Love Lines- Bradley

by Falon Gold

  “I hope not,” griping under my breath. “She’s so much fucking better than him.”

  Better not tell her that, might feed the ego she had when we were kids, the ego mysteriously absent yesterday.

  In the corner of my eye, an old, rusty Honda Civic braked at the stop sign on the corner. Its right blinker flashed. Almost time to meet my son, my bowels loosened, hands shook. The plastic sacks full of toys rattled like my nerves. The car pulled into the driveway. I swiveled to face it.

  “I’m going to find you standing on my porch often, aren’t I?” Duchess joked, getting out first to rest one arm on the door, one along the roof of the car.

  At least I thought she was joking because she was grinning.

  The back doors of the Civic swung wide. The passenger side was in my direct line of vision. A brunette, pony-tailed girl slid out in a dress and flats, slamming the door shut.

  “What did my car ever do to you, Bryony?” Duchess enquired dryly.

  Aiden wasn’t the only mirror image of his father. Bryony was too, more so when she was peeved. Her tiny rosebud lips were pressed into a ‘hate you much’ line, pale-green eyes little more than thin incisions in her oval-shaped face.

  She was not happy to see me. Good thing I wasn’t here to see her, but I had bribes to get me in her good graces. One sack I brought was toys for her, the other for Aiden, who skipped around Duchess. He wasn’t shy about approaching the raised porch, where I stood looking down at him.

  Duchess began the introductions. “Aiden, this is your father, Bradley White. Bradley, Aiden.”

  One of them would call me his daddy one day.

  “Hey,” he said with a smile just. Like. Mine.

  I had to clear the damn hunk of pride making itself at home in my neck without at least putting down a deposit. “Hey. It’s really nice to meet you… two.”

  I sized up the little girl that had posted up beside Aiden. “You’re his bodyguard, I presume, Bryony?”

  Her eyes drew in tighter. There was no way she could see. “Yes, sir,” she rumbled, ready to rumble too I believed and imagined she’d beat me to death with her backpack.

  Duchess snorted, coming to join the Mexican standoff. “That’s Bryony, Kincaid’s daughter, who’s usually nicer to people she meets for the first time. Aren’t you, Bryony?”

  With her sights trained on me, Bryony uttered, “Yes ma’am.”

  “That’s what I thought. Go in the house and let Aiden and Bradley get to know one another because Aiden needs his father too.” Duchess crossed her arms and cut her eyes my way, dropping ocular hints about what would happen if I failed at my new duties—my ass would be in a sling.

  Bryony climbed the stairs. When she had to move past me to get to the front door, I blocked her path with the sack of girl toys.

  “You should take this with you.”

  She paused to evil-eye the toys or the prosthetic. I couldn’t be sure.

  “What’s that?” she grumped.

  “A tiara, dress up princess shoes—”

  “Thanks.” She reached for the bag and entered the house faster than some alcoholics threw back a shot of tequila.

  The door slammed behind her. I snickered.

  Snickers puffed out of Duchess’ mouth as well. “Well, you’re half way to her good side. Now, for the other one.” The one that mattered the most; Aiden. “Aiden—”

  “I got it, mommy,” he interjected, raising his arms up.

  I might’ve seemed too eager to grab him up and set him on my hip but didn’t care. The lump in my throat was nothing compared to the pockets of emotions developing in my chest unsolicited. Face to face finally with my greatest success, I sniffled, hadn’t almost cried since my mother died twice.

  First, she left me behind with an abusive son of a bitch who’d have kicked my ass for tearing up let alone shedding a tear. Holding this wisp of a boy broke me down like a chump. He was the best part of me, he was love.

  “So, you’re my pops.” Aiden was so blasé about meeting his father it was hilarious.

  “If you want to put it mildly, yes, I am, son.” I intended to be way more; his confidant, his rock, everything in between. All the things stolen from me by my father when he sent my mother away under guarantee of death if she set foot in Laramie again or tried to contact me.

  “Bryony’s gonna love what you bought her,” he mentioned.

  I held up the other sack. “What about you? You didn’t think I left you out, did you?” Was I trying to buy his love, make up for gifts he hadn’t gotten, and more importantly, prove I could be a good provider? Damn skippy.

