She gives me a half smile and we sit here in the quiet of the hallway. I'm going to hate myself after this, I already do. "I need you to do me a favor."
"Sure, Preston. What is it?" I can see from my peripheral vision. She looks over at me, but I continue to stare straight ahead.
"I need you to take care of Kinzleigh and Bryce for a couple of days. I love her, and under normal circumstances I'm sure she'd be a great mother, but I don't think she's capable of caring for him right now. I would never forgive myself if I left and something happened to either of them, but especially him, knowing she isn't well. There's someone I have to go see, and I prefer to do it alone." Call it being a caveman, an alpha, an asshole, whatever you want, but I will not give her to him unless I know they are both taken care of, financially and emotionally.
"Hey, you know you guys are like family to me. I would do anything for y'all. I really hate that things can't work out for you. Love triangles should have never been made into existence. Someone is always on the losing end." For what it's worth, she actually looks like she's stuck in the middle of the battlefield, not knowing which side to pull for.
"Someone always gets the girl though, right? That's all that matters. Otherwise, this would all be for nothing." I stand. I might as well get this over with. I have to pack a bag and a flight to book. "I'll leave you everything you need."
I begin walking back to the bedroom, but stop at the door. I don't look back as I speak. "Macie, I don't know your story and I probably never will, but I am pretty good at reading people. I just have one question. Does the pain in your chest of losing someone you love ever go away?"
"Never," she responds in more of a whisper behind me.
"I didn't think so." That spot in my chest that holds the one organ I can't live without according to science, just flat lined.
Breyson
"Son of a bitch!" I scream and throw the phone through the parking lot as far as it will fly. I can feel the rage starting to build in my core. It's heating and spreading throughout my body like a fire, consuming my oxygen. I haven't felt this kind of anger in a really long time. I need to get out of here and away from people. What kind of sorry ass man won't let me talk to her? We have a fucking child together. There should be some kind of mutual respect there.
I fucking hate his guts. I want to kill him. I want to rip his heart from his chest just as he has mine.
There's only one place I can go when I get like this, one place that has always allowed me to blow off steam when I'm at the point of no return with my anger. I begin jogging. I can get there by foot. Actually, I prefer this method to a vehicle. I have to burn off some of this rage and the only way to do so is to work it off.
I put one foot in front of the other, my pace increasing from a sprint to a full out run. With each thought that invades my mind I push harder, drive myself faster. I'm starting to sweat, soaking my fitted gray shirt. It's weighing me down like the memories in my mind. I need to unload. The heat in August and September are no different than July in the south.
Reaching for the bottom hem of my tee shirt, I pull it up my torso and over my body. I tuck one end of it under the waistband of my jeans and continue running along the side of the highway. My feet are digging into the grass with each stride. Coach used to make us do this when training for a new season. It's a long stretch, but my subdivision and high school are straight ahead. He thought if we got used to running a long distance of grass, then the distance of the football field would come easily. He was one of those coaches that were more into strength and endurance training than size.
As if I'm not angry enough, the last time we were together begins to play in my mind. What I wouldn't give to touch her one more time, to feel her, and to make love to her. I swear, if I ever get the chance I will make it last. I would imprint every detail of her to memory as if it were my only chance. Every inch of her body will always be burned into my mind. One look into those green eyes and my heart is reconciled with its owner. One touch and my soul returns home; the only place it belongs.
I can see my subdivision entrance come into view. I'm burning up and I am short of breath from the distance I've just run. I've made it this far. I can't stop now. The sooner I get there, the sooner I can release some of this anger that I'm housing. I'm livid. The way I feel right now is unexplainable to any other human being unless he's been there.
Loving someone in every form possible, but not being able to hold her, kiss her, and make love to her is excruciating. Knowing you have a son but can't hold him anytime you want could possibly drive someone to commit murder. It is beyond me how anyone could just forget they have a child as she expects me to do, because I just found out about mine and already he consumes my world.
