#i mean how could it not be with just looking at how nik and ovi are

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 77

Warnings: none

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @alievans007​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​

“Easiest way to do this is to park on the east side of the Sultana Kamal Bridge,” Esme instructs,  face emotionless and eyes riveted on the road in front of them.

The closer they get to the city center, the more powerful the anxiety grows; gnawing at her stomach and tying it into knots and painfully tightening her chest. The mere thought of being in Bangladesh itself has been nerve wracking enough, but being minutes from the downtown core and from the single most traumatic event of her life has her body and mind rebelling. Incessant nausea accompanied by a pounding headache; her heart thundering in her chest and sweat gathering at her temples and along the nape of her neck.  She feels light headed and repeatedly wrings her perspiration slicked hands together and bounces her leg up and down. The beginning of the ride had been tolerable, but when weather beaten high rises and smaller, derelict apartments began to appear on the horizon, the situation became far too real. It’s terrifying and puts her already frazzled nerves on high alert, and there’s nothing she wants more than to tell Koen to stop and turn around; go back to the house and get someone else to do the dirty work. To find a way back to Mumbai and her children; wait the situation out and hope  and pray that they can go home sooner rather than later.   But it isn’t that easy. She can’t simply walk away and wash her hands of it. Not when Neysa and Aarev are being held captive and especially not when her own family is being threatened.  There’s not a single escape   that doesn’t involve going directly into town. And unfortunately, the quickest way in -and out- is over that bridge.

“You sure about that?” Koen asks, a frown curving his lips. “Doesn’t seem easy. Or smart for that matter.”

“It’s way too crowded right downtown,” she reasons. “Especially at this time of the day. This is prime market hours. I’ve been here; I know what the streets are like and I know they’re crowded and damn near impossible to navigate in a car.”

“And if shit goes down, we have a hell of a long way back to our ride,” he informs her.

“If shit goes down, it won’t matter where we’re parked. Thirty inches away, thirty feet, thirty yards, thirty miles. If something goes wrong, we won’t make it back to the car no matter how close it is.”

“So how do we get back? If something does fuck up?”

“We don’t. At least not until nightfall. We find somewhere safe to hunker down until things have calmed and we can start moving again. And that’s IF we get that far. You do realize what will happen to us if we’re caught, right? If Asif’s people catch on or the cops figure out we’re connected to Tyler? Chances are, we won’t survive long enough to see the sun go down.”

“Jesus Christ…”

“I know places where we can hide out if we need to. But they’re only good if we can get to them. We have to get into town and be smart and be quick. The longer we’re there, the higher the chance of things going to shit. I learned that the hard way. I don’t want you to learn it too.”

“But if we…”

“You have to listen to me!” Esme snaps, and he blinks at the force in her voice. “I’ve been here before. I know the city and I know the market area and I am telling you that the best thing to do is park on the east side of the bridge. There’s a clearing there; it’s where we got Ovi out. And if you want to get out of this, you’ll learn from my mistakes. Because I made enough of them seven years ago and I don't want to make any now. I have too much to lose and I won’t let you fuck this up!”

Silence descends on the car, and she places an elbow on the ledge of her window and her palm against her forehead. Eyes closed as she battles both increasing nausea and the flood of tears that threaten to escape. It’s all too much; the sunlight glistening of the waters of the Buraganga, the cityscape in the near horizon, the faint outline and expanse of the bridge in the distance, even Amir Asif’s home -still occupied and majestic; looming down river.

“I’m sorry,” her voice trembles. . “I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

“That was hardly yelling, kiddo. You’d make a great third wife if you think THAT’S yelling.”

She manages a small laugh. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m just stressed and tired and scared. And this baby has me hormonal as fuck already.”

“You know, that last part could have been prevented had you just told him to roll over and go to sleep,” Koen teases, then drops a hand from the steering wheel and lays it on the back of her neck, gently massaging. “It’s okay, sunshine. I get it. I understand.”

“This place...Dhaka...that bridge...it’s nothing but horrible memories and a lot of suffering and a lot of trauma and nightmares and bullshit. I do NOT want to be here. I don’t even want to be in Bangladesh. Or Mumbai. I just want to be home; with my husband and my kids and my dogs. I want to wake up in the morning to the sound of the ocean and fall asleep to it at night. And I want to sit on my back porch and watch my kids play and hear them giggle and squeal. And I want to cuddle up to my husband knowing he’s safe and sound and that there’s no one out there that wants to hurt him. That’s all I want. And I don’t think that’s too much to ask.”

“It’s not. It’s definitely not.”

“I almost lost him to this place once, and I don’t want the second time to be successful. I know I pride myself in being a strong, independent woman, but I can’t lose him. I CAN do this life alone...raise the kids by myself...but I don’t want to. That man is my entire world; he’s my best friend and he’s my lover and he’s my confidant. He’s my ‘person’. And if that makes me weak and pathetic for saying all that, I don’t give a shit. It’s true. I love him in a way I thought I could never love another human being. And I’m not ready to let that go. To let HIM go.”

“It won’t come to that,” Koen assures her. “I’ll see to it. That it doesn’t happen.”

“Tyler showed up at a time in my life when I’d given up on ever trusting a man again. Mark was a terrible person, he destroyed me in every possible way and Tyler came along and he picked up those pieces and put them back together and he never once complained about it. He just did it. In his own way.  He always talks about how I saved him, but he doesn’t realize he did the same thing for me. That he saved me in every possible way a person can be saved. If I'd never met him, I probably wouldn’t even be here. Because I was just as much of a mess as he was and just as ready to give up on everything.”

“I never realized it was that bad. That YOU were that bad.”

“There’s a lot of things people don’t know.  That only Tyler knows. But believe me when I say that I was broken and I was lost and he found me. We found EACH OTHER.  And he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t care how cliche it sounds or who hears me say it. It’s the truth. And I didn’t let Mahajan or Asif’s people take him from me. I didn’t let them the first time, and I won’t let it happen this time either.”

“You’re a tough little shit," Koen praises. “You know that?”

“A tough little shit bawling like a baby in front of you? Yeah, that screams tough.”  She uses the backs of her hands to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “Don’t tell Tyler I got like this, okay? He worries enough. He doesn’t need to know about my mental breakdown.”

“Your secret is safe with me, kiddo. But I’m afraid I have some things to say that might make you cry some more.”

“”Oh great! Just what I need; looking like a wreck on the job.”

“Now this is all between me and you, because we both know how embarrassed he gets about feelings and emotions and all of that crap. Just between us, yeah?”

Esme nods.

“First, I have to start off by letting you know that he is wildly and crazily, head over heels,  in love with you. More than he thinks he could ever possibly tell you. So if he doesn’t say it a lot, just know he’s feeling it.  That every time he looks at you, he sees his entire world in front of him. The most beautiful, incredible woman on the planet.”

“He told you that? That came out of his mouth? Was he drunk?”

“Stone cold sober. He does say things WHILE he’s drunk, but those are triple x rated, so…”

Esme laughs. “Of course they are.”

“He is terrified of losing you. Right scared shitless. And he isn’t scared of much and he certainly doesn’t admit what he IS scared of. He doesn't want to do this life without you, and he’s pretty convinced he wouldn’t be able to. I’ve seen women come and go out of his life; mostly one night stands or girls in different places he could go to for getting his rocks off.”

“Nik?”

“Nik meant nothing. He’s not lying when he says that. There wasn’t anything there; at least not for him. And I knew his ex. Sarah. Spent some time with her.”

“”Yeah, I had the pleasure of meeting her. When they shipped him from the hospital here to the one in Sydney.  That was a...pleasant...experience.”

“He thought he was in love with her.  High school sweetheart, mother of his first kid. She treated him like complete shit and they’re both at fault for how that whole thing ended up. But when you came along? When I first met you at the hospital and I talked to him about you? I could tell you were different. That what he was FEELING was different. And I saw how he looked at you; how his whole face just lit up when you walked into the room. The way he’d smile at you and how the whole tone of his voice would change when he talked to you. He had it bad even then; I could tell.”

“Maybe he was still caught in the afterglow of those five days.”

“It was more than that. We all knew it. And I’ve known Tyler a long time; I’ve seen him at his worst. And when you came along, I could see how badly he wanted to change. How much he wanted to be the man you needed him to be. That you deserved. And he worked at it. He STILL works at it. You could have easily walked away after Dhaka. Even with a baby in your belly.”

“I didn’t want to walk away.” Esme says. “I wanted to be with him. I wanted to see if we could make something out of nothing. And we did. We made something so amazing.”

“No way he was letting you go. He knew he had a good thing.  He wasn’t going to fuck that up.”

“We were both a mess. And somehow we’ve managed to not make an even bigger one and not totally screw up our children.”

“Those kids are incredible. They’re beautiful. The best of both of you. And they’re here because you looked past just how messed up their daddy was and you saw the potential in him. He was screwed up, but you still managed to see he was a good person...a good man...under all that. And you gave him a chance. To prove that he mattered. That his life meant something.”

“His life has always meant something to me. And it means everything to his kids. He’s our entire existence. He’s the one that keeps it all together when it feels like it’s falling apart. And it WILL fall apart; if something happens to him. If he doesn’t make it out of here…”

“He will,” Koen insists. “I’ll make sure of it. I’ll make sure he gets out and gets back to you and those littles. I promise.”

She gives a  small, hopeful smile.

“And thank you. For taking care of him like you do. For giving him this life. And for loving him like you do.”

“Your voice…” her voice cracks once more. “...you are going to make me cry again..”

“Some things just need to be said,” he reasons, and runs a palm over the top of her head and down her hair. “Just in case.”

****

“We have a problem.”

It’s difficult to make out what she’s saying; a mixture of poor signal and the near deafening sound of vehicle horns blasting and impatient, flustered yelling of people gathered around her. But there’s no mistaking THAT tone of voice. Fear and worry and a whole lot of anxiety.  He had  just managed to fall asleep -a combination of pure mental exhaustion and another handful of meds- when the phone rang; startling him awake and leaning him disoriented and lightheaded. The extra dose of dilaudid making his head spinning; drowsy despite the nap and sweat beading across his forehead and the back of his neck.  And he grimaces as he sits up on the couch, wincing as he stretches his legs out in front of him and then reaches across his body to rub his shoulder. All those drugs and it STILL persists; that dull, incessant throb deep within the joint and the numbness in his hand.

“What’s wrong? You okay?”

“We parked on the south side of the Sultana Kamal bridge. I figured it was easier to walk in then deal with the traffic and the crowds around the market.”

“Good thinking.” he praises. “Definitely the best way to go. What's the problem?”

“They’ve locked the bridge down. All of the bridges, apparently. They’re not letting anyone through without showing proper ID.”

“You got it, yeah? The one Anil got for you?”

“I do. But that’s not the point. If they’re doing this, they know you’re here. How the hell would they know? We were so careful; coming from the airport.  How do they know you’re here?”

“I have no idea.”

“Someone is feeding these people information. Someone inside. You need to call Anil and let him what’s going on; tell him he needs to figure this out. How are you supposed to do an extraction if you can’t even get into the city? They will kill you on sight, Tyler.”

“I’ll have to figure that out. Is it just the cops?”

“Military too. This is some serious fucking deja vu. As if being on this bridge isn’t bad enough…”

“Are you okay?”

“Not really,” Esme admits. “They have pictures of my husband that they’re comparing to everyone that walks or drives across. So no; I’m not okay.”

“I need you to stay calm. I need you to get over the bridge, get shit done, and get back here safe and sound. I know it sucks; being there on the bridge. But I need you to stay calm. If they see you freaking out, they’ll know something is up. So I need you to settle down.”

“What do we do? If we can’t get out? What do you want us to do? If they lock the city down completely?”

“You call me. You call me and I’ll come and get you. You find somewhere to hide you and I will find a way to get there and get you out.”

“They’ll kill you. If they see you…”

“Better me than you.”

“And if we get caught?”

“Don’t fight them. Let them take you. You fight, they’ll make it worse on you. And if that happens...IF you get caught...I still come get you. Right now, I need you to just relax and get shit done, okay? In and out. No mistakes. Not a single fucking one.”

