Page 42 of Smitty

The guy was being protective of his woman.

I couldn’t fault him for that. He hadn't done a thing wrong. As far as I knew, his only crime was loving Brooke. The realization got to me more than I wanted to admit.

Seeing the concern in his eyes, Brooke looked up at him and said, “I’m fine. We were just talking.”

“I’m Ryan,” he said, offering his hand to me.

I stared at it a moment, and even though it was hard, I took it. His grip was firm, just like mine. Neither of us was trying to prove anything. We were just trying to figure each other out. I gave him a quick nod. “I’m Brayden. Good to meet ya.”

“Same.” He nodded once before looking back at Brooke. “You sure everything is okay?”

“Yeah, we’re good.” She reached up and gave the little girl a tickle. “I won’t be much longer.”

“Okay.” He glanced back at me as he announced, “I’ll be inside if you need me.”

She kissed the top of the little girl’s head, and my chest tightened so hard I could barely breathe. She made it look so natural, like breathing. A soft smile crossed her face as she watched him turn and head back to the house.

She’d always wanted this.

A family. A home. Someone to love.

I’d always known she’d have it.

I’d just always hoped it would be with me.

I looked back at Ryan and the little girl, watching as they stopped just inside the screen door. He wasn’t listening. He wasn’t even trying to. He was waiting, just like Brooke asked him to.

Because he trusted her, and I envied him for that more than I cared to admit. My attention drifted back to the little girl. She was leaning into Ryan, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he was her father. She was watching me and her mother, completely unaware that my whole damn world had just tipped sideways.

“How old is she?”

“Almost nineteen months.”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. I’d already done the math. It wasn’t hard. There was no way I could forget the last time we were together. It wasn’t quite three years ago. Not long after, the calls came even less often, and it just seemed harder and harder to work out a weekend to see each other. Soon I stopped asking, and the silence settled in.

It wasn’t just her.

My pride and overall mental state had a part to play in it. I’d always known she deserved better. I was a kid with no real home, no family, and if that wasn’t enough, I was responsible for my own brother’s death.

She always said none of that mattered, that she knew I was a good man, but I knew she was wrong and I’d grown tired of trying to prove otherwise.

So, when the calls stopped coming, I didn’t fight the silence.

I leaned into it.

That’s why I did what I did.

Yeah, I wasn’t innocent in all this. I had my own part to play in it, one that ultimately ended up being the best thing that ever happened to me. That didn’t mean I stopped caring about her. It didn’t mean I stopped loving her. Hell, even after all this time, I still loved her.

It didn’t matter now. The damage was done. She’d moved on. There was no changing that. But I still had to know, “Is she mine?”

“Bray…”

Her eyes filled with tears when I pushed, “Just tell me.”

“Yes. She’s yours.”

It was true.