by Freya Barker
“What about mom?” he whispers as the first tear rolls down his face.
“Oh, buddy,” I mumble, pulling his little body in my arms and holding him tight, wondering how to explain to a nine-year-old that his fantasy is an impossible one. “Your mom and I were over a long time ago. We were so happy when you two came into our lives, but we weren’t good for each other.”
“But I heard her say she’d get you back. I thought maybe—“
“That wasn’t gonna happen, kiddo. With or without Syd, that was never going to happen again.” I don’t tell him that I suspect his mother’s words had nothing to with wanting to reunite.
“Do you like Syd?” Emmy speaks up beside him, drawing her brother’s eyes to her.
“U-huh,” he confirms, “a lot. She’s nice.”
“I do too. She’s not mean and drunk all the time, and I like having her around,” Emmy leans into him to whisper, “And Dad does too. She makes him smile. I like it when Dad smiles, don’t you?”
Dex just nods at her, tears all dried up now.
Out of the mouths of babes.
Syd
Even though it stung a little, I knew I had to give the kids some time to talk to their father. I hadn’t yet earned the right to claim space in their house or their lives. Gunnar is impatient, and I can sense his need to claim me completely, which was so tempting. After times in the past months, I was sure I was going to lose him before I even had him, I leapt at the chance to embed myself permanently into his reality, but when I noticed Dex’s confusion, I realized it was too soon.
I’m getting dressed, collecting my things from around the bedroom and bathroom when Gunnar walks in, stopping dead in his tracks.
“Going somewhere?” he growls, a hint of anger behind his words. I walk up to him and reach up to kiss his tight mouth, leaving my hands to rest on his chest.
“I meant what I said down there, but I think we’re moving too fast. The kids aren’t ready for us together yet.”
“I call bullshit,” he bites off. “I want you here. The kids like you here. I think you’re using them as an excuse.”
“But Dex—“ I start before he cuts me off.
“Dex overheard his mom say she’d ‘get me back’. He mistook that to mean she still wanted me, creating a fantasy he’s nurtured ever since. Not realizing her words likely had a totally different and much less friendly intent. It has nothing to do with you and he realizes that as sad as it is, nothing will ever happen with his mom and I because I have exactly what makes me happy.” I hang onto every word from his lips, and when he dips down and brings his eyes level with mine, my heart skips at the intensity in them. “You,” he says and takes a minute to let that sink in before continuing. “They’re downstairs right now, talking about what we can do as a family today. They know you make me happy. Emmy said she likes the way you make me smile more, and even Dex agreed. It makes them happy. Don’t walk away for their sakes, because all they want is to have the kind of ‘sweet’ you’ve brought into our lives. If you leave, at least be honest with yourself and admit it’s for your sake that you’re walking.”
With that, he suddenly turns and walks out, pulling the bedroom door shut behind him. I just stand there, going over all he’s said and wondering if there isn’t a grain of truth in his words.
Am I trying to use the kids as an excuse to create some distance? Or is it possible I feel the urge to run because perhaps I still feel undeserving. I get the sense that if I go back to my apartment, I might be walking away from a lot more than just his house, and the thought of losing him—losing them—is paralyzing.
He’s right. It’s about me and my fears more so than about the kids. I’m a coward. I’m the one who is afraid to go in all the way and am using everything in my power to justify it.
The three of them have their backs to me as they sit at the counter and seem to be making their way through my pancakes as I stand in the doorway and watch them. It’s right there in front of me, waiting for me to grab hold of—the promise of a new life. All I have to do is push through the fear of possible loss; of painful rejection. I can’t live the rest of my life letting the scars my past burned on my soul, rule every decision for my future.
When I slide my arms around Gunnar’s torso from behind and lay my cheek on the broad expanse of his back, I feel him suck in a breath and stiffen beneath me before he lets it go in a big rush of air. His hand comes up and covers my two folded on his stomach, pulling them up over his heart.
