucks his teeth. “You know Callie takes care of the things she loves. She hates to let them go, like that truck over there.” He nudges his chin in the direction of Callie’s blue Ford. “She’s had that truck since we were in high school.” He scoffs. “She won’t let the damn thing go.”

  I smile. “It looks good.”

  “Yeah, but it doesn’t run like it used to. I’d say it’s time for a new one.” He takes a few more puffs of his cigarette.

  “New isn’t always better.”

  “Maybe. But when it’s causing Callie more stress to fix it and take care of it and to keep it running... “He slants his head to the side and smirks. “She’s probably better off getting a new one.” He pins his eyes on the truck.

  “She loves that truck,” I say softly.

  “Yeah, she does. But it’s time to let it go.”

  “Uh huh,” I say.

  “It doesn’t mean she’ll love the new truck more than the old truck. They’re two different trucks.” His chest shakes with laughter.

  I laugh a little too.

  “They’re two different models, from two different time periods.” He sighs. “I mean a person is allowed to own more than one truck during their lifetime, aren’t they?”

  “Yeah, sure, of course,” I say softly.

  Travis smirks. “I bet that old Ford is tired of being poked and prodded with.”

  I lift a shoulder and shove my hand in my pocket. He’s still smoking. I’m staring up at the sky. I don’t know how much longer I should linger. I’m not even supposed to be here.

  “Are you in love?” he asks, lifting a brow.

  My mouth opens but no words come out. The question stuns me. Eventually, I answer. “Yeah, I am.”

  “She’s a lucky girl.”

  My lips flatten out. This is getting uncomfortable...

  He keeps his eyes on me. “Promise me you’ll marry her,” he says. “You know, make her happy, have babies, give it your fucking all...” He smokes some more. “Whoever she is.”

  I tip my head forward a few times. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

  “Yeah, you do that.” He scratches his tight jaw.

  I think that was a warning...

  My truck parked across the street is still running. I lower my boot to the first step. “I got to go. I should go. I have a lot to do today.” I run a hand over my beard.

  “Yeah, I’ll see you around,” Travis says.

  I take each step slowly then jog across the street. I jump in the driver’s seat feeling flustered. “What a weird fucking conversation!” I hiss to myself, putting the truck in drive.

  Travis gives me the same wave he had all those months ago when I’d first spotted him sitting on that porch beneath the cover of darkness. Soon a smile follows bright and gleaming.

  I smile back, lift my hand in a wave and drive off.

  The sound of Madison in the den giggling jerks me back to the present. I tap on the side of my coffee cup. I think about the morning on July 4 when I’d last seen Travis all the time.

  I think he was trying to tell me something.

  He knew about Callie and me.

  I told Callie about the encounter later that night, but it was all too late. She only smiled and nodded, offering me no words in response to my story. I still don’t push. Because I understand there are just too many emotions, complexities, pain, regrets, sadness, broken hopes and dreams, and unspoken words wrapped up in what happened to Callie and Travis’ marriage.

  It hurts her too much. And I hurt when she hurts, so I don’t push.

  Callie dances around the kitchen making waffles, singing along to the radio.

  These days the very nature of her is different. She smiles more. She hardly ever cries unless she’s watching Lifetime. She loves life. Callie is a beautiful, sexy, vivacious, incredible fucking woman.

  She does a shimmy that makes me laugh out loud. Hunter laughs too. Callie sashays around the kitchen, holding a spatula, singing into it like it’s a microphone.

  This is a sight a man could never tire of seeing in his kitchen every morning.

  I love Callie.

  And I hope I’ve made good on my promise to Travis to make Callie happy.

  “What do you want out of life?” Callie had once asked me after we finished fucking right in this very house that at one time I was fixing up. I never told her out loud. But if I had my way back then, had the guts to tell her what I wanted, my answer would’ve been: “You. A family. A home. A secure job.”

  I have all of that now. I’m an uncomplicated man. I don’t need anything else.

  And now instead of having half of Callie, I have all of her.

  And that makes me happy as fuck because it’s all I’ve ever wanted.

  Callie

  HHE’S STARING AT ME with that look again.

  Quickly, I set out the breakfast plates and call for Madison to come to the table. Her and Hunter are excited for the waffles covered in strawberry sauce and the bacon in front of them. I kiss them both on the top of their heads, maybe still a little shell-shocked that at the age of forty-six, I have two five-year-old kids.