She gives an uneasy laugh. “No pressure, right?”

“You’ll be alright. You’ve got this. You’ve done this kind of thing hundreds of times.”

“Not when there’s so much at stake, I haven’t. I feel sick. Like really sick.”

“You’re working yourself up. Just try and stay calm. I wish I was there with you; I wish I was the one keeping an eye on you.”

“I wish that too. I’d feel a lot better about all of this if you were here.”

“And it should be me. With you.”

“Koen has things under control. I trust him. Not in the same way I trust or as hard and as deep as I trust you, but…”

“You’re going to be okay. You run into any trouble, you call me. You call me and I’ll get you out.”

“I love you, Tyler. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too. You’ve got this. I know you too.”

“I’ll call if I need to,” she promises, and then disconnects the call.

Sighing heavily, he tosses his cell onto the coffee table and then leans forward and places his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands.   It’s his worst nightmare; her out on the street without him to keep an eye on her. As much as he trusts Koen and knows his friend would stop at nothing to keep her safe, he also knows Koen’s limits. He hasn’t been on the job that long, and despite his years in the military, he simply doesn’t have the skill level or the experience that Tyler has. And it's hard as hell. Being able to do nothing but sit back and wait while his entire heart is out there walking around, putting itself in danger.

He feels nauseous, and both his head and his heart pound furiously. He squeezes his eyes shut and drops his chin to his chest; attempting to steady himself -and his nerves- with long, slow intakes of breath through constricted lungs. It’s the start of a panic attack; he recognizes the fast, irregular heartbeat and the twisting and knotting in his chest and stomach, the perspiration that dampens his hairline. All he can think of is the worst case scenario; Asif’s people grabbing her and spending days...even weeks...making her beg for mercy and eventually death. Doing disgusting and horrendous things to her; abusing her in ways that will make his nightmares seem tame. And they’ll make sure he witnesses it; whether it be through photographs or videos or even forcing her to call him.

His eyes snap open as he reaches for his cell phone; prepared to call Anil and let him know of the hurdles awaiting him in the city center. Pausing when his eyes fall on the bottle of meds sitting nearby. He’s already tripled the recommended daily dose and it’s not even past noon. But there’s no denying the pain; the throbbing in his shoulder and knee and the gnawing in his stomach. And his hands violently tremble as he reaches for the bottle, resorting to using his teeth to twist off the cap. Feeling shame and guilt as he lets four pills drop into his mouth and then swallows them dry.

****

“Something’s not right,” Esme says, as she drops her cell phone into her bag.

The heat is stifling and the humidity nearly unbearable; the Dhaka sun bright and punishing as it beats down on the pedestrians crammed shoulder to shoulder on the bridge. She refuses to acknowledge her surroundings. Choosing to walk along the curb as opposed to near the railing; keeping her eyes straight ahead and never looking down at the ground or out at the river. It’s still too hard; the memories still so fresh and vivid.  Easily able to recall the exact spot in the cracked and dirty sidewalk when he’d been dying in her arms and she’d resorted to sticking her fingers in his neck to save his life. She can still hear the staccato of gunfire and the cries of the wounded and dying and smell spent lead and spilt gasoline. Still able to see the burnt out shells of cars and trucks and mangled, bloody bodies.

“There’s nothing right about any of this,” Koen grumbles, a hand resting protectively on the small of her back, keeping her half a step in front of him as they make their way to the checkpoint.

“That’s true. But I meant with Tyler. Something isn’t right with him.”

“He seemed fine this morning.”

“He is FAR from fine. Things have gotten so much worse since the night he was jumped. The pain is intense and he’s suffering more and more and I don’t know what else I can do for him, other than forcing him to go to the doctor when we get home.”

“Just keep loving on him like you do and taking care of him. I know he appreciates it; Even if he won’t admit. And Lord knows he’s stressed and he’s worried and he’s got a lot on his mind. Makes sense he’s not himself.”

“It’s more than that. He didn’t sound like himself. He sounded...off. He didn’t sound like Tyler. I KNOW his voice; I know its changes and all the different ways it can sound depending on his mood. And that? I haven’t heard that Tyler in a long time. Since our battle trying to beat Oxy. He almost sounds like he’s on it; he’s groggy and just out of it and his accent is even thicker. It’s hard to explain.”

“He was probably napping. You probably woke him up.”

“No. I know what he sounds like when he first gets up in the morning or when he wakes with the baby. It wasn’t that. I know it wasn’t. It’s weird, right? That I notice those things? The changes in his voice? That must seem weird to you.”

“He’s your husband; You spend that long with someone, you notice things. Even the smallest of them.”

“How come you didn’t stay married?” she asks. “Why didn’t any of your wives work out?”

“Marriage isn’t for everyone, sunshine. I happen to be one of those who can’t be married AND happy. I just can’t. Can’t be tied down like that. I like not having to answer to anyone. Doing what I want, when I want.’

“But did you love either of them?”

“Love is...subjective.”

“Humour is subjective. Love is love. You either feel it or you don’t. So did you? Love either of them? Tyler said he liked the second one. What was her name? Kim? He said she was really nice; that she seemed crazy about you. How come you didn’t hang onto her?”

“She was friends with Sarah. His ex. So once they split up for good, it kind of made things difficult between Kim and I. I know he fucked up...HUGE…but I also know what she was like. I know she was always cheating on him and doing him wrong. A lot of us didn’t even think the kid was his.”

Esme arches a brow. “Really?”

“We had our doubts. For good reason, too. He’s never told you that?”

“No. I guess he’s never felt a reason to. But knowing Tyler, it wouldn’t have mattered to him if Austin wasn’t really his. He would have loved him and taken care of him anyway.”

“That big heart of his is going to be his downfall one day.”

“Nik doubted Millie. Hell. I think Tyler even doubted Millie when I first got pregnant. Which is understandable.; I totally didn’t blame him for questioning it. But her? Even when Millie was a baby and even a toddler, she tried putting it in his head that Millie wasn’t his.”

“Which is bullshit,” Koen says. “I mean look at the kid and look at the father.”

“Right? She looks just like him! There’s no way he could ever deny her. Nik’s been a thorn in my side since day one. And I just…” she grimaces and lays a hand against her stomach. “...oh god...I feel so sick.”

“It’s the heat,” Koen reasons. “You shouldn’t be standing out in it like this.”

“It’s everything. The heat, the noise, all the people, the smell of the water...” she draws the neck of her t-shirt over her mouth and nose. “...this isn’t good.”

He moves his hand up to the back of her neck, keeping her moving forward. And when they reach the front of the line, he rummages through her bag for her ID and presents it -along with his own- to the police officer manning the checkpoint.

“Bandha,” the officer orders in Bengali, motioning for Esme to remove the shirt from her face and the ball cap from her head. “Bandha!”

“Now what’s the point of that?” Koen questions. “She’s clearly not the bloke in the picture you got there. She’s clearly not a bloke at all.”

The officer ignores him, pulling a second picture out from underneath the photo of Tyler. A black and white shot of her from the job in Ireland. When she’d sported short, red hair and glasses. And she feels her stomach jump clear into her throat.

“Look, my wife isn’t feeling well,” Koen explains, as he wraps an arm around her shoulders and draws her tight into his side. “We just found out a few days ago that we’re having a baby; our first. And she hasn’t been having a good go of it and the sun’s making it worse. It's obvious she’s not a bloke and she’s definitely not the girl in that picture. So unless you want her throwing up all over the place…”

“I really do feel sick,” she whimpers. “I need to get somewhere to puke.”

“I know, honey,” he presses a kiss to her temple. “And I’m sure this nice policeman understands.”

The officer looks towards the nearest colleague -likely a higher ranked officer -for help. And receives a nod to allow them to pass.

“Have you seen them?” The first officer inquires, showing the two pictures in her face.

“Haven’t seen them a day in my life,” Koen says, and quickly whisks her away.

****

“That was way too fucking close!” Esme finally allows herself a sigh of relief three blocks later, and tucks her hair back under her baseball hat. “Why the hell would they have a picture of me?”

“Asif’s people aren’t stupid. If they know Tyler’s in town, they also know he’s not dumb enough to show his hand just yet. Guess they figured he’d send you in his place.”

“This is fucked. Way more than I first thought it was. How do they even know Tyler is here? Nathan made the most sense as the mole; he disappears and then shows up out of the blue, being held captive by them? A week and a half later? That makes no sense. They would have let us know if they had him. They take pride in shit like that.”

“So you don’t think it’s him now?”

“I still don’t trust him. Something IS shady about him. But he wouldn’t know that Tyler is here. So there has to be someone else; someone on the inside. Two moles.”

“That’s reaching, don’t you think?”

“It’s the only way any of this makes sense. Nathan was the one who told Mahajan’s man where Tyler was that night and what areas of his body to target. They knew, Koen; they knew to go after his shoulder, knee, AND back. They even went after his neck; right where he was shot and the surgeon had to repair that vein. They knew. And then Nathan takes off and doesn’t show up until a week and a half later?”

“But they have him,” he argues.  “Asif’s people. They have him and they’re fucking him up pretty good.”

“It’s all bullshit. I’m sure of it. And there has to be a way to prove it. Tyler can’t just go in there trusting him. He can’t. There has to be a way to find out Nathan is in on this. We just have to figure out what it is.”

“Whoa...whoa...whoa...you and I don’t need to do shit. We’re doing enough being here.”

“I’m going to ask them to let me see him with my own two eyes. When we find out where he is, I want to go in and see him for myself. I’ll know if he’s lying or not.”

“Are you fucking insane?  You can’t go into something like that. That is not your job.”

“If it prevents Tyler from going in and Nathan backstabbing him? I’ll do it.”

“You think he wants you to? You think he wants you to go in there? Put yourself...and that baby...at risk? He’d never allow that.”

“I don’t need his permission.”

“Normally I’d agree with you, but this is fucked. This is a horrible idea. Let someone else figure it out. This is not up to you. You’re doing enough. MORE than enough.”

“But if I…”

“No more,” he orders. “I won’t hear of this. Not a single word more. You mention it again, I will tell him. Hear me?”

“I hear you. I wont talk about it again. It was just an idea.”

“A stupid ass idea.”

She rolls her eyes.

“So what are we looking for?” he inquires, a hand on her shoulder as her eyes scour the market.

“It’s not WHAT I’m looking for. It’s WHO I’m looking for.  And I’m hoping he’s still here.”

“You want to be a little more specific, or…”

“I met a vendor the first time we were here. He sold handmade jewellery. Tyler got me this…” she holds up her right hand; showing off the simple braided leather and beaded bracelet she sports. “...from him. But he’s way more valuable than just his jewellery. He keeps his ear to the ground. BOTH ears. He was able to find out things for me like that…” she snaps her thumb and index finger together. “...and if he’s still here, I’m hoping he can still help.”

“A lot can change in seven years,” Koen reasons.

“Nothing has changed here. It still looks the same, sounds the same, smells the same. That’s where we stayed,”  she nods towards a rundown hotel across the street. “Third floor, second room. The balcony that has the rug hanging over the railing. THAT hasn’t even changed. I bet the toilet is still broken and I bet they haven’t painted the dirty walls or put in a proper shower head. Nothing’s changed; not a goddamn thing.”

For several minutes she searches the market. Attempting to blend in with the other shoppers; making small talk with both buyers and vendors, picking up various objects and studying them, purchasing  food items for the safe house and small trinkets that would appeal to the kids. Koen sticks close to her side; hand never leaving the small of her back, never speaking yet offering pleasant smiles and nods in greeting.

“Here! Over here!” she suddenly exclaims, grabbing him by the wrist and yanking him behind her. Pausing at a vendor tucked alongside of a busy laundry, nervously rocking back and forth on her heels chewing on her bottom lip as she waits for the owner to finish up with a customer. And she notices the look on the older man’s face when he regards her; his eyes narrowed and head tilted to the side. And she sees the glimmer of recognition. “Do you remember me?” she asks. “I know you’ve seen a lot of people since we met, but…” she removes her head and shakes her hair free. “...do you? When we first met, you commented on my hair. About how long it was and how the sun made the red in it sparkle. Do you remember?”

