by Mj Fields
“Where!” I gasp, or yell, or both.
“I have a job I need to do.” He lifts the spatula and points toward the bathroom. “Shower.”
“I don’t need you here.”
“Didn’t say you did, but that’s not up to you and you alone.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that he’s mine, too.” He turns away.
“Yeah, well, when you found out I was pregnant, I didn’t see you trying to claim paternity, so why now? Because you’re bored and can’t go play GI Joe until you heal?”
“Found out about five hours before the explosion that you were pregnant. I asked Mom if it was mine while I was coming out of a drug-induced coma. Thought if there was a chance”—he winks at Chance, and he smiles at him—“that I was, you’d have done the right thing and told me. Wasn’t thinking that you would’ve hid it until I saw you. Then, I made the decision to get stronger and make sure you were doing the same before asking. Now, I’m not gonna wait until that happens, so here I am, making breakfast for you, fed both kids, and telling you to take a damn shower because clearly you aren’t strong enough to take care of you and them.”
“That’s mighty kind of you,” I say, looking at the sink and seeing two empty bottles and that he used the premade baby food. “But how about you try not to take care of something while you’re bored and at home, something that you may only be able to take care of once or twice a year. That never ends well, and it’s not fair to them.”
He smirks and cocks his eyebrow. “Twice a year was good enough for you for seven years.”
When I ball my fists, he looks down.
“Not in front of the kids, queen. Now, go shower.”
I am so pissed I want to slug him, to scream at him.
“I’m not going anywhere, Ava. Can’t go back. I was medically discharged, so I have nothing but time on my hands.”
I start to say something when I notice he looks less like an arrogant asshole.
“Had I heard it from you, my head wouldn’t have been a mess, and I would have been first in that building. I would have probably been the one who came back in a bag. My best friend is dead instead of me, so don’t. Don’t tell me to walk away, because I can mind fuck this situation, too, and make this even uglier.”
“You wanna blame using all your prayers on me as the reason he’s not here? I can blame you messing my head up for the reason two boys and a woman don’t have a daddy or a husband. Now, go shower. The three of us were just fine before you came out.”
I don’t move, feeling a lump form in my throat.
He is looking at me with his eyes narrowed, not saying anything. In his former words, though, in the look he is giving me now, I know damn well things are going to get uglier than I ever thought possible.
Once upon a time, a little girl loved a little boy. He was her knight, her protector, her everything. Then she twisted Fate, and Fate fought back with a force that rocked the entire world, destroying lives and causing devastation and pain.
I once thought Fate was a bitch. Now I know she is an ugly cunt. If she thinks for one minute she is going to harm one hair on the heads of the children who grew inside me, she has another thing coming.
No one, not Fate, not Luke, not friends, family, or foe, will ever hurt my children. I won’t allow it.
“Ava, I’m not your biggest fan right now, but I can assure you, I am still the man I have always been—a man of my word. I give you my word I won’t slip out the door with him while your back is turned. Now, go take a shower; they’re fine.”
Chapter Eleven
Together we can overcome. — C. MacRae
Luke
I walk out the door, feeling better than I have in months. My head is clear, I have a mission, I slept in a bed for the first time in days, and I have a little boy, a beautiful little boy, whose name is...everything. Chance Thomas.
The last name will get straightened out, but Chance Thomas is everything. He is my second chance in life. His middle name, although when given it, I’m damn sure she wasn’t thinking of my father, it was his name.
Thomas, my father, was held in such high regard by everyone who knew him, and Chance Thomas will be no different.
Hope, now that’s a totally different story. She’s going to have one hell of a time if her mother doesn’t pull her shit together.
Ava. Her shit is splattered everywhere. Hell, it hits hundreds of miles away from here. She is going to have a hell of a time, and no, I don’t like the thought of it. Until she decides she’s ready to face the facts, though, she has not a prayer of being strong enough for what needs to be dealt with.
I will give her time and ample opportunity, but I will not run. I will not leave one of my own.
When I finish with the first floor security panel installation at the front desk, I’m sore, but not the same type of sore I have been for months. It feels good.
I tell them I will be back to finish the first floor and second tomorrow, not that they give a damn. Then I sit in my truck, laptop in hand, going through footage and hoping like hell to find something.
After finding the date and time, I study the footage, which means I have to try not to think about why the hell a man would watch a woman in a maid’s uniform with a feather duster and a fucking clown nose dust the same piece of furniture for an hour.
I turn up the volume when the time approaches and hear the sound of metal and a scream, a female scream.
I zoom in, but the shot is blurry. I see a person get out of a vehicle and run toward the scene. Then there’s a muffled argument between a woman and a man. At present time, I kind of like the bitch that is Nan Buford, and even her narrow, little ass since she doesn’t fill the window, and her kink isn’t just visual, it’s got audio, unlike the store front’s footage.
I see the top of a vehicle. It pisses me off that I don’t know United States’ civilian vehicles like I do the military’s and vehicles in the Middle East. I could easily pick out the make and model of those by seeing the tire tracks or a fucking exhaust pipe, but not this shit.