“I’m here,” I say softly, to which I get a slight squeeze on my hands in response.
“I’m still hungry,” Dex breaks the charged energy in the kitchen, which has me smiling and Gunnar chuckling under my hands.
“Right,” I say, forcefully dragging myself away from Gunnar and heading back to the stove where more batter is waiting, and a smile firmly plastered on my face.
After the second round of pancakes are devoured, I turn to the kids. “So what do you guys have planned for the day?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Syd
“Thanks. Yes, I’ll be sure to let Mom know.”
Gunnar is just ending his call when I come downstairs from my shower in one of his shirts.
We’d been late this morning after a long and busy day yesterday. The kids couldn’t agree on the same activity, so we ended up at the Portland Flea-for-all market around the corner from Florence House, where Emmy had wanted to go. We grabbed some lunch there before heading off to Hadlock Field to watch the Sea Dogs play. Obviously, that was Dexter’s choice and I’d never been, so that was a lot of fun as well.
The kids both fell asleep on the way home and Gunnar ended up carrying each of them upstairs to bed. I was in bed and sleeping hard and dreamless by the time he must’ve come in.
I chuckle, thinking of Gunnar’s frustration this morning, trying to get them out of bed. His hair standing up all over the place from tugging on it when it took the threat of a bucket of water to get the kids up and ready for school.
“What’s funny?” he wants to know as he stalks toward me.
“Nothing.” I try to hide my smile when he slips his arms around me and pulls me into his chest.
“You laughing at me?”
This time I can’t hold back a giggle and it brings a smile to Gunnar’s face as he bends down to me. He takes my mouth in a voracious kiss, stealing the breath right out of me. When a groan escapes me under his onslaught, he grabs my ass and lifts me up on the counter he’s backed me into.
“God, Bird. What you do to me,” he mumbles before sliding his hand in my hair, pulling my head back and latching his mouth onto my neck. My hands clutch at his ass, pulling his hips closer between my legs; the large bulge behind his zipper rubbing against my aching center.
Just like that, he has me all wound up and so turned on, I can feel myself getting slick for him. Fumbling hands undo the button at the top of his jeans and with frantic need, I yank down the zipper and push his pants and boxers down in one move; freeing his substantial erection.
“Wait,” he mumbles against the breast he manages to free when he yanks down my shirt. In one quick move, he has my shirt up and off and I find myself sitting on the kitchen counter in just my panties. “Let’s get rid of these. Lift your ass.” He drags them down my legs, dropping them on top of my discarded shirt before dropping to his knees and pulling me right to the edge. With his thumbs, he spreads me wide open before he covers my pussy with an open mouth and I drop my head back on a groan.
“Gunnar...”
The feeling of his open mouth sliding over me, exploring every nook and crevice with his tongue, his teeth scraping over my clit—I can’t help but grab onto his hair and push his face into me while I buck under him. Not a thought in my mind, just sheer bliss forcing my mouth open in a silent scream as I explode into tiny fragments.
Before I can recover, Gunnar is on his feet, guiding his cock to my pussy before slamming home, his balls slapping my ass. This is fast
and furious, and I’m still riding the crest of my first orgasm when the second one hits and blinds me.
“Fuck me ... Sydney!” Gunnar yells as he erupts inside of me, his body shaking with his release before he covers my body with his and lays panting.
Gunnar
“So who were you talking to earlier?”
I look at Syd who’s sitting on the bed, drying her hair. After our baptism of the kitchen counter, I carried her upstairs, back into the shower, and was surprised to find myself hard and ready again. This time not quite as frantic, but slow and deep, I took her against the shower wall.
Not quite accustomed anymore to such a workout, I’m actually a little tender and can’t help but wince when I carefully adjust myself in my jeans. The little smirk on Syd’s face as she looks at me has my cock twitch in an attempt to revive itself. But I figure age wins out on this one, ‘cause the momentary enthusiasm dies down the moment Syd’s question brings my telephone conversation back.