A bright, wide smile spreads from ear to ear. “My friend!” he gleefully cries, and hurries around the side of the table to warmly embrace her. “You haven’t changed a bit!” He presses a kiss to each cheek. “As beautiful as ever!”

“Thank you. But believe me, I’ve changed a lot. How are you? You look wonderful.  Life’s been treating you kind?”

“It’s been fair to me. I can’t complain. Well I could,  but no one would listen,” he chuckles. “You’re back! In Dhaka?”

“Just for a few days. For work.”

“And your husband? He is still your husband?”

“He is. He is still hanging in there. We have five kids now.”

“Five children! Big family. Last time I saw you, you just had the one. A little girl.”

“Amelia. Millie. She just turned six. And she’s so smart and so beautiful. She looks just like her daddy. They’re back at the hotel; the kids wanted to go swimming and he offered to stay behind to take them.”

“Good guy that one!”

“Yeah, he is. A very good guy.And this is my brother. Kyle.” She lays a hand on Koen’s shoulder. “The one I told you about.”

“The fireman?”

“That’s me,” Koen smiles, abandoning his accent  and shaking the hand offered to him. “Thought I’d keep little sis company.”

“I was wondering if you could help us.” Esme says, and begins admiring and surveying items for sale when she notices curious bystanders watching them intently. “I could really, really, REALLY use your help.”

“With what?”

“I need information. Do you still have an ear to the ground? You still have people you can trust?”

He nods.

“Have you seen the picture floating around? The man everyone is looking for? The mercenary?”

“Looks very much like your husband. I only saw him with a  hat on when he was here though. And sunglasses. So I couldn’t say for sure. I didn’t think it was him. A mercenary? That doesn’t seem like a job for someone like him. He was always so friendly and good to me.”

“His name is Tyler Rake. My husband. And he IS a mercenary. Seven years ago, we came here to find a kid that had been taken by Amir Asif.”

“Mahajan’s kid?”

“That’s why we were here. And we found him and everything went to shit. All that trouble on the bridge? That was us. That was ALL us. And I need your help again. And I’m willing to pay. I’m willing to pay VERY well.”

“What do you need?”

“Amir Asif is dead, but in some ways, he’s very much alive. I know he has people trying to avenge him. Carrying on his business. And they've grabbed friends of ours.”

“A woman and a teenage boy,” the vendor says. “And a mercenary.”

“I work for the people that want them back. I need to get word to Asif’s people that I’m in town and I’m ready to negotiate. That I have access to the money they asked for, but I’d rather talk first. And I need proof of life. For all three.”

The vendor nods slowly.

“Can you do it? Get the word out? To the right people?”

“I can.”

“But will you. Will you do that for me?”

“I will.”

“I need it done right away. As soon as I walk away. It’s important it gets done right away.”  She reaches into her bag and pulls out a pen and small notebook, tossing open the cover and hastily scribbling her cell number. “Tell them to text first. They text with a number that  I or one of my people can call. Tell them we want to talk and start negotiations. ASAP. But  nothing will happen unless we see with our own eyes that everyone is alive. That is the only way they’ll get what they want. Tell them I’m in charge. Not them. And that I’ll give them their money, but I’m NOT giving them the man they want. That’s non negotiable and it’s never going to happen.”  She tears the paper from the notebook, then removes a hundred dollars from her wallet and hands both to the vendor. “Thank you.”

“This is too much!” he exclaims. “Way too much! You are too generous!”

“You deserve way more than that, believe me. Thank you. You have no idea how much this means  to me.”

“At least take something.” he says. “For yourself. Your children. Especially your little girl.”

Selecting three  bracelets -for herself, Millie, and Addie-, she slips her hat back onto her head and bids farewell, giving an appreciative smile and a small wave as other customers approach.   And she grabs  Koen tightly by the hand as they slip into the crowd.

*****

He doesn’t hear the phone until it’s on the second ring, and he hastily  rinses the soap and shampoo from his body and hair, leaving the water running as he tosses open the door. Wincing and limping as he hurries across the room and grabs the cell from the ledge of the sink. He’d thought a shower - alternating between ice cold and steaming hot- would help alleviate both the fogginess in his brain and the multitude of aches inhabiting his body. But so far it’s done nothing.

“Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine.”  Relief rushes through him at the sound of her voice. Much calmer...brighter...than it was the first time around. “We just got back to the car. It didn’t start out too good though.”

He uses his shoulder to hold his phone to his ear and snags a towel from the back of the door, loosely wrapping it around his waist. “What happened?”

“They had my picture. At the checkpoint.”

“What the fuck..”

“It was an old one. From Ireland. When I had glasses and my hair was red and short. I almost passed out, I swear.  And I had my hat on and my shirt over my mouth and nose because the smell of the water was going to make me puke and they were going to make me take both off.”

“Jesus Christ…”

“Koen handled it. He told them I was his wife and that it was pretty obvious that I wasn’t the guy or the girl in the pictures. That I was pregnant and feeling sick and unless they wanted me puking everywhere, they’d let me through.”

“And they bought it?”

“Yup. But that was a close call. Way too close. And then I saw  Farhad. On the way back across the bridge.”

“Did he see you?”

“No. I pretended I needed to tie my shoe and by the time I stood back up, he was past us already. I swear...when I saw him...I have never been that angry in my entire life. I know he was just a kid when he almost killed you, but I was so fucking angry. He’s out there walking around like nothing ever happened and meanwhile he’s caused so many fucking problems! If you run into him, you better end him once and for all.”

He uses a second towel to vigorously rub at his hair as he heads out into the bedroom. “Esme…”

“I mean it, Tyler. I won’t have peace until he’s dead. He’s not a kid anymore. There’s no reason to spare him now.”

“Baby, that’s revenge.”

“And sometimes revenge is needed. And I need it. I need that peace of mind that I haven’t had in seven years. So if you run into him…”

“What’s the chances of that? That I’ll actually run into him?”  He hasn’t told her about Farhad’s involvement in Neysa and Aarav’s capture, or the pain and suffering he’s been inflicting on them.  Nothing good will come of that; it will serve only to stoke that already simmering fury and need for revenge that’s been eating away at her for seven years.

“What’s the chances I’d run into him on the bridge?”

He sighs, then grabs his discarded jeans from the back of the chair by the window.

“That little bastard is still out there, walking around. Look at the damage he’s caused. To you. To me. To us. He shouldn’t get away with that. He deserves to pay for what he did. HE NEEDS to pay.”

“You’re just working yourself up. That’s the let down from the adrenaline talking. Or the hormones. Maybe a mix of both. In an hour you won’t feel this way.”

“I’ve felt this way for seven years. It’s not just going to go away. Not unless I know he’s gone.”

“We’ll talk about this when you get back. Talk. Not fight. There’s no sense getting into it now. Everything else went okay?”

“I got the word out. I don’t think we’ll have to wait very long.”

“You’re fucking amazing. And I love you. So much.”

“I love you too.  I just wanted to let you know that we’re okay. I know you were probably worrying yourself sick. And Koen did a great job. He kept an eye on me; not a single hair on my hair was disturbed.”

“So he lives to see another day.”

“Basically,” she laughs. “I’ll see you soon.”

“You definitely will,” he assures her, then presses END on his cell.

****

“That was pretty fucking intense,” Koen declares, as he guns the ignition and peels out of the clearing, leaving a cloud of dirt and dust in his wake.

“Right? I nearly peed myself a couple of times. You saved my ass on that bridge. And you go to live out one of your fantasies.  You got me to be your wife for a few minutes.”

“I would have preferred a few minutes of something else, if you know what I mean.”

“Well you’ll have to keep dreaming about THAT. I’m a one man woman. You’ll have to live vicariously through him.”

“Lucky bastard,” Koen grumbles.

“He knows it too. But I’m pretty lucky myself. That’s something I should probably tell him more often. Even hard asses  probably like to feel appreciated once in a while.”

“You ask me, you SHOW him how much you appreciate him.”

She smiles at that.

“So that was him? The guy on that bridge. That was Farhad?”

“Yeah,” Esme nods. “That was him. The little prick that shot Tyler in the neck. From behind. A total bitch move.”

“He looks like a little bitch.”

“That kid almost took everything from me before it even started. He’s the reason I can’t let go of that place. The things I saw, the things I had to do? That’s all because of that fucking kid. And I can’t forgive him and I can’t move on; I can’t leave the place behind if he’s still here. I just can’t. What if Tyler did die that day? I would have gone home and found out about Millie and I would have gone through it all by myself.   She never would have known her dad. I wouldn’t even have had a picture to show her. All that I would have had was those five days in Dhaka. Those memories of it. That’s it.”

“But he DIDN'T die,” Koen points out. “He made it. Because of you. If you hadn’t stepped up and put your ass on the line…”

“Don’t do that,” she begs. “Don’t put me on a pedestal. I did what I had to do because I felt he deserved to live. And because selfishly, I wanted more time with him. But I don’t deserve praise and I don’t deserve praise for doing something anyone would have done.”

“Not anyone would have done it and you know that. You saved him. And not just on that bridge, either.”

“I just don’t feel comfortable with it; people thanking me and praising me and thinking so highly of me. Tyler deserved to live and that’s why I did it.  Because he’d more than made up for the mistakes he’d made and he deserved another chance.”

“And not everybody would see it that way, either. Would see HIM that way.”

“Well I saw him that way. I’ll always see him that way. And that’s why I want revenge. For him.”

“You want the  kid to die?”

Esme nods. “And if that makes me a bad person, so be it. But it’ll give me peace. I’ll finally be able to let go of this place. I NEED to let go of it.”

“I’ll do it,” Koen offers. “I’ll take care of the kid. For Tyler. For you.”

“You’d do that? For us?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I would.”

[chickensarentcheap]

I Found -Chapter 3

Once again, this is just being reposted as a sort of ‘celebration’ of first anniversary of both the film’s release, and the start of my series.  Feel free to reblog or like or comment or DM me :)

Keep in mind, this is a year old and it’s rough and choppy, but instead of editing, I left it as is to show the difference between my stuff then, and my stuff now :)

Summary: Broken and bleeding. Weathered and in tatters. Two damaged and weary souls find one another when they least expect it. Wrong place, wrong time. Yet both powerless to stop it.

Tagging:  @tragiclyhip

WARNINGS: some profanity

Link to this (and the rest of the series can be found there as well) on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23945782/chapters/57636502

The beach is his favourite place. The sounds and smell of the ocean. The way the sunlight glistens and dances on the rippling water. It is his ultimate escape; the sun's warm and relaxing rays, the texture of the powdery sand between his toes. He's blessed to have a place like this so close to home. A place that he can share with his two most favourite people in the world. It's where they have their best conversations. Where they both feel the most relaxed; calmed by the lapping of the ways and the laughter and chatter of passing families. He sits with his legs stretched out in front of him; sunglasses on, back resting against the cooler of snacks and drinks behind him. A bottle of Gatorade on one side of him and his wife and daughter on the other.

He watches them out of the corner of his eye; the baby in the middle of the blanket enjoying some 'tummy time', clad in a white swimsuit dotted with bright rainbow fish, a tiny sunhat perched a top of her head. His wife in that simple yet sexy black one piece bathing suit, an Undearmour ball cap she'd snagged from his side of the room pulled low on her forehead, her legs folded crisscrossed and her eyes riveted on the book in her lap.

He reaches out and runs his fingers along her arm, and she casts a glance in his direction. Softly smiling as she entwines her fingers with his and places their joined hands on her thigh.

“Bloody hot today,” he says, as he runs his left hand over his face. The metal of the white gold wedding band he sports cool against his face. He takes a swig of the Gatorade and places the bottle between his thighs. Eyes closing as he leans his head back against the cooler.

He isn't sure how much time has passed when he hears her voice. Did he drift off? Did he manage to catch a half an hour of sleep? Or had it just been a few minutes? The position of the sun hasn't changed. But the baby is now on her back and Esme has abandoned the book in favour of dangling a plush singing koala over their daughter's head. The baby is starting to change; she's starting to focus more, her eyes responding to to their voices or activity going on around her. She smiles now; a smile that makes the corners of her eyes crinkle. His smile.

