Kristen Ashley - Wild Man

“Cells?” I asked cautiously.

“Found out durin’ our talk that Olivia bought them both cells yesterday, said they were New Year’s sales treats. What it was was preparation for a middle of the night stealth attack.”

I bit my lip and nodded.

Then, still cautious, I queried, “Um… why didn’t she call the cops?”

“Said if it wasn’t an intruder, she didn’t want to look like an idiot or waste their time.”

Hmm. Seems she didn’t mind wasting Brock’s time. Or waking him up. Or Joel for that matter.

Again cautious, I asked, “Did she honestly think you were going to get up in the middle of the night, go to her house and check?”

He gave me a look. That look told me exactly how Olivia had made Brock’s life miserable in the years they were divorced but she was not married to Dade.

I decided to stop asking questions.

Brock opened Joel’s new phone, hit some buttons which I suspected powered it down, closed it, opened his nightstand drawer, dropped it in with a clatter then shoved the drawer closed so violently, his lamp wobbled on top.

Oh man.

“Honey,” I whispered.

“I got it in check, babe,” he rumbled and I shut up because he did but I could tell only barely.

Joel came back and the instant he hit the room, the atmosphere changed though it only became non-abrasive. The spark and flash of electricity still filled the air. He gave his Dad his brother’s phone, Brock did a repeat of the power down, drawer thing but without the lamp wobble and Joel watched him do it.

Then his eyes lifted to his father’s.

“Dad –”

“Benefit of the doubt, Joey,” Brock cut him off to say. “Yeah?”

I didn’t get this but Joel did because he nodded. Then he shuffled his feet and his eyes moved to glue themselves to the cell in his father’s hand.

It came to me in that moment that I should have asked my drowsy bad boy about the important talk he had with his sons rather than jumped his bones.

Alas, I did not.

Very long seconds ticked by in silence then I broke it with, “Joey, honey, you want me to make you some hot cocoa?”

Joel tore his eyes from his father’s phone and looked at me.

“No, thanks, Tess,” he mumbled.

“You want to come over here and sit down with me?” I asked.

“I…” he hesitated, looked to his Dad then walked over to me and sat down but not close.

I pulled in a light breath and looked to Brock and saw his eyes on his son and his jaw so hard, a muscle was jumping in his cheek.

Then he started pacing.

I got up, went to the bathroom and belatedly took out contacts that had been in way too long. Then I left the bathroom and grabbed one of his flannels, pulling it on to cover my nightie thinking I might need either to break my vow not to go to the mall or hit a computer to buy a robe to leave at Brock’s since the only one I owned at home was warm, fluffy, I’d had it since before Damian and therefore it was ratty-assed.

I needed a Brock’s Place Robe.

Then I dashed downstairs, dug my glasses out of my purse, slid them on my nose, ran back upstairs and sat down on the bed closer to Joel than he sat by me and I let out a silent sigh when he didn’t move away.

Then we waited for a decade (slight exaggeration) while Brock paced or, more aptly, prowled the room, his pissed off energy filling the air.

Joel and I both jumped when Brock’s cell rang.

Instantly, he flipped it open and put it to his ear.

“Detective Lucas,” he answered then, “Yeah.” Then a pause before another, “Yeah.” Then more listening then scarily a, “No shit, this is my life.” Another pause then, “Yeah, cryin’

wolf, won’t happen again.” Then, finally, “Yeah, thanks,” and he flipped his phone shut.

Then he turned to Joel. “No sign of intruders, buddy. Your mother is perfectly fine and the officer reports Dade answered the door. Dade reported his alarm system is comprehensive, inside and out and it was set. Anyone gets within two feet of the perimeter of an entry into the house, including a window, a signal sounds inside the house, goes to the security company and if one of the windows or doors are breached, a message is sent direct to police dispatch.

Did you know that?”

Head tipped back to look at his Dad, Joel shook it slowly while his lip trembled.

God, God, God, I fucking hated Olivia McManus-soon-to-be-whatever-the-fuck.

“The alarm did not signal,” Brock told him.

Joel nodded, lip still trembling.

Brock held his son’s eyes. Then he sucked in a heavy breath.

Then he held out an arm and said gently, “Come on, buddy, I’ll walk you to your room.”

Joel nodded again, got up, muttered a, “’Night, Tess, sorry,” without looking at me and scurried out of the room.

Brock followed him without looking at me either.

I scooted into the bed, arranged the pillows behind my back, rested against them, legs crossed and I pulled the covers up to my waist. Then I noticed that my happy, cosmopolitans with the girls buzz was long gone and my other, happier, having fun with Brock buzz was way gone.

Yep, totally fucking hated Olivia McManus-soon-to-be-whatever-the-fuck.

Brock returned some time later, I straightened my back from the headboard where I was resting while contemplating vacation spots which graduated to me contemplating getaway options where we’d head when I took Brock, Joel and Rex on the run and I watched him close the door. Then I watched him walk in the room, stop, flip the phone he still held open and hit some buttons.

Then he put it to his ear and waited while I bit my lip and braced.

This was a good idea.

Olivia obviously picked up for Brock growled low, “Even for you, that was low. FYI for future, the bullshit with the phones is done. They can have ‘em during the day but the minute they enter this house, they’re turned off and confiscated. You do not enter this house. Ever.

