As Tears Go By (19 page)

Blinking
down at her, he shook off the unfamiliar thoughts and emotions. “Yeah, sorry.”

Jarred
by the overwhelming sense of love, his release broke free and he shook with
need. Kissing her deeply, she moaned and held him tight. Unforeseen fears
pushed his passion. This was his woman. A territorial need barreled through him
to claim her, all of her, and never let go.

 
“Wow,” she whispered. “That was intense.”

Relieved
she experienced the intensity too, he nestled into her shoulder. The idea of
pulling away from her was so repugnant he stayed there a while longer. He
needed to get a hold of himself. Her one rule was no
I love yous.
And
what if it really wasn’t love?

* * * *

As the
bathroom door closed, Becca turned to her side and bit her knuckles. What just
happened? She saw it, the moment Braydon’s mind clicked. A second later, she
felt it. Never in her life had she experienced such a poignant connection while
making love.

Worry
had her biting her lip. She was definitely falling for him. Oh, who was she
kidding? She’d fallen. Her heart raced as she worried how this would change
things.

Her
mind clouded with rising misgivings. Depending on others was dangerous. If she
became conditioned to expect Braydon’s presence, she’d be left weaker for it
when on her own again. No matter how she came to care for him, the fear of
eventual failure never subsided.

The
bathroom door clicked open and she shut her eyes, pretending she was asleep as
his body curled around hers under the covers. What if she was imagining things
and he didn’t feel it? What if he was simply that nice of a guy and she was
misinterpreting everything? She was so jaded and he was so idealistic. It
wouldn’t be difficult to garner the wrong impression from such a nice guy.

Her
mind went in circles until she’d truly exhausted herself and fell asleep.

Morning
came all too soon. Slipping out of bed, she tiptoed downstairs to start on
breakfast. It wasn’t long before she heard Hunter up and moving.

Placing
her mug of coffee on the counter, she went to say good morning. As she worked
through their morning routine of brushing and dressing, she thought she heard
the shower running in the other bathroom. Her nervousness was back, and she
wondered how Hunter would react to Braydon still in their home.

“Okay,
bud, let’s head downstairs for breakfast.”

Leading
Hunter down to the kitchen took several minutes. They moved his chart and he
marched around the house as she started the French toast.

“Truck!
Mom, truck!”

“What?”
Placing the last slice onto a plate, she turned to see what Hunter was shouting
about.

“Truck.
Truck in the yard.”

Frowning,
she went to the window. There certainly was a truck in their driveway. It was
large and muddy and she had no idea what it was doing there. A horn beeped and
she quickly directed Hunter to the den. “You can listen to three songs.”

“I
wanna go outside and see the truck,” he argued.

The
doorbell rang and she unraveled the earbuds from the iPod. “I don’t know who
those people are. Stay here.”

“No!”
He pushed off the sofa and Becca gave up on trying to get him to stay inside.
She was still in her pajamas and without a bra.

Taking
Hunter by his arm, she guided him to the door. “Okay, come with me.” As she
unlocked the door, holding Hunter tight, all words left her head.

“Hi.
Are you Becca?”

There
were two of them, two shockingly handsome—identical—men standing on her porch.
Hunter darted for the yard and jerked her arm in its socket. Her grip remained
tight as she pulled him back.

“Y-yes.
Can I help you?”

“We
heard you need a tree removed. Is it that one there?”

They
had to be twins. “Um…” Hunter writhed to get outside. Pressing his arms to his
chest she struggled to restrain him. “Yes. Who are you?”

“I’m
Luke and this’s Finn.” The guy glanced at Braydon’s car in the driveway. “Is
Bray here?”

“Oh,
you’re the people Braydon called. I didn’t expect you so soon.” Hunter started
to really jostle her around. “I’m sorry. Would you mind holding on for a second
while I situate my son?” The men smiled as Hunter shouted about wanting to see
the truck. “I’ll go find Braydon.”