  Shrugging, he took the bag. “A girl needs that stuff.”

  “Aiden worries about others more than himself,” Duchess apprised me from below us.

  I laid my right hand on his chest, left gripping his hip. “That’s because he has a good heart like his mother.”

  “What about your heart, Pops?”

  The handles of the bag rolled down his coat sleeve as he shoved his tiny hand between the unzipped ends of my coat. His palm sank down in the center of my chest, fingers sandwiched by my pecs. His matching set of grey orbs drilled into mine, establishing eye contact so powerful most hardened soldiers would look away. He was searching for something—weaknesses. I bet he knew what signs to look for too, wasn’t as cool about our meeting as he seemed.

  “Here we go,” Duchess moaned. “You’re in for the third degree now, Bradley. Aiden thinks he has to be the man of the house and vet everyone.”

  “Grandma said I had to,” Aiden clarified with a grin missing two front teeth.

  Too cute.

  “That means my son’s already a man.” I feigned a huff. “I guess I’m not really needed then, but we can get started with the vetting my heart anyway.” It was his right after being fatherless so long.

  Duchess began scaling the stairs, giving us her gravest stare. “Well, as you two should know, being big, strong men and all, the vetting process can be draining and probably take all day when conducted by a five-year-old. Maybe, we should start with a snack before dinner. You two might not be hungry, but—”

  “I am!” Aiden yelled, damaging an eardrum—mine.

  I flinched.

  Duchess gasped. “You stole what I was going to say, Aiden.” She tickled him for his offense.

  “I’m hungry too!” Bryony hollered through the door in the midst of his wild laughter tugging at the beating block in my chest.

  My kid was happy. Bryony was more like hangry.

  Not much taller than Delilah, Duchess smirked at me. “Get used to the yelling. They do it at least ten times a day. Come in, you two.” She escorted us inside.

  Wearing the tiara and princess dress up-heels, Bryony, even now giving me the evil-eye, had one foot crossed over the other as she leaned against the nearest chair. Her arms were folded along the side of a faded green loveseat with its back to the door and made on a similar, simpler style to but clearly older than Delilah’s. Duchess’ furniture were likely real antiques with claw feet and worth some serious coins, worth more as a part of the memories made with her mother.

  Are you going to compare everything to Delilah?

  Shit, I was doing that, wasn’t I?

  She’d made a bigger impression on me than I thought.

  Duchess opened the fridge, bending over to peek inside. “What are we eating today?” she mumbled to herself but got three different answers overlapping each other—me steak, Aiden pizza, Bryony chocolate chip cookies.

  Duchess glanced around her shoulder. “Those are weekend treats when I’ve gotten paid. You know that, kids, but we also know I’ve gotten laid off, so your choices are going to be…”

  With Bryony trailing behind me, I set Aiden on the island installed not so much in the center of the kitchen but closer to the back wall with wilting cabinetry and sinks. A bay window overlooked the backyard.

  Pulling out a check from my back pocket, I walked it over to Duchess. “It’s not much
but should help until you find another job and with a few pizzas and cookies. I can get my own steak at least.”

  She straightened up to take the slip of paper, glimpsed at the amount and began choking. “Ho…” Coughed. “…ly.” Coughed some more. “Fuck!” Looked up at me wide-eyed.

  “Curse word!” Bryony and Aiden chanted.

  “I don’t know, kids,” I hedged, “I think there were two curse words in there. If you need more money soon, Duchess, let me know.” I retraced my steps back to Aiden, wanting to be in his overwhelming presence.

  “Bradley, this is fifty thousand dollars!” she yelped.

  “I know.” I scooted Aiden up in my arms. “Is it enough for a few months and to do some of the things you need to do?” Hell, even I knew kids were expensive let alone the bills. Groceries. Therapy.

  “A-a few months?” she stuttered. “Most people don’t get this in five years for child support.”

  I smirked. “Most people don’t have a son by me either.” Or lose a body part for the government, who attempted to compensate for the loss well. Never being completely flesh and blood again meant Aiden would be taken care of until he graduated college. Losing a piece of me suddenly seemed worth it, spoiling him my only purpose.