“There's trouble in Dhaka,” Esme says, her eyes never leaving the baby, the smile never fading. But he sees the tension in her shoulders. He hears it in her voice. She's tried to pass the comment off so smoothly and naturally. But he hears it. Loud and clear.

He sighs. “I know.”

“Apparently it is some cronies of Asif. I guess we really shouldn't be surprised. It was bound to happen. Guys like that have an army of rats behind him. I guess those rats have been hiding long enough. They're back out scurrying around and chewing shit up.”

“That's Dhaka's problem to worry about. Not ours.”

“It won't be long until it's on our doorstep. Nik will call soon. Don't be surprised.”

“She can call all the fuck she wants. There's nothing I can do to help. Best I can do is train some guys and give out advice and come up with plans. That's where I'm at these days.”

Hardly the role he played in the past. But at least it was something. He least he wasn't crippled up somewhere. Or dead. At least he could bring home some kind of pay check and provide for his family.

“You're a hundred times better than you were a year ago. And she knows that. She'll expect more from you.”

“Let her. I know my limits. I'm not the man I was a year ago. You think I'm close to it. I'm not. You have too much faith in me.”

“Well...” she sighs. “...someone has to have faith in you.”

And there it is. The honest to goodness truth. She's not saying it to be hurtful. He knows that. She's saying it because he needs to hear it.

“Why are we even talking about this?” Tyler inquires, trying not to let the aggravation seep from his voice.

“Just making conversation.”

“Bullshit. If you were just making conversation, you'd talk about the book you were reading. Or where we're going to go for lunch. Or how you wish the baby was old enough to learn how to swim and surf. That's the kind of stuff you usually talk about.”

She drags her teeth against her bottom lip. The smile is gone now. Those eyes have darkened.

“What's going on?” he presses. “You're usually the one asking me that but now it's my turn. What's wrong?”

“Ovi messaged me,” her hand tightens around his. She doesn't look at him. “While you were at the gym this morning.”

Usually he's the one that Ovi is contacting. Texts. Emails. Facetime. She and the kid are tight, but nowhere near as tight as he is with Tyler. They lived thousands of miles away but they kept the bond alive. Ovi had followed every step of his medical journey and his rehab and his struggle to get back on his feet. He'd come to their wedding. Met their daughter through a live feed. He even liked to call himself 'Uncle Ovi'. And Tyler had taken him under his wing once again. This time providing him with the guidance and the nurturing that only a father can do for their teenage son. And he was the closest thing that kid had to a father.

Ovi Sr was very much still alive. But might as well have been very much dead.

“Why? Why would he message you?”

“I guess he was worried to message you about it. I guess he was worried how you'd react. That maybe you'd get mad that he even brought it up.”

“Instead you bring it up so I can get mad at you.”

She frowns “That's is not why I brought it up. I didn't want this turning into a fight, Tyler. I wasn't trying to make you mad.”

“I'm not mad,” he assures her. “Annoyed as fuck, but not mad.”

Sighing, she finally looks at him. And he hates what he sees. That haunted look that registers on every inch of her face. And he hates himself for being that one that put it there. And out of reassurance, he lifts their joined hands to his lips and presses a kiss to the inside of her wrist.

“He's worried,” she says. “He's been getting phone calls. Messages. Letters.”

“From who?”

“He doesn't know. He doesn't recognize the writing.”

“What do they say?”

“They're threats mostly. About watching his back. Needing eyes on the back of his head. How is big, bad bodyguard isn't around any more. I think they think you're dead.”

“Good. Let them think that.”

“He's worried, Tyler. He's scared. He's lost. He doesn't know what to do.”

“I'll call him later. I'll help him figure something out.”

“I told him that maybe he should come here, but he doesn't want to leave home. And he has friends and school and it wouldn't be fair to him to give all the up and come to Australia.”

“I said I'd figure something out. I always do.”

“I mean, he said he'd come here if he had to. But he doesn't want to be that far from his dad. Not like he has anything to do with his father, but still.”

“He already has guys watching him. I'll talk to Nik. Get a few more sent over there.”

“It won't matter how many she sends or how many are there. None of them are you.”

Fuck me, he thinks, and once more wishes for a drink. Something strong. Something powerful enough to wash down that uneasiness that sits in his throat. It settles in his chest; gnaws at his stomach.

“We're not talking about this,” he says. “Not here. Not now. Not ever.”

“He's in trouble, Tyler. You can't ignore that.”

“Didn't you hear me the first time? I said I'd get Nik to send more guys there. We're not going down this road. We're not talking about this.”

“You're the only one he trusts. That he fully trusts.”

“Is this really the hill you want to die on? I love you and I'd lay down my life for you. In a heartbeat. But you need to stop. Stop while you're ahead. Because this is a rabbit hole you do not want to fall down.”

“You can try and push this way. You can try and push me away. But this is happening. This is a real threat. Real trouble. And he trusts you, Tyler. He needs you.”

“And I love that kid like my own. You know that. But you know who also needs me? You know who needs me more than he does? My family. My wife. My child. They need me way more than he does. And I'm not fucking good to either of you when I'm thousands of miles away.”

“I didn't say you have to go alone.”

He gives an incredulous laugh. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? Are you listening to yourself? Are you hearing what you're saying? This is fucking ridiculous,” he huffs, and yanking his hand out of hers, attempts to get to his feet. But she grabs him by the forearm with a surprising amount of strength and forces him to sit back down.

“We ARE having this conversation,” her voice is low. Eyes narrowed. “We ARE talking about this. Because it damn well needs to be talked about. Now. Not later. Because you damn well know that call is going to come. That Nik is going to call and she's going to say all the things I just said. And you'll listen to her. Because for some reason you seem to ignore me but listen to her.”

“Don't start that shit. She's your friend. Just because her and I had a thing a long time ago, doesn't mean fuck all now. That's the past. You're the present. The future. So don't be bringing petty, childish shit into this. Into our marriage. Don't play those fucking games with me. You've got the wrong guy for that shit.”

“She's going to call. And she's going to say everything I just did. And you know what, Tyler? She'll be right. Just like I am. You can try and ignore this. You can try and pretend that you don't care. But I know you. Better than you know yourself half the time. And if I didn't think this was serious...if I didn't think there was real trouble...I wouldn't bring this up at all. But Ovi needs you.”

“What can I do for him? Huh? What the fuck can I do? Look at me. I mean really look at me. Past that fucking vision you have of me that you can't seem to let go of. That man...that man you first met...he's dead. He's gone. I can't help him. I can barely help you. Or our daughter.”

“Now who is talking shit?” she retorts. “You need to stop this, Tyler. You need to stop beating yourself up like this. You're the bravest man I've ever known. The strongest I've ever met. Look how far you've come. Look at how well you're doing. If anyone can help, it's you. It's what you do. You help people.”

“When I'm not fucking people up and killing them, you mean?”

“You can't pretend that side of you never existed,” she argues. “You can't pretend that he isn't still inside of you. It's possible, you know. To be this Tyler and THAT Tyler.”

“I cross that line again, I might not be able to cross back. And then what? I become the old Tyler and this life is over. Could you really live with that guy? Be married to him? Have a family with him? Any normal future? Why the hell would you want to?”

“Maybe because I love you, you insufferable pain in the ass. Maybe because I knew the old Tyler. That's the Tyler I fell in love with. The Tyler that reeled me in. And this Tyler...the Tyler you are now...that's just a bonus. But I don't pretend that the other Tyler never existed. He isn't dead to me. He's very much alive. And you know he is. Why do you fight it?”

“Because that isn't who I want to be any more,” he snarls. “That isn't the man I want to be. I want to be a better man. For you.”

“And you are. But I need that old Tyler. And so does Ovi.”

“Jesus fucking Christ...” he mutters, and puts a hand to his forehead as he closes his eyes. He tries to calm himself. Long, slow, deep breaths that he exhales slowly. “I can not believe we are actually talking about this.”

“I figured it would be the best time do it. When you were relaxed and calm and...”

“Don't you think something should have told you that this was the wrong fucking place? The wrong fucking time?” he doesn't even try to bite back the vehemence on his tongue. “This couldn't wait? Until we were home? You had to do this here? Like what the fuck?”

Silence falls between them. He can't remember the last time that a silence was this uncomfortable between them. They rarely fought other than the stupid shit that couples quarrel over. And he very rarely raised his voice towards her. Normally he could walk away before it got that far. But now he felt helpless. Cornered. The last bit of control slipping through his fingers.

“This is bullshit,” he grumbles, and sips at the Gatorade He can't look at her. He just can't. The rage is too raw. And it absolutely disgusts him that he feels that way towards her. “Why would you do this?” his voice is low as his eyes survey the horizon. The sparkling blue water, the clouds that hang low in the sky, the people that frolic in the surf. “Why the hell would you bring this up? Not just here. But at all.”

“I wouldn't have brought it up if it wasn't serious,” she sounds like she's going to cry. Or strangle him. Maybe even both. “Tyler...please...please look at me...”

“I can't,” fuck he hates himself. He despises feeling this way. Especially towards her. “I just can't.”

“You have to. Please. Please look at me.”

He inhales a sharp breath and then exhales solely before turning to look at her. Keeping those sunglasses on so she can't see the tears that threaten. Tears of anger. Frustration. Regret. So many emotions that he detests.

“He needs you, Tyler. Ovi needs you.”

“I can't help him. You know that. What the hell do you expect me to do?”

“I expect you do what you need to do. You were a mercenary. You still are. That part is never going to disappear. No matter how hard you try. “

“I can't go down that road again. I can't. I have too much to lose.”

“You aren't going to lose us. I'm not going anywhere. She's not going anywhere. We're in this together. The three of us.”

“I'm not putting you in danger. Not again. Especially not now. We have a family. We have a baby. That needs us. That isn't a life she deserves to be dropped into it. She's just a baby.”

“And she trusts you. I trust you. With my life. With both of our lives. You have to do this Tyler. And I think you know that. And deep down I think you want to.”

“I can't lose you. I can't lose her. I just can't. I can't make those mistakes again.”

“I'm not your ex wife Tyler. And she isn't your son. You have to stop letting that eat you up. You can't change the past. You can't go back and change things. You just can't. And that guilt and that regret? It's only going to keep eating at you. Killing yourself isn't going to bring him back. And I know you'll never see yourself the way that I do. You're always going to think that I have too much faith in you. But I'm never going to hate you the way that you hate yourself. No matter how hard you try.”

He nods slowly, the words hitting home. It isn't the first time they'd had this conversation. But it's the first time she's been this brutally honest.

“Sometimes...” she draws in a shaky breath. “..sometimes I feel like I left you behind on that bridge. That you're here but I still lost you.”

“Well you didn't. And if you ask me, you're the one that's hanging onto this. You can't let it go. You just can't let it go, can you.” It's a statement more than a question.

“I don't know how you expect me to. I almost lost you. You almost died in my arms. How do I let that go?”

“You fucking remind yourself that I didn't die. That I'm here. You remind yourself until you're sick of hearing it. And then you remind yourself a million times more.”

“It's not that easy,” she shakes her head. “But I wish it was.”

He reaches for her. Yanking off her ball cap and tossing it to the ground, then laying a hand on the back of her head and pulling her into him. She nestles her face in the spot between his neck and his shoulder. That favourite little spot of hers that made her feel safe and warm. And he wraps both arms around slender body and presses a kiss to the top of her head.

“Loving her doesn't mean any you don't love him anymore,” she says,

“How did we get back onto this? Quit going back and forth with things. You're confusing the shit out of me.”

“I know it's what you think. You think because she's here and you love her as much as you do, it means that you're going to forget him. That you're love for him will somewhat diminish. He'd want you to move on, Tyler. He'd want you to be happy. You have so much love to give. I know you don't see yourself that way. But I do. And I bet he did too.”

He doesn't want to talk about it. Not here. Not ever, to be honest. But she is the one person he CAN talk about these things with. The one person that won't judge him. Who won't make him feel like an enormous prick for making the decisions that he did.

