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“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Denton grabs Zack by his shirt, shoving him against a wall. But Zack is no pushover, he slams Denton in the chest, and he staggers back but only for a second. That is when he throws the first fist to Zack’s face.
This is escalating pretty quickly. Zack recovers quickly, and his fist connects with Denton’s cheek. The barman thankfully gets in the middle of the two before the next punch is thrown.
“You fucking him?” Denton glares at me.
“Denton, just stop. Whether I am or not is none of your business,” I yell.
“Yeah? Is that why you let me fuck you last night, so you can run back to your new boyfriend?”
“He isn’t my boyfriend. Fuck!”
He shoves Zack one more time and leaves the bar.
“You need to make better choices, Brianna,” Zack shakes his head.
I know I do, but for some reason I can’t.
18
Bre
Iawake to the incessant ringing of my doorbell. Opening my eyes, I yawn and sit up in the bed. I look at the digital clock, and it’s two in the morning. “What the hell?”
Climbing out of bed, I stroll to the front door. If they can disturb me at this time, they can wait.
I look through the peephole and groan. “God, no,” I tap my head against the door a few times before I open it.
He stands there, completely disheveled, eyes red-rimmed.
“Rough night?” I lean against the doorframe. “You've been drinking?”
He shakes his head, walking into my apartment when I step aside. He sits on one of the stools at the island, head bent. My heart hurts for him as angry as I am at him for the way he behaved toward Zack at the bar.
“Denton, you can’t just show up here at odd hours.”
“I was working late,” he says, not even looking up at me. He sniffs, and I realize he’s crying.
“I fuck everything up, with you, with Savanna, Justin, and I’m gonna fuck things up with Ty.”
“Denton,” I take his face in my hands, lifting his head until he’s looking at me in the eye. “We all fuck up sometimes. You and I more than most, but you can change that with your kids. You’re a great father. You always have been.”
He reaches for my hips and pulls me close. His one hand traces my belly. “Would I have been a good father to our baby?”
The familiar ache returns. It’s been a while since I thought aboutourbaby.
He kisses my chest.
“Denton, you need to go home,” I whisper. “You need to sleep, and we can talk again in the morning.”
This is not us. We’re lust, desire, and need. We don’t talk about lost babies and what could have been. “Those boys need you,” I say, stepping away. How is it that I’m standing in the same room, with the man I have loved for most of my life, and I feel like we’re oceans apart? I can reach out and touch him, but I can’t.
He stands, towering over me. He places a kiss on my forehead and walks away. He looks back at me once, and I wonder if he wants me to ask him to stay. A part of me does.
When he closes the door behind him, I curl up on the couch. There is no way I’ll be able to sleep now.
“Brianna?” his voice is cautious when I answer the phone, balancing it between my ear and shoulder, my fingers stilling on the keys.
“Hey Justin, is everything okay?”