  I think that might make me officially nuts.

  Austen’s muscular arm wraps around my waist when I ease up next to him and put his plate down. “Thank you, Callie.” He holds my gaze for a while.

  It becomes weird.

  Laughing, I back away and run my fingers through his thick hair, admiring how handsome he looks in a simple white T-shirt and lounge pants.

  He’s still handsome as hell. He’s my husband now and father of two of my children, who I never thought it was possible I could have. Of course, there was never any medical reason as to why I couldn’t have children. I only thought what woman in their right mind has more children when she already has three sons who are in college!

  Apparently, me.

  I choke back a laugh when Madison attempts to cut her waffle and fails miserably. Austen stands and does it for her.

  “Thank you, Daddy,” she says.

  Exhaling, I head across the kitchen and pour myself a cup of coffee.

  I’m grateful to have Saturdays off since the work week is full and hectic. I’m now the principal at Leighton Elementary School. Principal Sayers stepped down three years ago and thought I’d be well-suited to take his place. I thought about turning it down but after being encouraged by fellow teachers and of course, Austen, I decided to take the job.

  The chatter in the background fills me with warmth.

  Slowly, I reach out and drop two cubes of sugar in the cup of coffee in my hands.

  Life happened.

  Everything had changed drastically. I moved into this house and I haven’t been back to the old one since. I can’t bear to step inside of it. So, sometimes I just drive by and look at it from the street. It’s still beautiful, especially beneath the morning sunlight.

  It’s empty right now, but in the next three months, it’ll soon be occupied by Ethan and his wife, Sarah, who just gave birth to their first child, a son named Travis.

  So, I’m a grandmother too.

  Zac is still at university and close to obtaining his doctorate degree in psychology. Ethan is an OBGYN. He’ll be opening his own practice in Mount Pleasant soon, which there seems to be a need for since practically every woman I pass around here these days seems to be pregnant. And Noah has his own software company in Mount Pleasant.

  Ivy and I remain friends, but we aren’t as close as we used to be. She doesn’t understand my relationship with Austen and I hate the way her husband treats both Brandon and Austen, so it’s driven a stake the size of a fifty-foot steel piling through our relationship.

  And of course, we can’t forget the part about her fucking my son.

  I never confronted either her or Noah about their affair which seems to have ended as soon as Noah headed off for college. Thank God.

 
Austen and I spend a lot of time with Jace and Pippa. The couple have always been great friends. They like Austen. Jace and Austen even hang out together on the weekends without us gals doing “guy stuff.”

  Life is normal.

  I stare out the window at the ocean in the distance and think about that infamous night...Even now, I can’t think about it without feeling like I’m about to burst into tears.

  I replay the conversation I had with Trav that night often, usually when I’m looking out at the beach. After he’d kissed me and gone inside our house, he’d taken his own life by putting a single bullet in his head with his favorite gun.

  I was told he died right away, with no pain. It was little consolation.

  I wondered after he was gone how many times he’d thought about taking his own life. And I knew that night wasn’t the first time he’d considered it. I knew there’d been many other times he’d thought about leaving us and escaping the broken body he felt trapped in.

  But something had stopped him from doing it.

  Maybe his love for me? Perhaps, the realization I’d be left alone? And then all thoughts swarmed around in my head he’d possibly gone through with it that time because he knew I wouldn’t be alone. He knew I’d have Austen and that I’d be okay.

  There was a lot I wondered about...that I’ll never have the answers to.

  I cried for days after unable to believe it had all happened. That Trav was gone.

  And I partly felt it was my fault.

  The guilt I carried each day while falling in love with Austen often felt like a six-ton stone that was slowly crushing me to death.

  It was reckless and intense and there were times I worried I was literally going crazy. But I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t give Austen up. And the longer I carried on that relationship, the harder I fell and soon I was in a hole so deep that was filled with so many emotions, I couldn’t crawl out.

  I loved Austen then. I love him now. His smile. His personality. The way he hung on to me and never gave up even when he knew there were so many times he should’ve walked away. He should’ve found a younger woman. He should’ve dated a woman who was single and could give him what he wanted. There were many times I questioned why he stuck around. And the answer wasn’t complicated.