“He would have made a really good big brother,” he muses. “He would have loved her. And she would have loved him. I'm sure of it.”

It's a comforting thought. But the reality of the situation was that if his son hadn't died, his daughter more than likely wouldn't be here. And neither would Esme. His first marriage may have worked out. And he definitely wouldn't have been hell bent on destroying himself. There'd be no Nik. No Ovi. And there would have been no G, or the rest of the team, or Gaspar.

So many things would be different. And despite the pain and mistakes of the past, he quite enjoys where his life is now. A wife, a child, possibly more in the future. And they wouldn't be sitting here on this beach if he hadn't had made the decision to go to Afghanistan while his son was dying .

It is truly amazing how one decision can change the entire course of your future.

“You're suffocating me,” she mutters against him. Completely unaware of how tight his hold on her had actually been.

“That's for all the times you made me drink kale smoothies and watch chick flicks,” he teases, dropping a kiss on the top of her head and tousling her hair.

“I only made you drink smoothies because that's how I hid the Viagra,” she playfully retorts.

“Of all the things you know would wound me, you pick the worst one?” he pinches her in the side; tickling her until she's giggling hysterically, out of breath and struggling to get away. “What a bitch move. Going right for the manhood. Right for the juggler.”

“I guess I learned from the best,” she says, and then shrieks and elbows him in the gut when he pinches the flesh at her hip. “Don't be such a dick,” she pouts dramatically.

“I'd make a comment about my dick but you'll accuse me of being a pig and apparently you think I need Viagra so you're never getting the dick ever again.”

“And you say I go for the juggler. That's harsh, Tyler. That is super fucking harsh.”

He gets her in that sensitive spot right behind the knee. Squeezing what little flesh there is until she's flat on her back and using her feet in his gut to try and push him away. Until they're both laughing and passerbys are shooting them curious glances; some shaking their heads at the silliness from grown adults, others smiling along with them. And when he brings on of her feet to her face and bites at one of her toes, she gives a yelp that's loud enough to startle the baby from her nap.

“Now look what you've done,” Esme huffs, as she straightens her bathing suit. “You've woken the beast.”

“She's fine. And don't you talk about my daughter like that. She's a princess. Daddy's princess.”

“A princess who will be able to kick some major ass when she's older.”

“That's the plan,” confirms, and then lays down on his stomach alongside of the baby, resting a hand on her stomach. “Don't listen to that mean old lady. Calling you a beast like that. When she's the one that is a total bitch half the time.”

“Takes one to know one,” his wife shoots back, then lies down on her side across from him. Their tiny daughter safe and secure between them. Esme's hand comes to rest on his; thumb stroking his wrist and the base of his fingers. “Tell me everything is going to be okay, Tyler. Tell me that WE'RE going to be okay.”

“We will,” he promises. “We'll be fine.”

He only hopes he sounds more convincing to her ears than he does to his own

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me - Chapter 26

WARNINGS: mentions of PTSD, panic attacks, profanity

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​

They haven’t spoken since they left the house; a rather brief and terse conversation about where Millie had left not only her shoes, but the noise cancellation headphones she likes to use on trips out of town. That was twenty minutes ago; halfway into their drive to Port Douglas and not one single word has been exchanged, nor even a sidelong glance. They’re both on edge; the aftereffects of the long and exhausting night before, Esme’s brief yet intense battle with a PTSD ‘flare up’, and now the raw and anxious nerves surrounding the visit with Tyler’s father.

The nightmare plays on a continuous loop in his mind; the old man’s booming voice and vicious words, his mother’s tearful begging and pleading that only cease when the beating begins, Austin’s appearance as a grown man and his refusal to lave Millie behind. It’s all there; every vision, every sound. Even the feel of his heart breaking deep within his chest and the scalding sting of tears as they rolled down his face. And the cravings linger, his brain and body desperate for those old vices. The only coping mechanism he’s ever known or practiced. It’s the familiarity of the old life that he misses; not the dirty work or the blood on his hands but the escape the job had provided him with. He’d constantly been on the go; jumping from place to place, relying only on his skills –and his confidence in them- to get him through each day. He hadn’t had time to think; too busy trying to keep himself and others alive.  Now it seems as if he has all the time in the world to think. To dwell.  And it’s slowly tearing him apart inside. He knows he should be grateful for what he’s been given; a second chance at life, a normal existence surrounded by people who love him and depend on him. And he IS. Yet at the same time, the past won't leave him alone. It had been his way of life for half of his years on earth, and both his brain and his body are struggling to let go.

Guilt. So much guilt. Over the fact he just can’t it go. That he can’t leave the past where it belongs and be content with a normal existence. He’s one of the lucky ones; he’d gotten out of the game relatively healthy and with most of his sanity still intact. He was able to find someone to have a family with; someone that not only understood the hardships and the horrors of the job, but didn’t judge him for the things he’d done or the mistakes he made or the number of broken and often dead bodies he left in his wake. Tons of mercs would give anything to be in his shoes, they’d kill –figuratively and some probably literally- to get even a taste of love and happiness and domesticity.   And yet he was taking it all for granted and practically pissing it away.

He casts a glance through the rear view mirror. Millie with her earphones on, her face intense and her eyes riveted on whatever game or movie she has playing on the tablet in her lap; her baby sister fast asleep in the car seat beside her.  She’d forgiven him quickly. He’d sat down next to her on the patio and had never said a word; giving her the time and the space to brood and to get over her temporary hate for him. And in a matter of minutes she’d been climbing up into his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck and he in turn had been apologizing profusely for hurting her.   He’d never meant to pull her hair or yell at her afterwards; explaining that he had a lot of things on his mind and they were making him angry and anxious –and even sad- and that he never should have taken them out on her. And even though she’d held his face in her hands and kissed his cheeks and said “I still love you, daddy” in that little voice of hers, he had still felt like complete and utter shit for what he’d done.  

He looks over at his wife next; sitting with her elbow resting on the window ledge, her eyes closed with her palm pressed against the side of her face and two fingertips massaging her temple. The color has returned to face; she looks healthy again, vibrant. But her shoulders remain incredibly tense and her jaw tightly clenched.  

“It’s why you have a headache,” Tyler points out, and she glances at him out of the corner of her eye. “Your jaw. Clenching it like that. It’s why you feel like shit.”

He braces for it. A smart-ass comment or just a ‘fuck off, Tyler’, but neither come. Instead she gives a shaky smile and closes her eyes once more; thumb and forefinger moving up to rub at the bridge of her nose. But he notices her jaw relaxes and her shoulders drop slightly; it’s a good sign, he figures. She hasn’t told him where to go and how to get there and she’s finally starting to relax. So he takes it one step further, dropping a hand from the steering wheel and reaching across the middle console to lay it on her thigh. Feeling his own sense of relief when she doesn’t shoot him a dirty look or yank her leg away.  

“You look really nice,” he says, giving her a soft smile and squeezing her knees as he admires her simple cotton sundress. A light orange that reminds him of the tail end of the sunrise, with a neckline that sits off her shoulders and a hem that just skims the bottom of her knees.  It’s hard sometimes; finding just the right words, even when it comes to the simplest of comments or what should be the easiest of compliments. He knows what he wants to say but doesn’t always know how to get the thought across. Usually he’ll rely on body language and facial expressions; she’s always been on expert on reading them, right from the start.  That second morning in Dhaka when she’d told him that his eyes did all the talking for him.

Her eyes open once more and this time she turns her face towards him and gives a smile of her own. Then lays her hand on top of his own and pushes her fingers through his.  

“I didn’t mean it,” he says. “What happened with Millie. I didn’t mean to pull her hair. It was an accident. My mind completely wandered and...”

“You know what’s not what upset her, right?” Esme gently interjects. “It’s not that you pulled her hair. She knew you didn’t mean to do it. It’s that you yelled at her. You hurt her feelings. You scared her.”

“I didn’t mean to do THAT either.”

“What’s going on with you? First last night, now freaking out on Millie.”

“I had a nightmare. I’ve had nightmares before.”

“I’m not talking about the nightmare. I’m talking about other things. When we were...you know...” she peeks over her shoulder, making sure that Millie isn’t paying attention. She’s fallen asleep; her head resting on the side of her booster seat, hair falling over her face and those long, dark lashes brushing against the tops of her cheeks.  “You were rough,” Esme continues. “And I’m not talking about your usual rough. The rough that I like. I mean like hard core rough. It wasn’t you, Tyler. It was...I don’t know...scary.”

He doesn’t know what to say. Or if she even wants him to say anything. At first, he’d thought it was all part of the game she likes to play; how she gets when she’s egging him on to be aggressive and manhandle her. It wasn’t uncommon for there to be pain involved; hair pulling, choking, bite marks and bruises left behind. It hadn’t even occurred to him that her resistance and her fighting back were genuine; not until she’d started to cry, and he realized that not only were the tears real, but so was the fear in her eyes. Suddenly it wasn’t a game anymore and he felt sick. That he could ever cause that kind of reaction in her when he’d spent years doing everything in his power to protect her.

“I know we joked about this morning,” she says. “But that? Last night? That was not you. That wasn’t even Dhaka Tyler. I don’t know who that was.”

He swallows heavily. There’s bile sitting square in his throat and he’s not sure he wants to vomit or cry.  “I said I was sorry.” Tt sounds lame, even to his own ears.  

“I don’t want you to say you’re sorry. I want you tell me what’s going on. And don’t say nothing. Because it’s been building and building. For days. You’re like this wire that’s being pulled too tight and you’re ready to snap. Things were fine. Things were good. So good. Is it us? Is there was the real issues? You’re not happy and you don’t want there to be an ‘us’ anymore?”

“What?” He can’t help the incredulous laugh that escapes. Of all the fucking things she’d think, that is the most ridiculous. At least in his eyes. “Baby, you know that’s not it. That it’s not us. You and I are the only thing that’s NOT going to shit right now.”

“Then what is it?” she presses. “I know you, Tyler. Better than you know yourself most of the time. I know there’s more going on than you’re telling me. What is it?”

“It’s everything,” he admits. “Every single fucking thing. It’s Ovi and it’s Nik and it’s Millie’s birthday and it’s my father and it’s...everything.”

“Then tell Nik you’re not doing it. Call her and tell her you changed your mind. That she needs to find someone to train him. Because if it’s going to tear you apart like this...”

“I can’t. I can’t back out now. I bailed on her once. I can’t do it again.”

“Fuck Nik. You did what you had to do to keep your sanity and come home to your family. You CAN back out. And you need to know if you feel you can’t do it or if it’s only going to make things worse for you. Stop being so fucking stubborn and like yourself for once. Jesus Christ. Why do you do this? Why do you not care about what you’re going through?”

“I have to do it,” Tyler insists. “It’s Ovi, I can’t let him down. No matter how pissed off I am. No matter how much I want to fucking strangle him. If I don’t help and something happens to him, I’ll never forgive myself. And that’ll be a hundred times worse than what I’m going through right now.”

“I don’t want you doing this if it’s going to break you, if it’s only going to tear you apart from the inside out. I don’t want that happening to you. Because there’s six people that you need you, Tyler. Whether you think we do or not. I do not want this destroying you.”

“I just need to get through it,” he reasons. “I just need to bust his ass and hope it either breaks him and he gives up, or that I did a good enough job to keep him alive.”

“And if you have to go in and get what? What then?”

“Then I pray I don’t fuck up and I make it home.”

“Well that’s reassuring,” she mutters, then inhales deeply and exhales slowly, grip on his hand tightening. And minutes pass before she speaks again. “Do you miss it?” she asks, her eyes focused on the road ahead. “The job. Do you miss it? I want you to be honest with me. I want you tell me the truth even if it’s going to hurt. Even if you know I’m going to hate what I hear.”

“Esme...”

“Tyler,” her tone is firm. No nonsense. “Tell me the truth. Because lying about it will only make it worse. For both of us. Do you miss it?”

“Sometimes,” he admits.

“How often is sometimes?”

Sighing, he releases the hold on her hand and scratches at the back of his head. A nervous habit. “Lately? Every day.”

“Wow...” her eyes widen, and she nods slowly. “...I was not expecting THAT.”