I need a better computer, a bigger screen. I need to do some research, and I need to have it all wrapped up in a neat, little package before I take it to the Brooklyn PD.
Something makes me look up and into my rear view mirror. I see Ava pushing a stroller that looks like an all-terrain vehicle as she crosses the street behind me.
Closing the laptop, I get out and close the door, hurrying as best I can to catch up.
“Ava,” I call out from behind her, and she jumps. “Easy girl.”
She looks at me with angry eyes, and I remember how she froze in front of the pole last night.
“You’re doing great.”
“I don’t need a cheerleader,” she states, her lips in a straight line.
“How about a friend?”
For a moment, she looks almost sad, and then, well, Ava scowls. “A friend, Luke? A friend? You’re a threat to my family.”
Her words stop me in my tracks while she keeps going. She sees me as a threat? I’m not a fucking threat. I’m here to make things right.
I turn around and walk back to my truck. If I stay, I will end up saying something to piss her off because, honest to God, she is pissing me off.
I’m turning into someone’s bitch, I think to myself as I lug groceries from my truck up to her place. I can’t live on pizza and a meal replacement shake like she can. I can’t. I won’t. Neither will she. That’s probably half the reason she’s being a bitch—she’s half-starved.
When I walk in, the curtain is again blowing in the balcony doorway. I know what she’s doing. She’s grieving.
I decide to put the groceries away and leave her to it.
If she only knew that I understood, that I don’t blame her, that I blame him. If only she knew.
I look at the cupboards. What the hell? Nothing makes sense.
Fuck, Ava, what are you doing?
I do much better w
ith structure. Anyone who says they don’t is full of shit, so here I sit, on a bar stool, going through drawers and trying to make sense of the senseless. Killshot would have a fucking field day with me right now.
For the first time, I smile at the thought of him, of the man he was and all he did in the world. I think about the shit he gave me about mail day and how he knew I was hiding out in the bathroom. He pretty much knew I was getting off to whatever it was “Miss A,” as he called her, had sent me.
Closing my eyes, I run my hand over my hair and shake my head. Then I look up when Ava clears her throat.
“Hey,” I say then look away. She doesn’t say anything, so I look back up. “You okay?”
“Are you?”
I nod. “Just thinking about a friend.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” she seems to force herself to say as she grabs a sweater off the high back bar stool beside her and wraps herself up.
“Genuine or not, you’d have loved him.” I continue placing all the silverware in one drawer. “I’m sorry for yours, too, Ava.”
When she doesn’t say anything, I just keep working at this mess, listening to her walk away, and then the washing machine starts.
She’s showered, taken a walk, done laundry, fed the kids. She’s getting stronger.
An hour later, the kitchen cupboards make sense. Well, to me, anyway. They are like Mom’s.
I look up and smile as she comes out of the nursery.
“There is nothing to smile about, Luke. Not a damn thing.”
“You wake up this morning to a roof over your head, kids who are smiling, and food to feed them? Yeah, Ava, there is a lot to smile about.” I start to walk toward the couch, needing to put my legs up. “I’ve traveled the world, been to places the Devil himself wouldn’t dare go, but one thing always amazed me.”
She looks annoyed but plays along, crossing her arms over her chest. “What?”
“Mothers. They want nothing more than for their babies to be okay. We’d have a backpack full of rations, and Killshot would give his last one away just to save a woman from damn near passing out from hunger. She’d find the strength to give it to her children before she’d even take a bite. You all want what’s best for your kids, Ava. I’m not here to make your life hell.”
She sits down at the opposite end of the couch and puts her elbows on her knees. “What happens when they find out, Luke? Can you imagine what they’ll think of me? What the two of them, my most favorite humans on the planet, will think?” She stops when she starts to sob, and I can’t stop myself from moving over and pulling her into a hug.
She stiffens, and so do I. We don’t hug. Hell, I don’t hug my own mother unless it’s a good-bye or a hello. Ava and I are never this close, unless...
Don’t even go there, for fuck’s sake, I scold myself. Stand the fuck down.
I take a deep breath, and she seems to relax.
“We’ll figure it out, Ava.”
She huffs then pushes herself up before walking away. “Yeah, you’ll be the hero, and I’ll be the whore.”
“You were never a whore, Ava.”
She shakes her head as she walks toward the bathroom.
When she comes out moments later, her eyes are red.
She takes a deep breath then declares, “Luke, I can’t do this. And I know you think that’s selfish, but it’s not about me; it’s about them. What will people say? How will they treat them? Please, just please—”
Annoyed because I know damn well what she’s asking me to do, and that she actually thinks I may consider it, I shake my head. “We will figure it out.”
The water on the stove begins to boil, so I remove it from the heat and, in doing so, burn my hand. Quickly, I turn and run it under the water.
