Page 51 of Breakaway

Andilyn

The next few hours pass in a blur, but the moment I step inside the once happy home that’s now shrouded by grief, I feel the absence of Seth acutely. I’m sure when they purchased this place they had grand plans of making it their dream home, but all that’s left is the ruin of what could’ve been. I pack Hudson’s things robotically, forcing myself to detach from the reality of what I’m doing and the reason it’s necessary. His scent still clings to the clothes hanging in his closet, his toys strewn around his room haphazardly after he abandoned them mid-play. It’s like a pause button was pressed when they left here Friday morning, and it only mounts my festering anger to know that Seth was keenly aware they wouldn’t be returning, his brash decision forever altering the course of his son’s life.

Sensing the somberness of my mood, the guys leave me to work in peace. Rita busies herself by cleaning up the kitchen, tossing any food that’s likely to spoil before we can make it back out here to empty the house completely. As soon as I finish taping up a box, Colsen takes it to the truck, refusing to let me lift a thing. Briggs grabs a toolbox and starts taking apart Hudson’s bed, but we collectively decide it’s best to leave his bedding and decor, opting to purchase new stuff so he isn’t overwhelmed by his entire room being replicated elsewhere. By the time we make it back to the apartment, the sun has set, and my back is starting to ache.

“You doin’ okay?” Briggs helps me from the truck, his mouth pinched with worry as he trails his gaze over my body.

“I’m fine,” I assure him. “Just tired and stressed. I can’t wait to crash, but the pressure I feel to make sure everything’s perfect is refusing to let me stop. It’s like my character as a person—as a parental figure—is on the chopping block, and all it’d take for everything to fall apart is one person’s negative opinion of me. I barely have faith in my own ability to be a decent parent, so why should anyone else give me a chance to prove myself when the stakes are so high?” My breath rushes out of me, the doubts I’ve been struggling with pouring from my mouth against my will.

“That’s just it, Angel.” Briggs’ achingly soft words could very well be the thing that pushes me over the edge. He cups my cheek, his eyes holding mine like he has a direct line to my soul. “We see what you can’t; there’s not a single person who’s more perfect than you to raise these kids. I won’t say it’s destiny, because there’s no justification for what either of you went through, but I do believe that fate brought Hudson into your life for a reason. If there were ever something good to come from what you both endured, it’s the fact that you found each other. So, despite your own reservations, I need you to trust in us–that we’d never leave you hanging. In case you missed it, even Seth knew the four of us have no plans of disappearing. We’re not going anywhere. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not next week, or even next year.”

My fingers grip Briggs’ wrist, his thumb still stroking my cheek. I have no idea how he knows just what to say when I’m spiraling, but the effect is grounding. I’ve been self-sufficient all my life. Every memory I have, the only person I could count on was me. In hindsight, I think it’s a blessing in disguise that we can’t remember infancy. If my parents couldn’t be bothered to properly care for a kid who didn’t require much in the way of supervision, how negligent were they when I was a baby? Was I left to cry for hours on end? How long would I sit in a soiled diaper before it occurred to them that maybe they should change me? I’m fairly certain I don’t want to know the answers to any of those questions, and if for no other reason, having shitty parents only reinforces my determination to be everything they weren’t.

“Let’s get you inside,” Briggs comments, abruptly redirecting my thoughts. Glancing around, I realize Colsen and Rita are halfway up the front steps, their arms full of boxes. I grab a small tote from the backseat, the only thing I’ve been permitted to carry, and rush to catch up with the others. It’s gotten rather chilly since dusk fell, and the idea of a hot shower sounds heavenly.

“Welcome back,” Roy greets me at the door. He takes the bag I’m holding, passing it to Raiden so he can sort where it goes. “Dayton is grilling burgers on the rooftop. Would you mind checking in with him to see if he needs any help carrying everything down?”

“Of course not.” I hasten my steps, entering the guys’ apartment a few seconds later. I’m breathing heavily by the time I make it to the top of the spiral staircase, needing a moment to gather my wits as a wave of dizziness causes me to stumble.