He’s immediately on the defensive. “You wanted me to tell you. You told me to tell you the truth. So I am. You...”

“Every day, though? Every day for how long?”

“A couple weeks. Maybe more. A month at the most.”

She blinks in disbelief. “A month? A fucking month? Addie isn’t even a month old You’re telling me that I was still pregnant with her...trying to keep her inside of me so she’d stand a chance if she was born too early...and that entire time you were missing the job? While I’m trying to keep your daughter safe and alive, you were thinking about THAT? Are you fucking kidding me right now?!”

“I don’t want to fight,” he keeps his voice and calm and even, despite the fact he feels every remaining of control being chipped away. “You told me to tell you the truth and that’s what I’m doing.”

“I mean I expected you to miss it and a hard time giving it up. But a month? You’ve been away from it for half a goddamn year. So five months you were fine and now all of a sudden...”

“It’s just because of Ovi. If he’d never come to me with that shit....”

“That was a week ago. Not a month ago. What explains the three weeks before he said anything? Are you serious right now, Tyler? What the fuck?!”

“I don’t know what more you want me to say. Do you want me to say I’m sorry? That it makes me sick that I miss it? That I fucking hate myself for even thinking about it? Is that what you want to hear? That I feel like a shit human being because of it?”

“I want you to hear you say that you don’t want to go back to it!”

“I didn’t say that’s what I wanted. I said I missed it sometimes.”

“What is there to miss? Getting stabbed? Getting shot? Getting fucked over by guys like Mahajan? Killing people?”

“No,” he scowls. “I don’t miss that. What the fuck? Is that what you think of me? That that’s who I am? That I enjoy that shit?”

“Then what the hell is it? Because it didn’t end well, Tyler. It didn’t end well in New Zealand and it sure as hell didn’t end well in Dhaka. What is there to miss?”

He struggles to keep his composure.   “Esme, I don’t want to fight. Can we do this later? Can we not wait until we get home to talk about this? Can we just get this visit out of the goddamn way before talking about anything else? I just want to get to my dad’s, stay for a bit, and then leave. Then we can talk about whatever you want.”

“A month? A fucking month?”

“Esme...stop...please...I don’t want to fight.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before? Why didn’t...”

“I said I don’t want to fucking fight!”  He roars, and his foot slams down on the brake. Bringing the truck to an abrupt and violent halt in the middle of the backwoods country road; tires crunching on stones and gravel, sending plumes of dust and dirty swirling and dancing around them. His chest feels impossibly tight; his heart races and his lungs with every breathe he tries to draw in.  He’s dizzy, nauseous; sweat gathers across his forehead and at his temples and back of his neck. And he’s suddenly aware of how hard he’s gripping the steering wheel; knuckles turning white and cracking, wounds reopening.

*****

“Tyler...”

He’s vaguely aware of the hand on his bicep and the sound of her voice; urgent and concerned. It seems as if she’s far away; distorted and muffled, as if he’s underwater and can’t quite make out what she’s saying to him. And as the pressure in his chest builds, it becomes fight of flight. He chooses the latter; throwing the truck into park and reaching for his seat belt, fingers numb and hands trembling as he struggles with the release. Frustration sets in; profanities slipping from parched lips, hot, bitter tears streaming down his cheeks.

He feels as if he’s on auto-pilot, no longer in control of his actions. And the gravel cracks and pops under his feet as he finally escapes, fresh air feeling as if it’s scalding his already aching as he draws it in large, choking gulps. Wobbling slightly with each step he takes, hands on his hips as he repeatedly paces the length of the truck. The simple counting begins to settle him; one foot in front of the other, reciting the number of steps in his head. The same way he had almost seven years ago on the Sultana Kamal Bridge. When he’d first stepped onto its war zone and began that long and tedious journey to freedom. He’d been in agonizing pain; quickly losing blood, growing weaker with each inch, yet continuing to advance. Spurred on by what he had waiting for him once he finally made it.  

And then Saju’s dead body and the sniper and his useless right leg forcing him to drag himself to safety. A tearful Ovi at his side, begging him to get up.

Dhaka. Fuck. Fucking Dhaka. It makes the panic build again. Makes it all so seem real; like he’s right there again. Tasting his blood in his mouth and feeling that absence of strength and hope. But he hadn’t been ready to give up just yet. Because he had something...someone...to lose and was going to fight for them. And there’d been that glimmer of hope; when he’d gunned down those last two assailants and limped his way towards the finish line. But that little bastard Farhad had shot him from behind and...

Fuck Farhad. Fuck Dhaka. Fuck Amir and Gaspar.  

He forces all thought and memory of it out of his mind; closing his eyes as he leans back against the grill of the truck. Concentrating on better things...happier things. Getting married, experiencing the birth of his ‘rainbow baby’ and all the others that came after her. Reminding himself that he has people who love him. Unconditionally. That rely on him and depend on him and make him want to be a better man. He would have given up a long ago; had he NOT had them. If Esme hadn’t have been there when he woke up in the hospital nearly seven years ago.

His breathing has returned to normal and the dizziness and nausea nonexistent when he hears one of the doors open behind him. The sudden press of her shoulder against his is comforting; it grounds him. Brings him back to the here and now. She’s done this before; talked him down from many a ledge. And he has no idea why she sticks around and keeps giving him chance after chance, but he’s thankful she does.

“Hold your daughter, Tyler,” she says, as Addie lays along her arm. “Hold her and feel how real she is. Feel that she’s here. That YOU’RE here. Not wherever your brain is telling you you are.”

“I can’t. Not like this. What if I hurt her? What if I...”

“Take her,” Esme insists, and he relents, bringing that baby...HIS baby...up to his chest; one hand on the back of her head, a forearm under the bum. She’s so tiny...so light...so fragile.  So perfect and pure. And he places his nose against the side of her head; feeling her hair against his skin, taking in the soft scent that clings to her clothing and hair, feeling her warm and the beat of her heart against him.

“That’s your reason,” Esme tells him. “Your purpose. Why you have to keep fighting and not let this destroy you.”

The tears come again, a mixture of shame and guilt. That he can have so much but not even realize it or appreciate it. That he was even given these things in the first place. All the bed decisions, all the blood on his hands...

“I’m sorry.” he manages. “I am so fucking sorry.”

“For what?” Her hand is on his back, resting between his shoulders. He can’t bring himself to look at her; afraid of what he’ll see her eyes. Disgust. Disappointment. Regret. “What are you sorry for?” she asks.

“Everything. Everything fucking things. All the shit I’ve put you through. That I STILL keep putting you through. I fucking hate myself for it.”

“I know you do. And I don’t' want you to. You have no reason to hate yourself.”

“Dhaka.” He says simply.  

“Dhaka has nothing to do with this. I’ve told  you a million times that I don’t blame you for how things went. You did everything you could that day. For Ovi. For me. It was out of your control. There was nothing more you could have done. You don’t think I realize that?”

“On the bridge. You shouldn't have had to do what you did.”

“That’s not your fault either. I don’t blame you for what I had to do or what I saw. I don’t you responsible for that. And I sure as hell don’t hate you. What will it take to make you realize that? To stop all that guilt and all that blame and all that hate for yourself. What more do you need me to say? Because I’ll say it. Whatever you need to hear, I will tell you.”

“I don’t know,” Tyler admits. “I just don’t fucking know.”

“This has to stop. The way you shouldn’t try to deal with every goddamn thing on your own. Stop keeping shit inside and letting it eat you alive.”

“Why do even stay with me?” he asks. “When I’m such a fucking mess?”

“Because I love you. Because you’re my husband and my lover and my confidant and my best friend. Because you have a huge heart and you’re a good man that was forced to do terrible things.”

“But my brain...”

“Is troubled and beautiful and it’s going to be okay. You’re not only in this Tyler. Stop acting like you are. Let me help you. Let me love you. Please.”

Esme curls her arm around his waist and rests her head against his arm, and for several minutes never of them speak. And eventually the tears subside, and he takes a long, shaky breath and places his lips against the side of Addie’s head.  

“Are you okay?” she asks, and presses a series of light, feathery kisses to his shoulder.

“Yeah...I’m okay.”

“We should just go home. You can call your dad’s and tell them that something came up and reschedule. I don’t think...”

“I’m fine. I told Millie I’d do this for her.”

“You know,” Esme muses. “You’re going to have to eventually say no to her. She's going need to learn about disappointment at some point in time.”

“Not today though. Let’s just do this. For her. Okay?”

“Okay. Do you want me to drive or...”

“You are NOT driving my truck,”

She smirks. “I think you love your truck more than me some days.”

“There’s nothing I love more than you.”

She smiles at that, and he kisses her softly. “I’ve driven your truck before,” she reminds him.

“And I’ve had it every time. You know how long it takes me to reset everything? Mirrors? Seat? I get in and my knees are up by my ears.”

“I have little legs! I can’t help it. Just because you’re absurdly tall...”

“Have you ever considered I’m normal height and you’re absurdly short?”

“You’re not normal height,” she laughs.  “Not even close to it. You’re all legs and torso. And so are you kids. Well, except for this little nugget,” she smiles down at Addie. “This one is all me.”

“Poor kid.”

“Hey!” she objects and pinches his side. “That’s not nice!”

Tyler grins. “Can we still be friends?”

“Maybe. Depends how you make it up to me.”

“I’ll buy you tacos for lunch.”

“That’ll do,” she says, and stands on her tip toes to kiss him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

He nods.

“I just want you to be healthy, Tyler. That’s all I want. Because I love you and I worry about you and I don’t anything happening to you. You need to stop torturing yourself so much about Dhaka. I’ve never blamed you. Or hated you. What happened is not your fault. I need you to realize that.”

“I’ll try,” he promises. “I’ll try remembering that.”

“You saved my life. Not just there. In general. In every way a person CAN be saved. Don’t ever forget that.”

“I love you,” he says, and kisses her once more. “So much.”

“I love you too. Which is why I stay. Don’t ever ask me that again.”

“I won’t.”

She presses a kiss to his shoulder and rubs the middle of this back. “When you’re ready,” she says, and gives him a small smile before returning to the truck.

He wonders if he ever will be. Ready. If he’ll be able to truly let the past go.

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary -Chapter 50

Warnings: none really

Tags: @alievans007, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @thunderintheshadows​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @valkyrie-of-the-light​

Face Claim for Esme’s brother Kyle: Taylor Kinney

“You know,” Kyle says, as he parks his truck in front of their mother's home.  Nik's already arrived; standing at the side of the Lincoln Navigator, flanked by her two security specialists while speaking to Michelle. Sunglasses still covering her eyes, a hand on her cocked hip. “You don't have to stay here. You could always just come and hang out at my place until Tyler gets back.”

“You live in a one bedroom apartment,” Esme reminds him. “There's going to be four kids, Ovi and his girlfriend, Nik and her people....”

“So I take you back to your place and stay there with you,” he suggests. “Keep an eye on things. Spend time with the kids when they get back. Help you out. I've got some vacation time owed to me and I know I could pull some strings and get some immediate time off.”

“K, as tough and as bad ass as you are, these people that are after Tyler aren't the kind you want to be messing with. Trust me. So as much as I appreciate you wanting to help out and wanting me to be comfortable, this is unfortunately the best of a bad situation.”

He smirks. “When mom is the best of a bad situation, that's when you know the situation is FUBAR'D.”

She gives a snort. “Definitely FUBAR'D.”

“Try not to let her get to you. I know it's hard. Trust me, I know. She's going to be losing her shit as soon as you walk into that house. She's going to drag Tyler through the mud and you know it.  She's been just raging him about him since you said you were coming home. And like I said, she's already got names and numbers of divorce lawyers.

Esme shakes her head. “Why does she have to be like this? Why can't she just give him a break? Why can't she just see him the way I see him? The way you see him, even. You don't hate him.”

“Never did. I was a little pissed that my little sister ran off with some strange guy and decided to stay half way around the world. But you're an adult and you can do whatever the hell you want. No matter how stupid I think you are. I wasn't going to hold it against him because you made the choices you did. It's not his fault you think your p...”

She slugs him in the shoulder. Hard. “Don't you even finish that sentence!”