I hear Ava behind me, shutting the refrigerator door, and then she hands me a pink gel-filled teddy bear. “In the real world, we use pot holders.”
I nod. “Yeah.”
She takes my hand and opens it.
“Ava, it’ll be fine. Everything we’ve been through, all the hell of the past few months, it’s never gonna be forgotten, but...for us, for you, for me, and for those two beautiful babies, we gotta make sure that everything is okay.”
She releases my hand and swallows hard. “When you walk away, remember I told you this was a bad idea.”
“I’m not walking away.”
“Please, Luke, for them, just...”
“Ava, I’m not walking away.”
“And to think, I didn’t think you could ever say or do anything to hurt me worse than you did last December.” Her words slice me open. “How will we ever be friends enough to make this work when, every time I look at you, I wish it was him who was still here and you who was gone?”
Those words, they dive in so deep I feel sick to my stomach. Regardless, I show her nothing. Instead, I turn and grab a towel, then dump the noodles into the strainer.
“Sauce is on the stove. I’m heading out.”
“Oh, you’re running? What, you don’t want to see Chance now because I told you the truth, Luke?”
I get on the elevator and close the door.
“How the hell did you think this was going to turn out?” she practically screams.
I sit in my truck, focusing on the mission, not the one that has my emotions spiking, but the one I know I can damn well handle.
I upload the clown nose clip and send it to one of the men I used to work with on intel, Raider. Then I call him. Bad idea, since he tries to make the conversation about me. I have no interest in talking about me, so when I tell him I am fine, he laughs. Then, apparently, he remembers who the hell I am and saves the chick shit, the soul to soul, for someone else. He assures me I will have the make and model of the vehicle, and anything else he can find within forty-eight hours.
As soon as I hang up with him, my mother calls. I still let her believe I am down south. She doesn’t pry, just tells me I need to get home soon for PT, saying just because I feel better, that doesn’t mean I should be out “ramming the roads.”
After that, I decide to hit the bar down the road. I want to see if they know anything. Plus, I could use a beer. Hell, maybe three.
Two hours and six beers later, I am stumbling back to my truck.
Note to self: Don’t drink on an empty stomach.
I start to get in my truck when I realize my luck has been shit lately, and that, if I pass out and a cop sees me, I will get a DUI for just having the keys in my possession.
I decide, fuck it. I grab my bag, sling it over my shoulder, and go to face...her.
When I walk in, Ava is on all fours, and Hope is on her belly, lifting her head up every so often. Chance, he’s holding it up without issue.
My boy.
She looks up then back at Chance. “You got it. Come on, little man. Roll over.”
He starts to jabber at her. Meanwhile, Hope’s legs are kicking, and her hands flailing. It’s like she’s trying to move toward her, but she is too little to do it.
I laugh when she surprises me by rolling onto her back, and then she sees me and smiles.
“Hi, little princess,” I say, looking down at her.
Chance hears my voice and turns his head in my direction.
I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, trying not to let emotions show, and then I carefully lower myself to the ground.
“Come on, Chance,” Ava says, picking him up.
“He’s fine.”
“You need a shower.” She holds his head against her chest, covering his exposed ear, and whispers, “You smell like a bar.”
I don’t say a damn thing. What can I say? Yeah, you’re right, Ava? She would probably argue that, too.
In the shower, I almost have to take a knee, and when I finally get out, I end up doing just that.
Pain shoots up my body, and I curse out loud. I didn’t realize how loud until Ava throws the door open with Chance on her hip and gasps.
“Don’t move.” She quickly
makes her way out of the bathroom, repeating, “Don’t move.”
Five, four, three, two, one. I move, pulling myself up by the bathroom counter. I grab a towel, wrapping my lower half.
“What part of don’t move did you not understand?”
“I’m fine, Ava.”
“Are you that drunk or—”
“I couldn’t walk a few months ago. Two months ago, I decided to do something about it. Save your concern and your worries. I’m strong, Ava. I’m gonna be fine.” I walk out of the bathroom, showing her what I told her.
I see the babies now sitting in their bouncy seats. I wink at Chance and smile at Hope as I make my way past them and into the office where I sit on the bed that I notice has fresh sheets and a blanket, along with one more pillow.
I position the pillows under my leg and lie back, closing my eyes and trying to calm my mind, my hurt—all these fucking feelings.
It’s completely dark when I wake up to a swollen knee, and my clothes are in my bag in the other room where I left them. That’s when I see a journal sitting on the desk across the room.
Curiosity gets the best of me, so I make my way over and grab it. Sitting on the end of the desk, I open it up.
Page 1
Love is love.
Page 2
Love is her feet that brought her to me.
Page 3
Love is her smile and the way in which it effortlessly makes mine feel whole for the first time in my life.
Page 4
Love is the pain you feel when their heart is aching.
Page 5
Love is the sun breaking through the rain and clouds and storms, giving you strength to carry on.
Page 6
Love is the clarity you receive in even the worst moments.
Page 7
Love is in the kindness she shows others.
Page 8