“Chief of Police. Been beating myself up ‘cause I didn’t call immediately the first time Winslow got up in my face. I knew the bastard had a hidden agenda and there’s no doubt in my mind now, he somehow got on Graham Bull’s payroll. Could’ve avoided this fiasco if I’d gone on my initial instinct.”
“Graham Bull? That’s the owner of the new place, Soul Filets, right? Why do you think he’s behind it?”
I lean back against the dresser and watch Syd brush out her glorious hair while considering my answer. “Someone who would send a guy to sneak around and gather information is not someone who is willing to play a fair game. I already had an uneasy feeling about the fire and that’s when Winslow came on the scene. Winslow who, I might point out, has done dick-all to investigate. The aggressive way Winslow was questioning you in the hospital, then again in my office, only confirmed what I already suspected. He’s more than an overzealous cop and the only reason I can come up with that makes sense is that someone is making it worth his while to try and shut The Skipper down.”
I run my hand over my stubble while watching Syd eyeing me from under the curtain of her hair, waiting for me to continue. “First I thought the investigator might have set the fire, but after seeing his reaction both times when discussing it, I’m almost convinced he has no first-hand knowledge. No, I’m more inclined to suspect the sergeant himself.”
“Winslow? Are you serious? Did you mention that to the Chief?” Syd’s eyes are big with shock.
“I did, but very carefully. He seemed to take my suspicions seriously. Didn’t even attempt to shake my resolve.” I lightly shake my head when I realize the truth of what I’m saying. He hadn’t seemed surprised at all, nor had he asked a ton of questions. Fucking hell. It was almost like I wasn’t telling him anything new.
It’s noon by the time we get out of the house. A short phone call from my lawyer to let me know he’d heard from Cindy’s lawyer was the first delay—finally—and they were contesting the application for sole custody. Not a surprise. I knew she wasn’t gonna let things go so easily. She’s more interested in winning than in doing what’s best for the kids. She must’ve realized there is no way she’ll ever find her way back into my life or my bed. No fucking way.
Then there was my weekly call with my mom. I’d talked to her about Syd in our earlier conversations, but the moment she got wind Syd was here, she insisted on talking to her herself. Syd was beet red when she got on the phone, throwing me dirty looks for putting her in that position. I just grinned. She’s so damn cute when she gets riled up. Knowing my mom, I had no compunction over putting Syd on the spot. Mom would love her. She never took to Cindy, but Syd is so far from my high maintenance ex that she might as well be a different species.
As I thought, it didn’t take Mom more than a few minutes to have Syd smiling and relaxed, although after she says her goodbyes, she punches me square in the shoulder.
“What’s that for?” I ask, masking my face in innocence, but Syd isn’t having it.
“For putting me on the spot like that! She might’ve hated me.”
No longer able to hold back my laugh, she’s about to stomp off when I grab her arm and pull her against me, my arms around her waist preventing her escape.
“Was she mean to you? Awkward?”
Syd shakes her head no. “But she could’ve been,” she sputters.
“Babe—you honestly think that I’d let my mom have a go at you if I wasn’t absolutely sure she’d love you? I’ve told her about you and how I feel about you. I don’t think you could do any wrong.”
I notice Syd’s body has stiffened in my arms. “You told her everything?” she whispers.
“Only the things that are important. If you want to fill in details for her at some point, that’s up to you, but they’d be just that; details. They are nowhere near as important as you think they are.”
Syd drops her forehead against my chest and grabs handfuls of my shirt in her fists.
“She knows you are amazing with the kids and they adore you, she knows you’ve had loss in your life and that you stayed here for a week to recuperate after a vicious attack. But more importantly, she knows you’ve struggled through hard times and came through standing strong, and most importantly, that I love you. And my mother? That last bit is all she’s concerned about.”