I close my eyes, trying to shake off the thoughts and photos that are lurking in every facet of my mind. Her body always did do things to me that no other girl's did. Kinzleigh is the type of girl that destroys you for better or for worse. I wanted her yesterday, I want her today, and I sure as hell will want her tomorrow. Her presence and absence will forever wreak havoc on my heart in unison.
I can see my pool house from where I stand. I turn, leaving the street for my driveway. I’m almost there. Looking under the doormat, I unlock the door with the spare key. I turn the knob, barging through the door. I don’t even remove the key from the lock. I stop abruptly, placing my hands on my knees in an attempt to catch my breath. My abs tighten with each breath exhaled. I look around the room, scanning for what I'm looking for. When I find it, I stand and walk in that direction, picking up the wraps on my way. I extend my neck in each direction, loosening it, until I hear the pop I'm waiting for. I wrap both hands, because the way I'm feeling right now I'm going to need it.
Once my knuckles are completely wrapped, I swing my arms, stretching my shoulder joints. I inhale deeply, letting the rage fully consume my body, drowning all conscious thought, except for one. I need to make someone pay for the shitstorm that is going on in my head. I allow my mind to go to the one place no normal man would go. I formulate the image of him touching her, putting his lips on her body, and experiencing her in a way that was only meant for me, taking what's mine as his own. Like a chain it binds me, but also sets me free.
I swing, my fist making contact with the bag. Like a drug, I begin to feel the high. Pulling back, I drive it again, climbing the high. I need more, so I begin swinging with both arms, one after the other, and as hard as I can. My arms burn, but I don't let that stop me. Instead, I picture the bag being Preston and I get a second wind. I scream out in rage. When I close my jaw, I bite down on the inside of my cheek. I can taste blood, but I don't stop. Instead, I let it pool.
I can no longer feel my arms. They feel foreign on my body, dead weight. I still have my legs. I make the switch to the lower half of my body. Dad made us take MMA classes when we were younger. The movements are now like a reflex. I channel the anger to steer them, making them effective, swift, and right on target. Blood is draining from the corner of my mouth as it fills.
Tears begin to exude from the ducts, trying to rid my body of some of the rage that is poisoning me. I get deja vu as a set of hands enclose around my biceps, squeezing. One command is all I hear. "Breyson, stop."
Braxton.
I fall into the bag, hugging it, and heaving. I cry from the rage flowing through my veins. Before I got on that plane anger was the only time I ever shed a tear, and that was rare. I was in this frame of mind last time because of her, and I'm here now because of her. I've never let Braxton see me cry. I don't have enough energy left to be embarrassed. He clutches the back of my neck in one hand, pulling me backwards. "I got you, bro. I got you," he repeats.
When I turn around, he envelops me in a hug. It's a little awkward, but nothing aside from brotherly. My arms remain by my side, and I lightly punch his sides. It's all I have left. Everything else has dissipated, leaving me drained. "I need her. I fucking need her, and she won't talk to me. I want to see my son. This is not
how I wanted this to go. He's just as much mine as he is hers. I have a right to see him!" I scream out.
He squeezes the back of my neck hard. With his opposite hand over my shoulder, he pushes me backward, creating a space between us. He's looking at me, man to man, and he appears mad. He lightly smacks me on the cheek. "I said I got you. Do you think I'm going to let someone keep a member of our family away from us? Hell no. Whether it's her keeping him away or Preston, it won't last long. You know how we are about family. Fight or die trying, right? Nothing and no one stands in the way."
I close my eyes and nod, acknowledging everything he says. I begin clenching my fist, itching to go at it again, but refuse. I need to cool off. I need to get some sleep, because come tomorrow I'm going to see my attorney about that damn money in question. "Is Mom good?"
He nods. "She's sleeping. What you need from me?"
"I need to be alone right now, but I do need you to do something for me." I begin unwrapping my hands, waiting on him to commit.