Any fuckin’ way you can do it. And warning, Olivia, you can kiss your sons good-bye which means you can kiss any support you think you can drain outta me good-bye. You don’t get them and you don’t get a dime. You just declared war and mark this, woman, I’ll stop at nothin’ to win. You… are… fucked.”

Then he closed his phone but stood there staring at it and I knew he did this because he was struggling with the urge to throw it.

“Baby,” I called softly and his head came up.

“Just got finished explainin’ to my twelve year old boy that it is highly unlikely that his mother has lived in that house with Dade for over two years and doesn’t realize they have top notch security. Then I told him, should she be worried about intruders anyway, she should call 911 as everyone knows to call 911, they even got dogs trained to dial nine fuckin’ one fuckin one.”

Oh man.

Brock kept talking. “Then I told him, if she’s freaked, she should go to her husband. If they’re not gettin’ along and she’s freaked and forgets what to do, she should call me direct.

What she should not do, under any circumstances, is call a twelve year old kid in the middle of the fuckin’ night and scare the shit outta him. And then I had to explain why she called him which was, essentially, so she could scare the shit outta him and yank my chain. Then my kid started cryin’.”

Yep, totally hated her.

“Honey, come here,” I whispered.

He held my eyes, I watched with despair as his eyes grew conflicted then he dropped his head and looked at his feet as he lifted a hand and curled his fingers around the back of his neck.

Okay, I was wrong.

Before, I just disliked her intensely.

Now, I totally fucking hated her.

“Brock, baby, come here, ” I urged, his hand dropped and his head came up.

“I did not want this for them,” he whispered and I felt my throat clog.

“Come here,” I repeated huskily.

“Did everything I could to protect them from this shit,” he went on. “I should never have taken that cover that took me outta their lives for a whole fuckin’ year.”

I gave up, threw the covers back and went to him. I got close, wrapped my arms around him and pressed deep.

I tipped my head back when his arms curved around me and my eyes locked with his.

“She is who she is,” I said quietly. “And because she is, even if you didn’t take that cover, they would eventually learn who she is because she is who she is. You have no responsibility for her actions. You were doing your job, your job was important but it required sacrifices.

There are a lot of important jobs men and women take that require them to make that kind of sacrifice. Soldiers for one. And undercover DEA agents for another.”

“Yeah, Tess, but –”

I interrupted him. “You have to be who you are. If you’re doing something important and you believe in it, you have to do it even if that means sacrifices. You have to do it because that’s how you teach them to do the same.”

“Tess –”

I cut him off this time by giving him a squeeze.

“She’s doing this to herself. Do you think they live in fear of whatever reaction she’ll have, whatever tantrum she’ll throw and they’ll not cotton on eventually?” I asked but didn’t wait for his answer, I shook my head and gave him another squeeze. “No way, Brock. Those are your boys and they are far from stupid.”

One of his arms left me so he could curl his fingers around my neck as he whispered,

“Baby.”

“It’s your duty to teach them to be good men. You learned because you had a good mother and despite a bad father. They’ve got the opposite. You’re obligated to do this anyway but in this situation you’re all they’ve got. There is no escaping it and it wouldn’t matter what they faced in their lives, you’d still have to do it. And part of being a good man is being a strong one, doing what you believe in, standing up for yourself and the ones you love and protecting them from harm and you’re doing that. Think about what happened when you were growing up. I’m sure Fern wanted to protect you but she couldn’t, that was your life. You can’t protect them from this because it’s a part of their life. What you can do is help them understand what’s happening around them and teach them how to cope. It sucks that you had to explain to your son that his mother scared him on purpose just to fuck with you but you were right to do it.”

His fingers dug hard into my neck and his eyes flared.

Then his fingers relaxed and his head dropped so he could touch his mouth to mine.

When he lifted his head, I told him softly, “We need to talk about your talk.”

He nodded but said, “That was only a little less painful than this shit tonight.”

Not good news.

I licked my lips then pressed them together.

Then I gave him a gentle tug toward the bed and whispered, “All right, come to bed and tell me.”

Brock studied me for a minute then his fingers left my neck to slide up into my hair then down through the back of it.

Then we went to bed and he told me.

Then he turned out the light, he held me and I held him back until he fell asleep in my arms but I lay awake in his.

And only then did I let the silent tears of frustration and powerlessness fall.

But luckily there were only a few.

Then I burrowed into my man and fell asleep.

“Those look freaking fantastic!” I exclaimed and I was not lying.

Kellie was at a stainless steel table in the back of my bakery (where the magic happened) and she was adorning chocolate cupcakes with mountainous swirls of mocha frosting. She’d already finished a tray and they were lightly dusted with cocoa powder and showered with orange-flavored sugar and chocolate sprinkles.

They looked awesome.

Her eyes went from her pastry bag to me.

Then the tip of her tongue that had been poking out the side of her mouth disappeared and she asked, “Do you think?”

I looked at the cupcakes then back to her. “Uh… yeah. ”

She grinned at me.

We’d had a busy day and stocks were low by the time she got there after school so I set her to work alongside me seeing as business was picking up due to the after work crowd swinging by to get goodies for home. I’d just returned from refilling cookie jars (fat, yummy peanut butter with those criss cross fork indents in them and oatmeal with dried cranberries and white chocolate chips).