Rubbing her face in my shirt, I can tell she’s crying. When she looks up, a big wet spot right in the center of my chest confirms it, as do the big, watery blue eyes regarding me. ‘Thank you,’ she mouths at me. I just kiss her pink, full lips.
“Right. Now that we’ve got that settled, I’d better get a dry shirt on before we head over to the pub to meet with the health inspector.”
Because only emergency vehicles are allowed on the wharf, except for deliveries, we have to walk from the parking lot toward the back entrance, where we find an unmarked car and a police vehicle. I look up, expecting Sergeant Winslow to be the one accompanying the health inspector, but I’m surprised to find a younger officer on the step.
“Afternoon,” Mr. Walker smiles, appearing much more comfortable now Winslow is missing.
“Walker.” I stick out my hand to shake his before turning to the cop. Might as well test the waters with this one right away. Without any hesitation, the man grabs my hand for a strong shake.
“I’m Officer Bragdon; Mike Bragdon. The Chief sent me to have a word after your business with Mr. Walker here is concluded.
Surprised there are already wheels put into motion by Chief Duffy, I merely nod before turning to unlock the door. The moment I push it open, I hear a whirring sound behind us. I look over my shoulder to see a man with a camera pointed at us, snapping pictures, not at all deterred by the presence of a police officer. “What the fuck?”
Officer Bragdon turns around and spots the cameraman and immediately walks over. I’m following closely behind while Syd and Walker stay on the step by the open back door. Unfazed, the guy locks eyes with me.
“Hi. Geoff Bailey, Portland Herald. Mr. Lucas?” he asks me, waving his press card at the officer. I don’t answer, but simply stare back, which he takes as acknowledgement before continuing. “Right. It’s come to my attention your establishment, known as The Skipper, was closed down Saturday night in the middle of the evening rush by the Health Department. Can you expand on that?”
Barely restrained anger has me keep my mouth shut, but the reporter is not deterred.
“I understand one of your employees may have been attempting to poison a patron? Is there any truth to that claim? Can we expect an investigation?” he pushes on. It’s taking everything I have to keep my hands fisted by my sides. Officer Bragdon pipes up.
“There is no such investigation and the claim was deemed false. Don’t know where you have received your information, but I can tell you if one word is printed making false allegations, I will encourage Mr. Lucas to file charges for defamation. And just so you know, he will have not only a police officer standing for him, but also the health inspector.”<
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The man seems to take that into consideration, finally nods and starts to turn away. Two steps out, he turns back and fires another question at me.
“Is it true that this same employee murdered a man only a few weeks ago and continues to be a suspect in a recent fire?” The reporter is wise in continuing to back away as he rattles off his question because by the time the final syllable falls from his mouth, I’m already in motion with my fists poised.
“Gunnar!” I hear Syd yell behind me just before Brandon grabs my arms from behind, stopping my motion.
“Don’t do it,” he hisses behind me, “it’s words ... only words.” And to the other man he barks, “You’re treading on very thin ice here, Mr. Bailey. I’d suggest you move along right now or I’ll be forced to slap a charge of public mischief or some such thing on you.”
A superior smirk on his face, the reporter points his finger at me before turning around and walking into the alley.
Syd
“Milk or sugar?” I ask the police officer, I think Bragdon is his name.
He smiles and nods, “Both, please.”
I can’t quite get my head around what just happened here. I’m still in shock, but the officer pulled Gunnar into the kitchen and shoved him down on a chair, Mr. Walker and I following behind. I made a beeline for the coffee maker, needing to have something to do with my hands.
The words from the reporter swim around in my head and as I put cups of coffee in front of everyone, I try to catch Gunnar’s eye, but he avoids looking at me. I can’t really blame him. All I’ve done since I’ve been here is create problems. It’s too much. The words he gave me this morning felt as if he was cementing my place in his life, but now I feel oddly disconnected. I’m not really surprised. The distance I feel from him is understandable when every incident involving me is damaging his livelihood. I have to get out of here.