"Anything. You know that."
"Will you go to Pops' house? I need you to break the news without giving him a heart attack. I haven't had a good track record so far with confronting people of my return. I need him with me tomorrow. I don't know what I'm doing, and I have one chance to try and not fuck this up." I look up at him as I finish asking the question.
He lets go of me and begins backing away. "You know I'd do anything you need me to. You're my brother. Consider it done. I’ll stop by when I head out for school. I just have to pack my bag." I stand here watching him. I nod. He turns and opens the door, stepping outside, and leaving me with my thoughts once again. Me, deep in my thoughts inside my head, is never a good thing these days.
My body is covered with a sheen of sweat, reminding me of the lapse in mental stability I had. I walk over to the doors that lead into our pool house. I can see the pool through the glass. The sun is starting to set, but the radiance against the water is inviting. I think I might. Opening the door, I can feel the Mississippi heat baking my skin. I reach down and pop the button of my jeans through the slit and slide down the zipper. I hook my thumbs under the waistband and pull them down until they drop to my feet. I step out, remaining in nothing but my boxers.
I walk to the edge of the deep end and dive in, breaking through the cool, still water. I come back up through the surface, instantly cooling a few degrees as the water envelops me. Without thought, I swim to the right corner of the deep end, grabbing the concrete edge in my hands. It wasn't planned, but sure enough as I stare at the two sides meeting in this very corner, I'm reminded of the night at Ryland's pool house; the night I had her in a corner matching this one, wrapped around my waist, as I enjoyed the feel of her wet body against mine, sucking the droplets of water from her full lips.
I close my eyes. I refuse to become angry again. That isn't going to change the outcome of anything. Instead, I'm going to live through my memories for a little while and enjoy them. I'd rather have them than to go back to the time in which I didn't. If this ends badly, losing her physically is something I'll have to live with, but I don't want to go another day where I can't remember the love that we experienced. At least the memories are mine and no one else's.
If I concentrate hard enough, I can almost see the blushing of her cheeks and feel her breath against my lips. I remember the way her shirt clung to her breasts, showing the outline, but nothing more. I almost lost it like a damn virgin getting his first piece of action when she pressed herself against me. That one week was the best week of my life, because I met the girl that forever changed me. Blonde hair and green eyes never looked so good until I laid my eyes on Kinzleigh Baker.
I shake my head to clear the thoughts. I'm going to bed. The sooner I go to sleep, the sooner I wake up and start climbing out of this nightmare. Placing my hands flat on the concrete, I hoist myself up until my body is free from the water. This whole situation is bullshit anyway.
I walk towards the pool house, grabbing my jeans on the way. I don't feel like sleeping in my room tonight. After seeing Mom in it earlier the way she was, I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to again. I don't intend on living here much longer anyway. My brothers and I always kept spare clothes in there for when we came in late.
I open the door and a burst of air hits me, causing chill bumps to emerge. I shut the door behind me, and sprint in the direction of the bathroom. I'm now freezing. I quickly step in the shower and stand under the hot water until I warm up. I'm mentally exhausted from today's events; so much so, that I don't feel like standing here. I soap up my washcloth and hurriedly lather my body. It takes ten minutes tops before I'm getting out and drying off.
As I rub the towel over my hair ridding of the excess moisture, the smell of my soap lingers, settling in my nostrils as I inhale. I've missed the smells of home. It's weird how associated smells are linked with memory and familiarity. My eyes are starting to get heavy. I wrap the towel around my waist after finishing the process of absorbing the water from my body.
When I get to the dresser that sits across from the bed, I remove a pair of boxer-briefs and pull them on, discarding the towel in the process. Three strides are what it takes and I'm falling face first onto the bed. I barely have time to get beneath the covers before my eyes are closing, dragging me into a realm that is currently better than my reality, a world where I have her...again.
