Reclaimed
Page 3
“You look after our girls, yeah, bud?” I ask, swallowing the sting of deceit of what I’m doing to them all. He pauses his game and turns to face me. His green eyes light up at the task.
“You got it.” He puffs out his eleven-year-old chest and a small smile falls on my lips. Jesus, I love this kid.
“Love you,” I call before I close the door, shutting out his reply. I walk the path to the front drive and mount my Harley.
“Fuck!” I shout out to the quiet street, needing to release my frustration. “Fuck, man, keep it together,” I berate myself, knowing I’m doing what I need to do for my wife, for my family.
“You’re not leaving her. You’re helping,” I remind myself, starting the bike up to block out the reply I’m sure to come up with.
Helping her.
If only I knew how to help her.
CHAPTER TWO
Kadence
“He left,” I whisper to the empty kitchen. I don’t know if I was expecting a reply, but the heaviness of the truth sits painfully on my chest. Oh, God, he left. Trepidation courses through my body and threatens to overwhelm me, bringing me to my knees as I sink to the floor. I don’t understand the uneasiness of my emotions. I don’t understand how I can go from riding in a bliss of new baby smell, to feeling like I’m walking blindly in a fog so thick I can’t see five inches in front of me.
How could he just leave like this? He knows I can’t be left alone. He left when I begged him not to. A prickly sensation of hysteria claws at my heart, squeezing harder and harder until drawing a breath becomes too painful. I can’t do this. What if she wakes up? My eyes drift to the cordless phone, sitting on the edge of the kitchen counter. Moving slowly, as my heart pounds in my chest, I crawl over and reach up, snagging it first go. Controlling the small tremble that begins in my hand, I dial the first number that comes from my fingers.
Holly. My best friend.
She will come. She always comes.
“Hello.” She answers on the third ring and I can already hear the smile in her voice, but I don’t have time to process this new resentment that spreads through me every time I hear her so happy.
“Hey, what are you doing?” I try to come across as composed, but in reality, I’m anything but. My mind and body have been putting on a show for the last few weeks, and I'm tired. So fucking tired, I don’t even know how much longer I can keep going.
“I’m just out with Sy,” she replies, seemingly oblivious to the mild breakdown I’m having on the floor of my kitchen.
“Doesn’t Sy have to get to the club for the club meet?” I question, finding the perfect opening to get her to come over.
“Um, yeah. We’re about to head there now.” I hear rustling and a muffled voice in the background but can’t make out who is talking.
“Well, get Sy to drop you off before,” I suggest, keeping the pleading out of my voice.
“We can’t. Sy needs to get straight there.” She shuts down my suggestion. The panic collars me, causing me to hyperventilate. An invisible force threatens to drag me down into a hole so deep I fear no one can hear my screams for help.
“Holly,” I begin as the first sounds of Harlow’s whimpers startle me through the crackle of the monitor.
“Oh, is that Low? I’ll let you go,” she says, and before I can beg for help, she’s gone.
Oh, God, what am I going to do now? I let the phone drop to the floor as Harlow’s little murmurs turn into cries. Cries that I can’t handle.
“Kadence, Low is awake,” Z calls out from the living room.
“Yeah, I know, bud. I’ll meet you up there,” I wheeze out, forcing myself to get it together at least for the kids’ sake.
“Hey, baby Low. How you doin’?” I hear Z murmur to his baby sister through the monitor. Her cries stop as she hears her brother’s voice, and if I wasn’t in total breakdown mode, I would smile at how much she already loves him. If only she loved me like that. If only I could bring that love to her.
I check the clock sitting above the fridge in front of me. It’s only been seven minutes. Seven whole minutes. Seven minutes which feel like a lifetime.
“You coming, Kadence?” Z calls again, antsy to play with his sister. We only have one rule, one rule I’m strict on, and that’s he can’t pick Harlow up out of the crib without me or Nix there. He knows this, so he will be waiting for me to come in for her.
Mindful that the longer I take to get to the kids, the worse it will be for all of us; I gradually pick myself up and force myself to go to my children.
The trek up the carpeted stairs takes longer than normal. The sound of Z’s voice and Harlow’s cries growing with each step I climb. I stop at the decorated door, a pink plaque hangs in the center; purple letters adorned in golds and pinks spell out her name. Slowly, I drag a long breath through my nose and try to calm myself before I push the door open and force myself to enter.
“Here’s momma,” Z comforts his sister, his knuckle in her mouth as she tries to suck.
“Hey.” I force a smile, knowing if anyone else was here, they would see past my fake bullshit. Not Z, not my sweet Z though.
Moving toward the honey-stained oak crib, I catch the first glimpse of her dark curls. I remember when she was born, the first thing I noticed was her dark hair. Just like her father’s. Then she opened her eyes and it was like falling in love in slow motion. Reaching the side of the crib, I peer over and watch as those same eyes come to mine. Green, vibrant and just like her father’s. They still melt me each time I see them.