  Duchess closed the fridge back. “Well, steak, pizza and cookies it is then. We’re ordering in.”

  Aiden’s thrill nearly damaged the eardrum he hadn’t gotten to previously. Bryony’s joy ravaged what remained of the working section of my auditory system.

  Duchess pointed a finger at them both. “Don’t get used to this, kids. Treats aren’t the same if you have them every day… or even twice a week.”

  She slung bouncy, jet-black curls behind her shoulders. Her hair color was the only physical trait my son got from her, but he certainly had her heart.

  A grinning Aiden peered up at me from his seat on the countertop. “Wanna go play?”

  “Sure, son.” I soon found out ‘play’ meant following the kids into the backyard where we portrayed imaginary characters and I got grilled about everything under the sun until the food and Kincaid arrived forty minutes later.

  I thought the vetting process was over and had one kid to answer to, I was mistaken. It was cute how they consulted each other with their heads together, whispering loud enough for the deaf to hear before one of them restarted the interrogation. Explaining why one hand was not like the other was complicated. I worked it out by thinking ahead and talking slowly.

  I did something right because the kids didn’t gag at any point. Duchess wouldn’t have loved me mentioning dirty bombs, waking up in the explosion’s aftermath surrounded by my men’s body parts, missing a limb myself, and discovering the reason to make the best of life. It was short and could be taken away at any time. I no longer griped about sitting in the middle of vehicles.

  The bitch seat saved me from most of the bomb’s blast. When survivor’s remorse wasn’t whooping my ass with no hands, I was grateful for being alive and the steak and loaded baked potatoes that went down smoothly in between Aiden’s and Bryony’s unrelenting inquisition over dinner. He announced that they had one last matter to put to me at the kitchen table.

  “Is your middle name is?”

  I didn’t have a middle name, but played along anyway. “Bradley. Is. White. Seriously! Where do these kids come up with this shhhh-yeah stuff?”

  Bryony and Aiden giggled at my almost slip. Kincaid snorted beer out his nose. Shoulders shaking, Duchess shook her head, handing him a paper towel. This was what a loving family was. Conversing around the heavily-scratched dinner table in mixed-matched chairs. Relaxing and laughing together and helping the other clean their nose when they exhaled a drink while winding down. Putting someone on the hot seat. Making the new guy the butt of their jokes while he laughed along too.

  It wasn’t perfect. It was imperfectly perfect and when it was Aiden’s bedtime, I didn’t want to leave the vibrant atmosphere filled to the brim with love and affections given freely along with understanding. Who’d willingly unlink from the effortless bond they had after including me in so easily?

  I didn’t want to wear out my welcome though, so I geared up to leave. At Aiden’s request, my hands tucked him in. My idea to embrace him tight and kiss him on the forehead goodnight with Duchess and Kincaid observing from the doorway. “I love you, son.”

  “Love you too, Pops,” he yapped, bouncing on the bed and eyeballing the unopened new game system resting on the top of his television in the corner of the room.

  His race car pajamas blended right in with his bedroom’s blue and red race car theme. I hadn’t expected him to return the sentiment so quickly. Just being able to say it to him was good enough. The physical lumps and pockets of emotional overload came back full force.

  Chapter Seven

  ~Bradley~

  My chest ached in the best way. With something in my eye and throat, I whirled on my boot heels to vacate. Bryony sat up on her pallet of blankets on Aiden’s floor, astonishing the hell out of me when she shyly asked for a hug from me too.

  She had her own room but preferred Aiden’s. This house had enough bedrooms for everyone to have their own space. Aiden’s television was totally a factor in why Bryony was camping out in his room, but anyone could see she idolized him, loved him unreservedly, and her protective streak a mile wide.

  I went back and squatted down to give her the same hug as I had Aiden. She laid down with a grin stretching from ear to ear. I believed I was a threat to her for Aiden’s love. Luckily, that was over—her evil-eye cut deep like an adult’s.

  While putting on my jacket downstairs, Duchess and Kincaid accompanied me to the porch.

  Blinking rapidly, she clasped both my hands in hers and whispered throatily, “Thank you for everything. Come back tomorrow.” There was something in her eye and throat too.