Shutting
the door and locking it, she turned Hunter just as his hand swung out and
caught her on the cheek. Stinging tears rushed to her eyes. “Enough,” she said
sternly. “You hurt Mommy.”

Issuing
a scream that had her flinching away, she waited, never releasing her hold on
his arms. Braydon came barreling down the stairs in a panic.

“Becca?”

Not
having time to answer, she looked at Hunter. “Say sorry.”

Hunter
screamed again and Braydon took a halting step forward. When her grip slipped,
Hunter shoved her. She dropped from where she squatted to the floor, taking her
son as much onto her lap as possible. Her arms contained him in a tight basket
hold and he started to shriek, attempting to smack her. She rocked back and
forth trying to sooth him. “If you quiet down I’ll take you outside to see the
truck, but not until you calm down.”

She
couldn’t see Braydon from where she was sitting, but she imagined he was
terrified. Hunter screamed again, this time punching himself in the head.

“Hey!
No hitting.” Her son was fast and strong, making it difficult to keep hold of
him. She only restrained him when there was a chance of injury, but he hated
being touched and that made episodes like this all the more difficult. His legs
kicked the floor hard and she twisted like a pretzel, wrapping her own limbs
around his, while trying to protect herself as well.

Her
strength waned the longer he fought. His arm slipped past her hold and punched
into her leg as he screeched and suddenly a large fist closed over her son’s
smaller, flailing hand. “Hunter.”

Glancing
up at Braydon who kneeled beside them, her son froze. Braydon looked nervous,
but his focus remained on her son. Using a soft voice, he said, “I saw her
today…”

Hunter
tensed, every muscle in his body flexing tight, but Braydon held onto his fist,
not with force, but with definite control.

“Help
me out, buddy. A glass of wine…”

“Hand,”
Hunter shouted.

Braydon
glanced at her, his expression pleading for the next verse. Becca panted out
the next lyric.

Hunter
thrust his body forward on the floor then screeched out the next verse.

Braydon
met her gaze and smiled, nodding. Together they whispered the chorus about not
always getting what you want.

Hunter
moaned and Becca released her hold. Braydon dropped further to the ground as
her son stomped toward the piano but didn’t settle. His body rocked as he
hummed the chorus and shouted, “Get what’chya need!”

Becca
caught her breath and as much as she should be admiring the sudden
transformation in her son, she couldn’t take her eyes off Braydon. He was
watching her too, his eyes tense with concern. His hand lifted slowly, the back
of his fingers grazing the sore part of her cheek Hunter had hit.

Her
vision blurred at the awkward sense of exposure and she lowered her gaze.

“You
okay?”

She
nodded. If not for him, she’d still be restraining her son. “Your friends are
here for the tree. I think that triggered him. He got excited about the truck.”

“Oh,
Becca.” He looked away and slowly shook his head.

She
didn’t want him to feel guilty for helping her. “It’s okay.”

“I’m
sorry. I should’ve given you a heads up they were coming first thing. I didn’t
expect them this early.”

“You’re
doing me a favor, please don’t apologize. Who do I make the check out to?”

“Don’t
worry about it.”

She met
his stare. “Are they just doing a quote today?”

“No,
they’ll take care of it.”

“Well,
how are they going to get paid?”

“You
can try to pay them. They won’t take it.” He stood and held out a hand to help
her off the floor. Hunter rocked and pounded a few notes on the piano each time
he passed the keys.

Braydon
stood and carefully helped her off the floor. “Come on, let me introduce you.”
He glanced back at Hunter. “Did he want to see the truck?”

“Yeah.”

Braydon
stepped close, but didn’t touch. “Hunter, are you ready to see the truck?”

He
stilled and flicked the side of his face. There was no eye contact and his
motions were jerky, but that was typical behavior after a tantrum.

Becca
stepped forward, snapping out of her trance. “Hunter, do you want to go outside
and see the truck?”

His
arms flapped. “I want to see the truck.”