“Heart. I was going to say heart.”

“Like hell you were. And maybe at first I did think with my...well you know...” she nods down at her lap. “...but that's not all it was, okay?”

“Well obviously. Or you wouldn't have married the guy and had four kids. Or is it four and a half now? Four and a quarter?”

“You can be a real shit head.”

“But I'm a lovable shit head. And the best big brother.”

“Considering the other ones are all assholes, you don't have much competition,” she teases.

“That's harsh, Esme. Way harsh. Look, I'm glad things worked out with you and Tyler. That the guy actually survived what he did and you two ended up together and I ended up having all those kids I get to spoil the shit out of. I've never hated him. And I don't hate him now that I know who he really is.”

“He's still Tyler, K. He's still the Tyler you know. Being a mercenary doesn't change that. There's job Tyler and there's Tyler. And I need you to realize that and accept it. Because I love you, but I love him more. And if you can't accept him now that you know, then....” she shrugs. “....I don't know.  Maybe it means you don't come around anymore. Maybe you become nothing more than another person to send Christmas cards to.”

“You can't get rid of me that easily, kid,” he playfully tousles her hair. “I'm freaked out by what  you told me,” he admits. “It's not every day you learn your brother in law is a soldier for hire. But, I know how much he loves you. How good he's been for you. And I know how much he loves those kids. So if you're cool with it and you can accept this whole job Tyler and normal Tyler thing, than so can I. Okay?” he taps the end of his index finger against the tip of her nose. “Are you sure you want to do this? I could find room at my place for everyone.”

“As much as I appreciate the offer, your bachelor pad slash den of inequity is not the place I want my children spending too much time in. I'll be okay. And if she really gets on my nerves, I can always punch her in the throat.”

He grins. “Remember that time you kneed the older kid in the face on the playground because he was picking on one of your friends? What were you? Like eight?”

She nods. “And he was in grade six. Tommy Chambers. That ignorant little fucker.”

“You busted up his nose real good. Embarrassed the shit out of him., too. Remember how his mom came to the house after school? Totally freaking out when dad answered the door. Ranting and raving about his kid fucking up hers and just going on and on and on.  You should have seen her face when dad told her that it was his eight year old did it. And not just any eight year old. His eight year old daughter. Lady about nearly shit her pants.  I know you got in deep shit over that, but I'd honestly never seen dad so proud of you as he did at that moment.”

She smiles at the memory. “I miss him. Even now.”

“Yeah, so do I. It's been a long time.”

She nods.

“You've done good, kid. With your life. Regardless of what mom says. Dad would be proud of you. I'm not so sure how he'd handle the whole 'my son in law is a mercenary thing', but he'd like Tyler. I know he would. He would have given him a chance. Probably would have called him Crocodile Dundee.”

Esme laughs at that.

“Remember how much he loved that movie? Tyler would have gotten so sick of that and wanted to punch him in the face.”

“He would have put up with it, though. He's been called a lot worse, believe me.”

“Yeah, you've got quite the gutter mouth on you when you get going.  Guy's got a foot and almost a hundred pounds on you and you just light into him and he takes it.”

“I wasn't talking about me, you asshole!” she uses her thumb and index finger to flick him in the earlobe.

“See? That's what I mean. You're feisty. You don't take shit. From anyone. That's why you guys work so well together. He can handle you. Not like that first prick you married,”  he looks up the windshield at where a clearly agitated and unamused Nik is still listening to their mother rant and rave. “Can't believe someone that looks like her would be with someone like Mark. Guy's a troll. First my sister and now her? What the hell is that about?”

“You should get out there and rescue her from the Wicked Witch of the Mid-West. I know how you can't resist flexing your muscles and playing the firefighter card for damsels in distress.”

“Something tells me she is far from being a damsel in distress. Something tells me she could totally kick my ass.”

“Oh, she definitely could. But I know you and I know that makes you even more interested.”

He grins. “You're not wrong.”

“Seriously, go,” she jabs her elbow into his ribs, pushing his towards his door. “Go and rescue her from such torment and torture. No one deserves what mom can unleash. Get out there and go and give her that smile of yours and let her see those pretty blue eyes. No woman can resists those eyes. Not even Nik.”

“She's a hard sell?”

Esme nods. “Just a bit.”

“Perfect,” his grin broadens. “You know I love a good challenge.”

“Then do it!” she encourages her brother. “Get out there and introduce yourself and impress her with your boyish charm and all your muscles. Go! Or I will drag you over there and throw you at her feet.”

“Like some kind of sexual offering to a goddess,” he muses.

“Would you go, you fuck head!” Esme laughs. “Go out there and get mom away from her.  You're a great catch. Even Nik will see that. And think of it this way, if you can manage to land Nik, that's a total kick in the nuts to Mark. And I know how much you love Mark.”

“It would be nice to get one last shot in at the guy. I didn't get nearly enough shots in when I beat him up in front of that hooker.”

“Then go! Go and charm her, Romeo. You can do it. I have faith in you. She needs a good guy. A normal guy. And you're as close to normal as anyone I know of, so...”

“What about your bags? I need to...”

“You can get them afterwards. There's no rush. Would you just do it? She's worth it, K. Way worth it. And I've heard she's quite the wild one in the sack. She could give you a run for your money.”

“Yeah? Think so?”

“Go!” she orders. “Before I call her over here and totally embarrass you in front of her.  I'm not going in yet, anyway. I have to call Tyler first.”

“No phone sex in my truck!” he orders, as he tosses open the driver's side door.

“He wanted me to call when I got here so he knows I'm safe. Get your mind out of the gutter. You can put it back in there when you get Nik alone.”

“I won't be putting my mind in the gutter if that happens. I'll be putting something else in there.”

“You're a pig! Don't make me regret suggesting this! Get out there. Make me proud.”

“You're my favourite sister, just so you know,”  he says, giving her a wink before climbing out of the truck and shutting the door behind him.

The shrill ring of his personal cell phone tears Tyler from his sleep. He's still fully clothed, including boots, in the middle of the bed; flat on his stomach, a forearm tucked under the pillow his face rests again. At first he's startled; disoriented even. The room is dark aside from the moonlight that streams through the patio doors, and his brain doesn't immediately register...or remember, for that matter...why the bed is empty beside him. It causes a brief moment of panic; head snapping up, furtively glancing around the dark room, about to call out to her when all of his senses return and it occurs to him that he's alone. That she's thousands of miles away. And it's all his fault.

His cell rests on her pillow and he blindly reaches for it, using his free hand to wipe sleep out of his eyes as he answers the call on the fourth ring.

“Yeah?”

“Hey,” her voice is tired, but there's a enough cheerfulness to it that eases some of the guilt he's been feeling.

“Hey,” he presses the heel of his palm into one of his eyes, anxious to rid of himself of that last little bit of lingering fogginess.

“Did I wake you up?”

“I must have dozed off.”

“Are you alone?”

“Why wouldn't I be?”

“Thought maybe you'd had a wild night at a peeler bar and brought back a stripper,” she teases. “Or you only do things like that when you're in Russia?”

He grins. “It was actually Serbia. But Yaz doesn't understand geography. And no. There's no stripper here. I already sent her home.”

She laughs at that. And it's music to his ears. “You're lucky I know you're being a smart ass. And you're also lucky I love you as much as I do.”

“Yeah,” he smiles. “I am.”

“What time is it there?”

He glances towards the digital clock on the nightstand. “Midnight.”

“I didn't mean to wake you up,” her voice is apologetic.

“It's okay,” he assures her, and rolls over onto his back.  The agony isn't as intense as it usually is; he's been religiously taken the pain meds -as prescribed- and it's managed to keep things dull and bearable. And the Valium for his PTSD has kept the anxiety and most of the hyper-vigilance under control;  mellowing him without making him feel like a zombie. “It was a long night. I didn't get in until ten thirty.  Must have just lied down, planning to just close my eyes, and fell asleep.”

“Where were you?” she inquires, and he knows what she's asking.

“We gave McMann to the IRA tonight.  It was time to hand him over. Whatever happens to him now, it's in their hands. And no, I didn't actually go into the storage place. I waited outside. I would have stayed away entirely, but they wouldn't take him unless I was the one to give him to them, so...”

“I understand,” she says, and it's genuine. “Are you okay?”

“I'm better.”

“Good. I was worried about you.”

“When don't you worry about me? I'm okay.  I miss you. But I'm okay.”

“I miss you, too.  I didn't think I'd miss you this much, this fast.”

Tyler grins. “I guess I should be flattered.”

“Yeah,” she laughs. “You should. I don't get all weepy over just any man, you know.”

“But, I'm not just any man.”

“No,” she agrees. “You're not. You never have been. You make the quite impression, Tyler Rake. In more ways that one. You're not just a pretty face.”

He chuckles at that.  “How's things going there?”

“I haven't actually gone inside yet. I'm still sitting in the truck. Trying to prepare myself for my mother's bullshit. Apparently she's already googled divorce lawyers and has all the numbers written out.”

“Well, as long as you're not planning on using any of them...”

“We are far from that stage,” she assures him.  “We are, right? Far from that stage?”

“I already told you, you're stuck with me. Right until the bitter end. You're not getting rid of me and I'm not getting rid of you. You're not getting rid of me, are you?”

“Never,” she declares.

“Tell her to fuck off. Or better yet, I'll call her and tell her to fuck off. I thought maybe things were better between us, after our little talk, but I guess not. She knows how to hold a grudge, that's for sure. Now I know where you get it from.”

“She isn't holding a grudge. She's being a bitch. She has no reason to hold a grudge against you. You haven't done anything wrong.”

“I seduced her precious, innocent daughter. Knocked her up. When we weren't even married yet.”

“I guess I shouldn't tell her that I let you choke me and pull my hair while you were seducing me.”

“Not unless you want to have her totally lose her last shred of sanity. Not that that would be a bad thing. We could lock her away somewhere. Completely ignore her. Never have to worry or think about her ever again.”

“Or we could just move back to Australia. That way she wouldn't be able to just show up on our doorstep.”

“Where'd that come from? Talking about moving back there?”

“I've been thinking about it,” she admits. “A lot. That things were so much simpler when we lived there. It's more laid back and the people are friendly and it's a better place to raise kids. We were happier there.  You were happier there.”

“I'm happy in Colorado. I'm happy wherever you are. Wherever the kids are. You know that. And it was my idea to move to Colorado in the first place, remember? It's not like you forced me to move there.  I'm the one that brought it up and practically forced you into it. So...”

“You're happy here, but you're nowhere near as happy as you were in Australia. It's your home, Tyler.”

“And Colorado is your home,” he points out.

“It stopped being my home a long ago. I didn't even want to come here in the first place. But we needed a change of pace and a change of scenery and I've tried my best to like it here. I really have. But I don't want to be here. I want to go back. To Australia.”

“Babe, going back there won't make things like they were five and a half years ago. Just because we go back doesn't mean things will go back the way they were.  It doesn't work like that.”

“But we'll be happier,” she says. “Away from my family. Both of us were so much happier when we were thousands of miles away from their shit We had our own life and we didn't worry about all the crap that goes on here. IT was just and me and Millie and it was perfect.”

“It's not just you and me and Millie anymore,” Tyler reminds her.

“The kids would thrive here. You know they would. There's good schools here and we could live in a small town. Close to the beach. That's your happy place.”

“You're my happy place.”

“You can't deny that things were better when we lived there. That we were both so much happier. We were more relaxed, we had less stress, we didn't worry about the shit we worry about here. It's a different way of live down there. And that's the way of life I want back. That I want for my kids. And for you. I just want you to be happy, Tyler.”

“I am happy. With you and my kids. You know that.”

“But you'd be even happier if we moved back. You know you would. I don't want you thinking I'm just saying this for you. We need this. Our marriage needs this. We need to go back to where we were the happiest. Where things seemed so much easier. And it will be better for the kids. We'll be happier, less stressed, there will be less tension in the house. They feel all of that. And I'd rather they didn't. You can't tell me that you wouldn't go back. I know you would. I know you miss it, Tyler. It's your home. You spent thirty six years there. And then you gave that up because you thought being here would make me happy. And it has. But not as happy as I was when we were in Australia.”

