by Rose Hudson
Fuck it. She asked me to hold him yesterday and I can’t stand to see him crying. I reach down and lift him to my chest, his cry quieting to a whimper as I pat his back. Turning to walk to the couch, Lydia stands behind me, bottle in hand and a smile on her face.
“Is this okay? He was really crying.”
“It’s fine. I’m just having a hard time believing you haven’t done this before.” She hands me the bottle and I take it, moving to sit on the couch.
“Yeah, well, I guess we all gotta learn sometime. Right?” I adjust Liam in the crook of my arm, putting the bottle to his mouth. He immediately starts gulping the contents, nearly choking. Lydia reaches down and adjusts him, helping him take slower sucks. She sits beside me and Bruno sniffs him a couple of times before lying at my feet.
“Ever think about having one of your own?” she asks. I nod a couple times, having considered this before.
“I do. But honestly, I thought more about being a foster parent or adopting more than I’ve thought about having my own. Not that I wouldn’t want a child of my own, there are just a lot of kids who need families.”
She turns to the side, crossing a leg under her, appraising me. “Same,” she says simply. “I’ve actually talked to a friend of my fathers who works for an adoption agency. The number of American children in foster homes is staggering. Coming from a great family myself, it’s hard to imagine not having that. Even more so, that there aren’t more people anxious to consider it.”
I want to look at her, but the ball of emotion in my chest keeps my eyes glued to Liam. I guess I thought someone like her would never consider fostering or adopting, or possibly even be in opposition of it. It’s just another thing I add to my mental notes of things I’ve been wrong about with her.
“You said in your text that you could use my help?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Oh. Yeah. Well, let me just show you.” She nods, standing and walking around the couch. She comes back around, pulling a large cardboard box with her, sliding the top off to reveal something with wheels.
“What is it?”
“A jogging stroller,” she says, hand on her hip, looking down at it like it’s a giant Rubix’s cube. I figured it was something of the sort, but the thing is huge and looks like it could fit way more than a little baby.
“Damn. Looks like you want him to have plenty of room.”
“Liz, Madi’s mom, ordered it. Apparently, it’s like the Rolls Royce of jogging strollers. It has this weatherproof cover and everything. I knew when I opened the box there was no way my Jedi skills were strong enough.”
I laugh, because, Star Wars. I add that one to my mental notepad of shit I’ve gotten wrong about her.
The bottle begins to run dry and I look from Liam to Lydia, pulling it from his mouth.
“Here, you take him and I’ll see if the force is strong with this one.” It’s her turn to laugh at me. She steps in front of me and takes him, our fingers getting tangled in the exchange. We look at each other, trying not to fumble in our awkwardness. She steps back a little as I move to stand up, and the same feeling of rightness from the sidewalk yesterday as I helped them into the car creeps into my chest.
Like a caged animal, I want to lean down and take her lips. I want to pull her to me and hold her, even if Liam is between us because I can picture a future never seen in my mind.
I want to be the best instead of always doing things that make me the worst.
And something in her eyes tells me she wants me to be good for her, too.
Pushing the button on the handle of the stroller, I open it from its collapsed state, proud that it seems like I’ve put it together correctly.
“What do you think?” I look up at Lydia, who beams in approval.
“I think you did it.” She takes the handle and rolls it around the main room, zipping the weatherproof canopy up and down, checking all the parts to ensure the quality. “Considering I haven’t gotten to run in days, I think this thing is going to be my new favorite toy.”
“Why don’t we take it around the block then?”
She looks out the window and I follow her eyes, noting how dark it is. I guess it’s later than I thought. I look at the clock on the wall.
“Ah, yeah, it’s already eight. I didn’t realize.”
“How about since it’s so late, we go first thing in the morning? Then we can actually go to Lake Shore and get a run in.”
It’s a better idea. I’m sure she’s as beat as I am anyway.
“He’s out, I’m going to go put him in his crib.” She turns and heads down the hallway, Bruno at her heel, following her into the nursery.
She comes out and I don’t know why I expect Bruno to be behind her, especially since he’s just as wrapped up in her as I am.
“He holding down the fort?” I ask.
“You know it.” She smiles. “Listen, I don’t want this to sound too forward, but you’re welcome to stay and sleep on the couch. I mean, if we’re going for an early run, you may as well.”
I’m sure she sees my eyes widen, even though I try my best to keep it hidden.
“Thanks, but I’m pretty sure we’ve taken up enough of your time. I just wanted to come by and check on you guys.”
“Please, you being here is nice. You have a way of making me feel…safe.” She looks away from me for a moment before looking back. Out of everything she’s said to me, this resonates. It strikes a chord. It means a lot. “I mean, I understand that you have your own places to be and things to do, so don’t let us interfere,” she says, walking into the kitchen.
I follow her, needing to be close and needing her to hear me. She has her back to me at the sink and I step close behind her, noticing the way her head lift just so, looking straight ahead rather than down at the bottle she rinses under the water.