“Butterfly,” Dayton calls out, an edge to his tone as he rushes to my side, guiding his arm around my body so he can steady me. “Why the fuck are you up here?” He glares at the empty space behind me, as if the person to blame is going to magically appear. “And where the hell is your jacket?” He doesn’t give me a chance to respond before he rips his hoodie off and shoves my arms through it. His scent still lingers beneath the hint of charcoal, a smile tilting my lips as I inhale deeply.

“I came to help you carry the food down,” I state, ignoring the other questions. He grunts in annoyance, walking towards the grill to make sure nothing is burning. I stand a few feet behind him, my lip tucked between my teeth as nerves start to bombard me. Dayton has never struggled to voice what he’s thinking, at least not with me. He’s always spoken his mind, even to the detriment of coming across as rude or overbearing. But I’ve always respected his lack of a filter, because even though his bluntness can be off-putting at times, I’ve never had to guess what’s going on inside of his head. The same can’t be said for this particular moment.

For weeks now, I’ve watched the way his body moves, becoming quite skilled at reading his mannerisms after tagging along to so many of his early morning practices with the team. Right now, he’s so closed off I couldn’t begin to speculate what he’s thinking. I’m not delusional enough to think my actions will be overlooked without so much as a conversation, but Dayton is typically the most confrontational, so his silence speaks volumes. I shift from foot to foot, debating if I should be the one to broach the subject or let him stew until he’s finally ready to voice what he’s feeling. He sighs audibly, his shoulders drooping as he begins to plate the burgers.

“I’m angry with you,” he admits quietly, keeping his back to me as he speaks. I knew this would be the likely outcome, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less to hear him say it. “But not for the reason you think. I’m pissed that you’ve been pushing yourself to join me at the ass crack of dawn. I’m livid that you’ve been sitting on a hard, cold-as-fuck metal bench for an hour and a half, twice a week. And don’t get me started on the shitty breakfasts I’ve been unknowingly feeding to a pregnant woman.” My lips part, gearing up to squash his inaccurate placement of blame, but they snap shut when he spins to face me, the intensity of his stare searing a path from the top of my head to the soles of my feet.

“Don’t you dare try to make this better by saying it’s not my fault,” he demands, his lip curled in disgust at himself, but I’m failing to see the correlation. It was my decision to keep the guys in the dark; therefore, it’s no one else’s fault if the consequences were less than preferable. However, nothing he’s describing was bothersome to me in the slightest. “It’s my responsibility to make sure you’re taken care of. That you have everything you need. So imagine my surprise when it comes to light that Briggs, of all fucking people, has been the one doing my goddamn job.” I reel back in shock, my brows scrunched in confusion as I try to decipher the meaning behind his words.

“I’m not following…” I trail off, my head tilting to the side as I watch his anger amplify, as if I’m being purposely obtuse.

“And therein lies the root of the problem, Butterfly.” His fists clench tightly as he takes slow, determined steps towards me, only stopping when there are a scarce few inches between us. “How the fuck am I supposed to feel about another man seeing to my girl’s needs, especially when I don’t have the full scope of what they are?” My eyes flare wide, surprise and a healthy dose of alarm rendering me mute. Dayton steps closer, his chest brushing mine as a wicked smirk curves his mouth. He spins his ballcap backward, the move too hot for comprehension. I push the fog of confusion from my brain, but his finger presses against my lips before I can string together a coherent sentence.

“I dare you,” he whispers darkly. “I fucking dare you to say you aren’t mine.” Dayton’s threat hangs between us, my breath growing choppy as heat builds in places that have lain dormant for far too long. “We’ve been dancing around our attraction to one another for weeks, sharing flirty comments and sidelong glances, but it’s more complex than lust. This thing between us has been building since I inserted myself into a phone conversation you were having with yet another man, demanding your time and attention. Neither of us ever had control of where this was going to lead. I’ve been losing my goddamn mind, trying to rationalize the depth of my feelings and how they grew so rapidly in such a short amount of time.”

“Want to know what conclusion I’ve come to?” His breath fans my cheek as he leans in closer, trailing the tip of his nose along my jawline. “You were made to be mine, just as I was made to be yours. So excuse me if I refuse to sit back and let some washed-up piece of shit steal the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’ve had to give up everything once already, and for good reason, but walking away from you isn’t something I can bring myself to do. So please don’t ask me to.”