  “You’re welcome and I will,” I managed without losing it. Her gratitude and acceptance was everything.

  When she backed off, Kincaid stepped up to clasp my cybernetic hand firmly. The organic material didn’t tingle for them like it had Delilah, and it still threw me off when someone was willing to touch it. It was plain weird when I was used to people’s wary glances. Some tried pretending the prosthetic wasn’t there, and failed. The people in this neighborhood were something other though.

  “You didn’t have to include Bryony in your relationship with Aiden, man,” Kincaid said. “Thanks for making her day and night.”

  His appreciation evoked a stupid smile on my face. “I did have to include her. She’s part of my son’s life, but don’t go thinking I’ll be buying you tiaras and dress-up shoes too.”

  Kincaid sniggered. “Please don’t.”

  His humor infected Duchess and me. “Have a good one, guys. See you tomorrow.” When I backed up, Duchess stepped outside, trying to close the door behind us.

  Kincaid’s hand was in the way. “I want to hear the gossip too, Duchess.” What gossip? Duchess shot him a ‘if you don’t go back in, your balls will be blue for a very long time’ face. That could’ve just been my interpretation, but it must’ve been right because Kincaid threw his hands up, relenting. “Fine, but I want the details, or it’s no nookie for you for a… day.”

  “Yeah, that’s telling her, Kincaid.” I ribbed.

  He leaned out the doorway. “Don’t give me shit, Bradley. I will sick Bryony on you.”

  I threw my hands up. “I come in peace. The kid looks like she totes a mean backpack.”

  Howling with laughter, he shut the door, could’ve easily threatened me with himself. He was about my size with the need to protect his family on his side. Protecting made many fierce and had taken down the toughest of soldiers.

  Arms snaking around her torso because it was as cold outside as a bare ass sitting on an ice block, Duchess got right up in my personal space, murmuring, “How is Delilah?”

  That was the last thing I thought would come out of her mouth. “What? Why are you ask—”
<
br />   She threw me a ‘don’t fuck with me’ glare. “Don’t give me shit either, Bradley. I know you defended her with Rafe last night, I know you hung around afterwards. She doesn’t ever skip the walk to and from school because that’s when she brags about her great life. I always knew it was far from what she wanted it to seem like to us. Everyone’s talking about what happened last night. I may have jumped down her throat yesterday morning about her ‘I’m better than you’ attitude. Then, Laralie and Samantha followed behind me. Now, Delilah’s avoiding us, won’t answer her phone when we call, and her family’s a bunch of bullies. We’re worried about her, but don’t want to crowd her. Sometimes, people need space.”

  Like I did right now. “I don’t know how she’s doing since last night, haven’t seen or talk to her.” Now, I was apprehensive about Delilah isolating herself. Thanks for that, Duchess, as if I didn’t have enough to worry about. “I’ll go check on her.”

  Duchess’ concern faded into a tilt of her head and mouth dropping open in sappy ‘ah’ fashion. “Thank you so much for checking on her, and I think she’d love your company. We certainly did tonight.”

  Her eyes were wide with a hint of… something in them.

  I took a wild stab at what that was. “I didn’t say I’d carry bones back and forth between you and Delilah, I said I’d check on her.” I was not the one for gossip.

  Whatever she was trying to tell me without telling me evaporated from her expression. She nodded. “If she’s fine, I’m good. If she’s not, don’t leave her alone and let me know. Solitude makes people think and do bad shit.”

  My stint as fifth-sixths of a man in a strange country with no one to lean on was pretty much solitude at its finest. “Don’t I know it. Deal.”

  “Thanks.” She reached out, squeezing my arm then pivoted to go inside, uttering under her breath, “Who knew I’d be thanking Bradley and ask so much of him in one day?”

  Glad that she could thank and ask me for something, I chuckled quietly. Kincaid swung the door open, expecting bones. He was a gossip too. I turned to go out into the cold literally and figuratively after being a part of their warm inner circle. In the empty, lonely trailer on the other side of town was the last place I wanted to be and I wouldn’t be there since Delilah might need a listening ear or shoulder to cry on.