She doesn’t ask me to leave, doesn’t move away. I take another step, the slightest brush of my chest to her back. The bottle drops to the sink basin and her hands go to the edge of the counter, gripping it so tight I can see her knuckles flex white. It reminds me of the night she drank tequila from my lips and how hard it was to show her she could trust me by not taking her mouth with mine, so firm and fucking possessive like I wanted to.
“Today I realized I want to keep you safe, that I want to be here because I don’t like the thought of you doing this by yourself,” I speak soft, determined into her ear, and she turns her head just slightly toward me. “But how long do you think we can do this before I’m begging to be inside you again? Before you let go of the restraints keeping you from letting me?”
She swallows thick, lips parting just enough for me to hear her breath escape.
She shuts the water off, turning her body to face me but looking at my chest instead of my eyes because she knows what she’ll find in their depths. I gently tilt her chin up so her eyes meet mine, and for once I don’t see reservation or unsubstantiated fear, I see the same dark waters there. I place my arms on the counter’s edge on either side of her.
“How long, Lydia?”
“Not long enough,” she answers on an exhale. We stare at each other, unmoving, involved in a standoff of will and desire.
“I’ve never wanted to just kiss someone, but right now, I really need to kiss you.” I search her eyes for rejection, but find none.
“Then kiss me. Please kiss me.”
Although the savage in me wants to disassemble every part of her to fit with me, the man she makes me want to be takes over and I close the distance between our lips.
Kissing first her top then bottom lip slowly. She lets me take my time, linger, breathe her in and focus on the pure and blissful taste of her on my tongue as I invade her mouth.
Her hands run up my arms, exploring, appreciating each ridge of them with her fingertips before holding the back of my neck and pulling me to her inch by excruciating fucking inch.
When our bodies meld together, my hands falling to her ass, lifting her up to sit on the counter,
I know if I take her, the way I’ve never wanted to take another woman before, I’ll regret it.
Not because it’s not what we both want, but because I know I want more with her. And I know if I’ve ever got a chance at having her, truly having her, I’ve got to prove to not only her, but myself, that I can be what she deserves. And even more, for reasons I don’t understand, I need to hear her say that she wants me for more than what this started out as.
I slow our kiss, clasping her face in my hands and kissing the corner of her mouth, the rise of her cheek, and pulling back to look at her, praying that she can somehow see it for what it is. Her forehead presses to mine.
“Do you not want me?” Her voice is pained and I close my eyes to hide the pang of guilt I feel.
“Right now, I want you too much. I want to be careful with you—do right by you. Let me do that.”
She nods against my forehead. I lean away and let out a sharp whistle, hearing Bruno’s paws against the hardwood almost immediately.
Before I have time to change my mind, I press my lips to hers, before turning quickly and exiting the room.
When I get home, my mind is filled with questions, and even more, confusion as to who the man looking back at me in my bathroom mirror is.
Not ever have I felt the need, or wanted to change myself or my lifestyle for anyone or anything. I’ve made sacrifices for my brothers, for Celia and Jerry. But that never required change. I’ve always been me and I’ve never questioned that.
Instead, I’ve always stood firm in the things I value about myself and the man I’ve become despite being thrown obstacle after fucking obstacle. But just like with my business and my level of success, it never seems to be enough. Even back when I was neck deep in the underground, I made sure I won every fight, no matter the cost or what it took to get there. I didn’t just want to be the best, I wanted it known that I was the best.
And now, all of that seems so insignificant on the grand scale, at the moment, the only thing that matters to me, is being the best for Lydia and showing her that I do deserve her.
But what happens when she finds out that I’m taking this fight? That I’m mixed up in whatever game Joseph fucking Cameron is playing? Family is family and I have to do this for my brother. It’s my duty and part of a commitment that I made to him long before he even knew what a commitment was.
And at the same time, I already want to commit myself to Lydia, and if God forbid Madison doesn’t come back from this, Liam too. I want to be part of whatever Lydia’s life consists of, and if Liam is a part of that, then I’ll grow to be a part of his too.
If she’ll have me.
If I can prove myself to her.
If there’s one thing I know about relationships, even though I’ve never had one and stayed far away from the fucking possibility, I know that trust and commitment are the foundation. So how the fuck can I look myself in this mirror and say that I want nothing more than to build a relationship with her if I’m already keeping shit from her?
She knows something, but I don’t know how much. Maybe she knows about the fight and that’s why she keeps just enough distance. Maybe she knows about the fight and is waiting to see if I pull out before she lets her walls down. Or maybe she doesn’t know anything but she trusts me enough to tell her the truth without questioning me.
I splash water on my face and pat it dry, flipping the light off and falling back on the bed. Soft snores come from Bruno at the side of the bed and I lean over to look at his big ass flat of his back, sleeping like a baby. No doubt he’ll be the only one getting sleep tonight.
Sliding my phone from the nightstand, I double check my alarm is set and then click onto mine and Lydia’s text thread.
Pick you up at 6?
I press send, noting the time is almost ten and wondering if she’s awake. My questions answered when her typing a response is indicated on the screen.
Okay. Message me when you get here.