There’s no time for me to wrap my mind around Dayton’s outright claiming. His mouth meets mine in a heated kiss, my lips parting on a shocked inhale, giving him the perfect opportunity to slide his tongue inside. He’s the first person I’ve been intimate with that isn’t Tobias, and the heat I’m feeling far exceeds anything I experienced during our good times. Dayton threads his fingers through my hair, tightening his hold so he can control the angle of our kiss. I’d be lying if I said my panties weren’t growing slick with my desire, the hunger he’s stoking forcing me to press my thighs together to alleviate the ache. Breaths are hard to come by, but who needs oxygen anyway? Abruptly, he severs the moment, leaving me bereft and stumbling forward, desperate to finish what we started.

“Yeah, you’re mine alright,” Dayton chuckles, satisfaction dripping from the pleased smile contorting his face. It’s on the tip of my tongue to deny his presumptuous statement, to clarify that sharing a singular kiss does not, in fact, mean I belong to him. As if he can read the stormy thoughts taking up residence inside my head, he shoves the plate of burgers into my waiting hands, then spins me towards the door. “Time to go, Butterfly.” His slap to my ass causes a squeak of indignation to escape me, my glare falling flat when he shoots me a wink. I stomp the entire way back to Raiden’s apartment, taking a moment before entering to school my features and wipe any trace of desire from my face.

I breeze through the room with an air of confidence I don’t feel, my chin tipped high, paying no mind to the tingling sensation still pulsing between my thighs. I place the plate of burgers on the kitchen counter, avoiding eye contact with everyone bustling around me as I struggle to regain control of a body that’s overrun with hormones. The last thing I want is for someone to notice the flush heating my cheeks and start asking questions I’m in no way prepared to answer. I grab some basic condiments from the fridge, determined to keep myself busy until I’m certain there are no lingering traces of Dayton’s effect on me.

“What the fuck, man?” Raiden barks, his sudden outburst causing me to jump. I spin to face the living room, trying to get a visual on what has the guys squaring off, knowing the slightest infraction can have them at each other’s throats in the span of a few seconds.

“Your ass was in my face. I asked you to move. Nicely, I might add. You refused, though your grunt can hardly be called a proper response. Either way, that’s how I chose to interpret it,” Briggs announces, not the least bit bothered to be on the receiving end of so much hostility. He double-taps the button on the drill for emphasis, continuing his task of assembling the storage cube for Hudson’s room.

“So in your fucked up brain, the appropriate reaction to me not doing what you demanded of me is to spin a power drill against my asshole?” The vein in Raiden’s forehead thumps angrily, his pointed scowl promising retribution.

“Calm down, Detective Hardass,” Briggs scoffs, waving his hand dismissively. “I barely pressed it, and you have jeans on. Maybe do what I ask next time, and I won’t have to resort to such drastic measures.”

“There’s something seriously wrong with you,” Raiden gripes, training his focus on the box of clothes he’s preparing to take next door. I hate that he’s being forced from his own home, once again, but it’s too much of a risk to have him officially living here. At least until CPS has made their decision. Once we’ve gotten them off our backs and appeased the judge that’s overseeing our case, I couldn’t care less if he moves back in. We’ll make it work.

“Yes, I’m well aware,” Briggs deadpans. “You seem to share the same sentiment as my therapist. Perhaps the two of you would like to date since you have so much in common? Or maybe just a quick fuck? Whatever floats your boat and unlodges that stick from your ass.” Raiden’s gaze cuts to mine, his jaw flexing in agitation.

Oh, those raging hormones of mine really don’t like that suggestion–either of them.

“Hear me out, Andi,” Raiden proposes, cracking his neck from side to side. “Briggs serves no purpose. He’s just a space filler, and any one of us will happily pick up the slack his…disappearance…causes. Just say the word—hell, even a twitch of your eyeball will do, and I’ll make sure he’s never found.” Briggs stiffens, and even though I know Raiden is only joking and looking to get a rise out of him, my heart lurches at the thought of Briggs actually believing he could be so easily replaced.