“Can
you say sorry first?”

His
personal struggle was evident as he paced. Falling back on his signs, he rubbed
his chest and mumbled an apology. She accepted the sign for sorry and gently
touched his shoulder before placing her hand on his arm. “Let’s go see the
truck.”

After
pulling on a jacket for the sake of the neighbors, they made it to the
driveway. The men were inspecting the tree, and Braydon talked to them as Becca
took Hunter to the truck. It was large and orange, and had a high reach on the
top and a chipper attached to the back. Her son was utterly fascinated by its
presence dominating their yard.

“Becca?”

She
turned as Hunter inspected the handles on the side. Braydon waited a few steps
away with the men. She smiled nervously, knowing the men probably weren’t
expecting such a demonstration that morning.

“These are
my brothers, Finn and Luke. Guys, this’s Becca and her son, Hunter.”

Oh
my God, they’re his brothers!

One man
held his hand out. “Pleasure to meet you, Becca. I’m Finn.”

She
shook his hand, her palms sweating, and glanced at Braydon. “Brothers?”

“Two of
them.”

Her
grin quavered. “You’re the twins.”

Luke
shook her hand as well. Recalling her disheveled appearance, she fidgeted.
Lovely. This was his family’s first impression of her.

“I
didn’t realize. You’ll have to excuse my appearance. Can I get you some coffee
or…” She wasn’t prepared for this. Perhaps this was one of Braydon’s
faults—spontaneity.
 

“Why
don’t you get dressed, and I’ll show Hunter the inside of the truck?”

Her
mouth opened, ready to object. Overbearing didn’t accurately describe her parenting.
She was a jumble of protectiveness and reluctance for a reason. “I don’t know
if that’s such a good—”

Before
she could finish her objection Braydon stepped close and kissed her temple,
whispering, “You can trust me, angel. I’ll keep an eye on him. I promise.”

Control
wasn’t surrendered easily. Glancing to his brothers, she nervously shook her
head. “He runs—”

“So
does Finn. Trust me, we can keep him safe for a few minutes. Go get dressed and
we’ll be fine.”

They
did look like a capable threesome. Feeling a little outnumbered and chastising
herself for being her usual overbearing self, she grudgingly forced herself to
bend a little. “O—okay.”

With a
sense of empty handedness, she returned to the house. When she made it to her
bedroom, she glanced out the window. Braydon and his brothers surrounded
Hunter, each one smiling as Hunter pointed out various parts of the truck. Luke
climbed into the driver seat and Braydon held Hunter’s shoulder as the high
reach extended. They grinned with her son as his excitement tumbled into
laughter.

Her
hand pressed into her chest as the pinching over her heart tightened. She was
an emotional mess.

Quickly
slipping on clean clothes and sneakers, she brushed her teeth and pulled up her
hair. When she returned to the front yard the men were all cheering as Hunter
yelled into a walkie talkie.

Becca
came to Braydon’s side. “Who’s he talking to?”

Braydon
chuckled. “My dad.”

“All
the way in Center County?”

He
nodded then shouted. “Tell him we’re gonna take down this tree, Hunter.”

Hunter
laughed and shouted into the hand held device, “We’re gonna take down this
tree!”

A
scratchy voice came over the speaker, “Ten Four.”

Luke
gave Hunter a hand climbing out of the truck.
 
Hunter immediately ran to her side and informed her he used the walkie
talkie and was inside the truck. “He said Ten Four, Mom! Ten Four!”

“I
heard! How about we go inside and have breakfast then you can watch Luke and
Finn cut down the tree from the window?”

It
seemed the tree was the perfect motivation. Luke and Finn followed them inside
and Becca apologized for the mess. She served up the French toast as they
talked. There was always a touch of insincerity whenever new people came into
her home. There was no way of telling if the people that didn’t outwardly
comment on their situation were simply polite, or judging them in their heads
or, rarest of all, not really bothered by the differences.