There’s nothing about her response that speaks irritation or hurt, but I feel it in them. Whether it’s in my head or even if it’s not, I feel the need to say more.
I don’t play games, Lydia. I meant what I said tonight. Believe that.
She must’ve known I’d have more to say because her response is immediate.
I’ll believe you until you give me a reason not to. See you in the morning.
My gut twists and I close my eyes briefly before typing out my last response.
Goodnight, goddess.
IT’S ALMOST TOO MUCH WHEN I walk out and see Liam asleep on Stone’s chest. Of all the times, he’s stopped by after work or on the weekend over the last couple of weeks, I can’t recall a time it’s sat so heavy on my heart before. Maybe I’ve taken his presence for granted. Maybe I’ve not even given it the notice or credit he deserves. But right now, the heaviness of it falls around me like the snow of the Chicago February that is surprisingly absent this year.
Initially, his presence in my life was nothing more than casual sex that turned to loathing when stereotypical assumptions were made and venom replaced desire. How we arrived here, in this unknown territory where friendship and love are present, yet unstable and disorienting, can only be attributed to the amazing man I now know him to be, and my own self-admittance that my assumptions were wrong.
An even harder blow to my pride is the certainty that he has known and understood the reasons for my biased opinion of him, and instead of holding me accountable for my mistakes, he chose to prove himself to me. I’m not sure if he’d ever admit that to me willingly, but it’s there, in every action, every word, and every touch, no matter how few and far between they are.
I reach for my phone on the coffee table, unable to stop myself, taking a picture to freeze this moment in time. It all feels too right, too fleeting and soon to be the life of someone other than myself.
Reaching down I pick Liam up and move him quickly to my chest, Stone’s eyes blinking open at his absence.
“I’m going to put him in his bed.”
He nods.
When I put Liam down in his bed, I hesitate just a moment, noting the change I can already see in him since his birth and closing my eyes at the thought of Madi and wishing she were here to see each little detail of him.
When I walk back into the living room, Stone’s lying on his side, flush against the back of the couch with arms open.
“Lay with me.” Such a simple command that carries such unobtainable promise. But it doesn’t matter.
Hair still damp from my shower, dressed in an oversized t-shirt and a weary heart, I do what he asks, his arms wrapping around me as I lay in front of him.
“You smell good.”
“Nice change, isn’t it?” I laugh.
“You always smell good, sometimes just different.” He nuzzles into my neck. It’s so natural. It all seems so simple. If only I could let go and let him in and he could do the same.
But what are we doing? We’ve slipped into some middle ground between fuck buddies or friends without benefits and co-parents. Everything and nothing at once. All the while, I’m still struggling with myself to process even being around him, my body wanting one thing and my brain screaming another.
“Relax, goddess. Just close your eyes and try to get some sleep while you have the chance.”
I freeze, feeling caught like a thief in the night, unaware that my battle was visible to him. He wraps his arms tighter around me, my body relaxing of its own accord, each part of me fitting perfect against each part of him.
“Tell me something about you that nobody knows,” I say.
“Like what? A secret?” He pokes up my side, attempting to make light of my question. I shut him down.
“Seriously.” I turn to my back so I can see him, propped on a pillow looking down at me. “It doesn’t have to be a secret, just something about you.”
He looks into my eyes, before looking away, aware that I’m not letting it go. I need this. Something tangible that I can ho
ld onto and justify my need to be around him. A part of me doesn’t want to know the answer, but a bigger part of me needs to know. “
Why did you get into fighting?”
His eyes snap back to mine, but the fight quickly leaves them as he recognizes my need.
“At the beginning, I was just a kid who needed to punch something. I tried to understand why my mother left us, but all it did was make me angry. Really angry. That anger turned to aggression and I guess you could say her suicide created the fighter that I became. I fought at school daily and then Jerry would beat my ass when I got home.”
I swallow thickly.
“Why didn’t you tell your service worker? Surely with them being foster parents, you could’ve reported them?”
“We had a decent home, food and clothes, and we had Celia. There was a point that I thought I hated him, sometimes I still think that, but really, I owe him. We’re all raised different and I know it sounds cruel, but it gave me the will to never quit. He knew I needed to be an animal to survive.”
My heart aches for him.
“He knew I needed an outlet, and after he lost his job, he needed money. So, that summer he entered me into training with the underground league.”
“Celia didn’t have a problem with it? I mean, Liam’s not even my son, but there’s no way I could be okay with him doing something like that.”
“I get what you’re saying, and now I would agree with you. But you and I come from very different places. Celia didn’t find out for a while, but she was mad when she did until she accepted that we didn’t have a choice. She prayed over me nightly, asked God to protect me and keep me strong. And he did.”
It’s hard for me to understand how God played any role in a childhood like that, how he’d be okay with allowing a thirteen-year-old boy to be put in harm’s way for grocery money.
I reach up and cup Stone’s face, tracing my finger over the scar above his brow, to the one at his chin. His eyes dance across my face, I’m sure trying to read me as much as I’m trying to read him.
I want him to touch me, to kiss me and fuck me and let me take some of his pain. Right now, I want to be the one he turns to.