***
A banging sound occurs, waking me up. Shit, I feel like I've been hit by a truck. I rub the heels of my hands over my eyes, trying to focus. Looking over at the nightstand I can see green digital numbers, but it takes a few seconds before I can make them out: 3AM. Who in the hell would be here at this time? It gets louder with every second that passes.
"Hold on a second," I holler out, aggravated.
Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I stand and quickly grab a pair of sweatpants from the dresser, along with a white tee shirt. The loud banging continues.
"I'm coming, fuck!" When I get to the door and open it, I wasn't expecting what was standing on the other side. Preston.
"What the hell are you doing here?" After the day I've had, I'd love nothing more than to knock him out. He's standing with his hands in the pockets of his jeans and I'm suddenly aware of this situation. I begin looking around for her.
"She's not here." His voice comes out a little short. I look at him face to face now that I'm fully awake. He kind of looks like shit. His hair is messy, and sticking out as if he's had his fingers through it a million times.
"Where is she? Is she okay?" I'm starting to get a little panicked. I don't know why else he would be here if something wasn't wrong.
"She's not hurt..." He never said she was fine or well, just not hurt. I don't know how I should take that. It could mean a variety of things, with her or Bryce.
Why is he here then? He's got the one thing we both want. Come to think of it...
I take a step forward, invading his personal space. "I really should beat the shit out of you right now. You have a lot of nerve showing up here, at my house. You've taken enough from me...don't you think? You had your chance with her for years, but you just had to wait until I got her, didn’t you?"
He doesn't back down. He actually looks a little bored. "Are you going to keep up the Rambo act, or do you actually want to get down to business? We can take this outside and fight it out, but I have something I need to discuss in regards to something we both want, but only one can have. If you want her, I suggest you listen to what I have to say."
"You're here about Kinzleigh?"
"Yes, but there are a few matters at hand that need to be laid out on the table if you want me to hand her over to you, because I won't until they are."
My heart halts at the words that just came from his mouth. I feel like someone has raped me of my oxygen. I work hard to catch my breath. There has to be a catch, or either I'm dreaming one. It's hard for me to believe he's just going to give her away without putting up a fight. "What's the
catch?"
He exhales as if he's at the end of his rope and ready to let go. "Breyson, there is no fucking catch. When are you going to realize it's not about you or me, but about her? Do you think I want to be here, doing this? Did it ever occur to you that maybe someone else could love her the way you love her? Fuck, are we going to do this or not? Let your bad boy image rest for a while, because I'm grown and getting too old for high school shit."
Without another word I open the door the rest of the way and step aside. I guess I never really looked at it that way before. I know someone else could love her. I just never wanted them to.
I nod for him to come inside. "Yeah, sure, Preston. Come on in. I guess we're going to have to do this at some point."
He walks inside and I close the door. This is going to end badly for someone. I guess it's time for one of us to surrender, because one of us will lose regardless. You can’t fight the inevitable.
If he's comparing the way he loves her to the way I love her, then one of us is in for a long road of misery...
Chapter 3
Preston
I stand inside the room wondering why the hell I'm about to do this, but then I remember the way she looked when I came home from work yesterday. I have no choice. She loved him intimately before she did me. I found out the hard way that timing really is everything. I missed my chance by a week last summer and I'll pay for it for the rest of my life.
I've lost her emotionally since his return. The state she's in right now isn't good for anyone, so here I am, feeling like I'm facing my own death.
If you love someone, set her free...
Placing my hands on the back of the sofa, I lean forward slightly, letting my head fall. My heart is beating unsteadily. What I'm about to do cannot be undone. My chest is aching uncontrollably. I've never experienced anything like this in my entire life. This will annihilate me. I just want to make sure he's going to treat her like the amazing woman that she is. I need to know she will never go without. I need to know he's going to love her and only her every damn second of every day for the rest of her life. Then, and only then, can I let her go.
Lasting Fate Page 5