“You got it.” He puffs out his eleven-year-old chest and a small smile falls on my lips. Jesus, I love this kid.
“Love you,” I call before I close the door, shutting out his reply. I walk the path to the front drive and mount my Harley.
“Fuck!” I shout out to the quiet street, needing to release my frustration. “Fuck, man, keep it together,” I berate myself, knowing I’m doing what I need to do for my wife, for my family.
“You’re not leaving her. You’re helping,” I remind myself, starting the bike up to block out the reply I’m sure to come up with.
Helping her.
If only I knew how to help her.
CHAPTER TWO
Kadence
“He left,” I whisper to the empty kitchen. I don’t know if I was expecting a reply, but the heaviness of the truth sits painfully on my chest. Oh, God, he left. Trepidation courses through my body and threatens to overwhelm me, bringing me to my knees as I sink to the floor. I don’t understand the uneasiness of my emotions. I don’t understand how I can go from riding in a bliss of new baby smell, to feeling like I’m walking blindly in a fog so thick I can’t see five inches in front of me.
How could he just leave like this? He knows I can’t be left alone. He left when I begged him not to. A prickly sensation of hysteria claws at my heart, squeezing harder and harder until drawing a breath becomes too painful. I can’t do this. What if she wakes up? My eyes drift to the cordless phone, sitting on the edge of the kitchen counter. Moving slowly, as my heart pounds in my chest, I crawl over and reach up, snagging it first go. Controlling the small tremble that begins in my hand, I dial the first number that comes from my fingers.
Holly. My best friend.
She will come. She always comes.
“Hello.” She answers on the third ring and I can already hear the smile in her voice, but I don’t have time to process this new resentment that spreads through me every time I hear her so happy.
“Hey, what are you doing?” I try to come across as composed, but in reality, I’m anything but. My mind and body have been putting on a show for the last few weeks, and I'm tired. So fucking tired, I don’t even know how much longer I can keep going.
“I’m just out with Sy,” she replies, seemingly oblivious to the mild breakdown I’m having on the floor of my kitchen.
“Doesn’t Sy have to get to the club for the club meet?” I question, finding the perfect opening to get her to come over.
“Um, yeah. We’re about to head there now.” I hear rustling and a muffled voice in the background but can’t make out who is talking.
“Well, get Sy to drop you off before,” I suggest, keeping the pleading out of my voice.
“We can’t. Sy needs to get straight there.” She shuts down my suggestion. The panic collars me, causing me to hyperventilate. An invisible force threatens to drag me down into a hole so deep I fear no one can hear my screams for help.
“Holly,” I begin as the first sounds of Harlow’s whimpers startle me through the crackle of the monitor.
“Oh, is that Low? I’ll let you go,” she says, and before I can beg for help, she’s gone.
Oh, God, what am I going to do now? I let the phone drop to the floor as Harlow’s little murmurs turn into cries. Cries that I can’t handle.
“Kadence, Low is awake,” Z calls out from the living room.
“Yeah, I know, bud. I’ll meet you up there,” I wheeze out, forcing myself to get it together at least for the kids’ sake.
“Hey, baby Low. How you doin’?” I hear Z murmur to his baby sister through the monitor. Her cries stop as she hears her brother’s voice, and if I wasn’t in total breakdown mode, I would smile at how much she already loves him. If only she loved me like that. If only I could bring that love to her.
I check the clock sitting above the fridge in front of me. It’s only been seven minutes. Seven whole minutes. Seven minutes which feel like a lifetime.
“You coming, Kadence?” Z calls again, antsy to play with his sister. We only have one rule, one rule I’m strict on, and that’s he can’t pick Harlow up out of the crib without me or Nix there. He knows this, so he will be waiting for me to come in for her.
Mindful that the longer I take to get to the kids, the worse it will be for all of us; I gradually pick myself up and force myself to go to my children.
The trek up the carpeted stairs takes longer than normal. The sound of Z’s voice and Harlow’s cries growing with each step I climb. I stop at the decorated door, a pink plaque hangs in the center; purple letters adorned in golds and pinks spell out her name. Slowly, I drag a long breath through my nose and try to calm myself before I push the door open and force myself to enter.
“Here’s momma,” Z comforts his sister, his knuckle in her mouth as she tries to suck.
“Hey.” I force a smile, knowing if anyone else was here, they would see past my fake bullshit. Not Z, not my sweet Z though.
Moving toward the honey-stained oak crib, I catch the first glimpse of her dark curls. I remember when she was born, the first thing I noticed was her dark hair. Just like her father’s. Then she opened her eyes and it was like falling in love in slow motion. Reaching the side of the crib, I peer over and watch as those same eyes come to mine. Green, vibrant and just like her father’s. They still melt me each time I see them.