“Esme, if that's really what you want...”

“You need to want it too. This isn't just about me. You need to want to go back. Do you want? Want to go back?”

“Yeah,” he admits. “I do.”

“Then let's just do it. Let's just go. We can put the house here on the market. Or maybe even Kyle could take it over. Let's go pack up and go back.”

'Babe, it's not that easy. We have four kids. One on the way. We can't just pack up and leave. We have to plan things. We need a place to live before we move back there. I'm not doing the hotel thing again. Not with four kids and one on the way. When I get home, we'll look at places online. And we'll make plans. We can't just pack shit up and go. Maybe if it was just us. Or if we just had Millie. But things have changed since then. A lot of things have changed.”

“And money,” she sighs. “It's not like we have a lot.”

“Actually, we don't have to worry about that any more. Money.”

“What do you mean? What...?”

“The IRA paid me. And they paid me big. For getting McMann and handing him over.”

“Big as in?”

“Five million dollars.”

“Jesus Christ!” she shrieks.  “What? Tyler, are you serious?”

“I am dead serious.”

“But why? Why so much? Why?”

“Flynn just handed me a check. Told me to retire and take care of my wife and my kids.  I didn't even look at until I got back to the hotel. All he said was that they appreciated me busting my ass to get McMann and be so willing to hand him over. That they take care of the people who do them a solid. That's all he said.”

“But that much? Five million dollars?!

“I guess that's what a guy like McMann is worth. So money isn't a problem. That's the last thing you need to worry about now. The last thing we need to worry about. I can walk away for good and know that I can take care of my family. I don't even need to take that other job Nik offered. I can just get out of this entirely and we can leave and never look back. If that's what you want.”

“It's what I want,” she says.  

“When I get home, we'll start planning everything. Tomorrow I'm going to the bank and I'm going to put the money into our account. I thought I should tell you before you went to take money out and saw the balance.”

“I would have fainted!” she laughs. “Oh my God, Tyler. This is...I don't know...this is...”

“Huge,” he finishes for her.

“Yeah,” she agrees. “I don't even known what to say. This is insane. That they'd give you that much. I wasn't even expecting them to give you anything, to be honest. So this is very pleasant surprise.”

“A five million dollar surprise.  I get to walk away, baby. For good. I don't have to ever think about this job ever again. You don't ever again  have to worry about me walking out the door and not coming back. This is it. All I have to do now is find those kids, get them out of there, and come home.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“I've done hundreds of extractions. You know that.”

“Not against the Buckmans, you haven't. Please tell me you're not going in there alone, Tyler. Not when you have to get two people and yourself out of there.”

“That Nathan kid is going to come in with me.  Zak and Mark are going to watch the outside.  Not so sure I trust Mark that much, but I don't have much of a choice.  I think he'd sooner see someone put a bullet in my head than actually help me out. Probably so he could run back to you and do the whole 'comfort the grieving widow' bullshit.”

“Try not to let him get to you. He just wants to get under your skin and rile you up. Speaking of getting under Mark's skin and riling him up, I think I found a way to really get him where it hurts.”

“Yeah? Kick him in the nuts?”

“Figuratively, maybe. My brother is in the process of trying to pick up Nik. I'm going to send you a picture. They're looking very cozy.”

He waits as she puts the call on hold, and within seconds there's a notification as she sends the photo to him.  A picture of Nik and Kyle, shoulders touching as they both lean back against an SUV, smiles on their faces. It's a smile he's never seen on Nik before; her features much softer, eyes sparkling.

“Did you get it?” Esme asks.

“Yeah. I got it. I should send this to Mark. Just to be a prick.”

“Nik will get pissed for sure. You know she'll freak out on us. Especially me for sneaking a pic. Just hold onto it. In case you need it.”

“Blackmail,” he grins. “Nice.”

“They'd make a cute couple, don't you think? Kyle and Nik?”

“Well he's better than Mark, that's for sure. I don't know if he'd be able to handle Nik.”

“You were able to handle Nik,” she points out.

“There was nothing to handle. There wasn't a me and Nik. It was just sex. We fucked, she left. End of story. So don't start. And speaking of fucking...”

“And you tell me not to start,” she teases.

“That's what I wish I was doing right now. Fucking. You.”

“Well, as much as I'd like to indulge from thousands of miles away, I told my brother I would not partake in phone sex with you in his truck. But if you call me when you get up in the morning....”

“It'll be night time in Colorado,” he reminds her.

“Exactly. So I can get away from the wicked witch of the Midwest by saying I'm tired and then I can actually be talking to you and...”

“You have a filthy mind.”

“Listen, you dragged me down into the gutter with you five and a half years ago and I've stayed down there. And your voice does crazy things to my insides, so...”

He grins. “What kind of crazy things?”

“Phone me later and I'll tell you.   As much as I want to right now and as much as my hormones are out of control, now is not a good time. And you need to get him some sleep.”

“I'd sleep better if I could fuck you first. That always helps me sleep better.”

“Well then go and 'study' by yourself,” she suggests.

“Not the same thing and you know it.”

“Then you're going to have to be patient.  Get some sleep, Tyler. I'm sorry I woke you up.”

“Don't be. I wanted you to call. So I know you got there safe and sound.  I love you. Both of you.”

“I'm sure Kyle loves you too.”

“I meant you and the baby, smart ass.”

She giggles. “I know. And we love you too. Make sure you call me later. I have an itch that really needs scratched and you can help. Even if it is from thousands of miles away.”

“You expect me to sleep when that's all I'm going to be thinking about now?”

“If I have to suffer until later, so do you. Call me.”

“I will,” he promises.

“And be safe, okay? Be safe and be smart.”

“You know I will. And try not to kill your mother. I'm a little far away to come and bail you out of jail. Although if the cops know your mother, they'd let you of on reasons of justifiable homicide. Talk soon, yeah?”

“Very soon,” she confirms, and then disconnects the call.

****

Her mother barely acknowledges her arrival; never mind a warm embrace or even a reassuring smile.  Not looking up from the meal she's preparing at the stove, vigorously stirring the contents of a simmering sauce pot as others boil and bubble around it.  

“You cooking for an army?” Kyle asks,  as he lays a comforting and supportive hand on the small of Esme's back and escorts her into the kitchen, making sure she's settled herself into a chair at the table before moving to the stove and pressing a chaste kiss to their mother's cheek. “That's a lot of food.”

“Well, I've got all these extra people to feed. Nicole and her...whatever the hell they are...”

“Her name isn't Nicole,” Esme speaks up. “It's Nik.”

Her mother fixes her with a steely gaze. “Was I speaking to you? You're the last one that should be opening their mouth. Considering I had to take you in at the last minute. All because you're life finally blew up in your face like I told you it would right from the bloody beginning. I knew you'd end up back here,” she huffs. “When he decided he didn't want you anymore.”

“That's not what happened,” Kyle says. “That is far from what happened. So maybe  not freak out on her until you know the whole truth.”

“What is there to know that I already don't know? That he's a lying, cheating bastard that isn't good enough for my daughter?”

“When did this conversation become about Mark?”  Esme pipes up, and Kyle smirks.

“Don't get smart with me, young lady!” her mother hisses. “I told you five and a half years ago that this was going to happen. When you all showed up in the middle of the night, looking for a place to stay. You and him and that kid and the baby. I wanted to turn you all away. I didn't want that mess here. I didn't want him here.”

“He was a fucking name,” Esme snaps. “Call him by his goddamn name. I hate when you do that! He has a name and you need to call him by it. It's not 'he' or 'him' or 'that boy' or 'trouble maker'. Enough with that shit. His name is Tyler.”

“I won't say his name in my house. I can think of many other things to call him and not one of them are very nice. You sitting there, still defending him. Always defending him. No matter what he does wrong.”

“What has he done wrong? Absolutely nothing.  He's done nothing to me or the kids in the past five and a half years. All he's done is work his ass off to make sure we have a roof over our heads, food on the table, clothes on our backs, that the bills are paid.”

“She's right,” Kyle says. “Tyler hasn't done anything wrong. Not by her, not by the kids.”

Michelle glares at him. “And now you're defending him?”

“Someone fucking has to. I'm not just going to sit back while you have a go at Esme about him. He's not a bad guy, mom.”

“Yes. Yes he is. He's a very bad guy and he shouldn't be around my daughter or my grandchildren. Do you know what he does? Do you know how he makes the money to pay everything?”

“Esme told me. On the way here.”

“And you're okay with that?”

“Well, I'm not over the goddamn moon about it but it is what it is.  It doesn't change the fact that he's a good guy and that he's always treated her right and he's always treated his kids right. Just because you have a war to wage against him, doesn't mean we all do. You need to get over it. It was five and a half years ago. And Esme's a grown woman and she can do what she wants. She chose to stay in Australia with him. She chose to get married, have kids, the whole nine.”

“And now look,” their mother huffs. “Now look at the mess she's in. Four kids and no husband because he turned out to be just bad as I said he was.”

“You're jumping the gun, mom. Esme and Tyler are still together. He's still her husband. So maybe you need to chill the hell out and listen to what she has to say.”

“Excuse me?” she stomps across the room, pointing a wooden spoon in her daughter's face. “You're still with him? Did I just hear your brother right? You're still with him?”

“Of course I am. Why would you think I'm not?”

“After everything he's put you through in the past five and a half years? After every lie he's told you, every promise he's broken, after leaving you while you were having problems while pregnant with the twins? After all that you're still with him. Why?”

“Because I love him, mother. Because he's not the terrible person you're making him up to be. Yes, we've had our issues.”

She snorts as she stomps back to the stove. “That's putting it lightly. Look at the mess you're in right now. The mess we are in all. Because of his job. Fine upstanding citizen that he is.”

“Okay, that's enough,” Kyle gently orders. “Regardless of what Tyler does for a living, he's kept your daughter and your grandkids save for five and a half years. He's done nothing but love them and take care of them. So maybe give the guy a chance for once. Cut him some slack.”

“Never. He will get nothing from me. Ever. Maybe this time, this will be the job that finishes him off. Maybe he will die this time. That'll be the best that could happen for her and those kids.”

“How the fuck could you say that?!” Esme rages, and storms over to her mother. “That is my husband! How dare you fucking say that about him?!”

“You get out of my face, young lady, or...”

“Or what? What are you going to do? How can you be such a horrible person? How could you even say something that. About my husband. About the father of my children! That you wish he would die! How fucking dare you?!”

“Okay...okay...” Kyle steps between them, laying his hands on her shoulders. “...you need to calm down, kid.  Take it easy. You don't want anything going wrong. You won't want anything happening to the baby.”

“Baby?” Michelle shoves her son out of the way. “Now there's a baby? What is wrong with you? Why would you  do something like this? What are you? Nothing more than a whore to him?”

“You mean like the whore you were while we were growing up?” Esme retorts, and receives a slap across the face in response.  Her eyes narrow,  her brow furrows. “You did not just put your hands on me.”

“First thing tomorrow, you're calling the doctor and you're getting something done about that,” her mother nods in the direction of her stomach. “The last thing you need to be doing is bringing a baby into this mess.”

“You're sick, mom. There is something seriously wrong with you! First you wish death on my husband, now you want me to get rid of his baby? Your grandchild?”

“That is no grandchild of mine,” she hisses.

“So then none of the other four are, either. Is that what you're saying? Because Tyler's their father? You want nothing to do with any of them because whose DNA they share? Are you serious right now?”

“As long as you're still with him, you're not welcome in this house. That's just the way it is. As long as you're still with him, you're dead to me.  All of you are.”

“That's a little fucking harsh,” Kyle speaks up. “She's your daughter. Those are your grandchildren. Just because you have a hard on for hating Tyler doesn't mean you say shit like you're saying. Wishing him dead? Wishing an unborn baby dead? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I should have known you'd be on her side,” Michelle snarls. “On his side.”

“Of course I am! He hasn't done anything wrong! Jesus Christ. You hate on Tyler for bullshit reasons but Mark actually beat the shit out of her...on multiple occasions...and you love him. What is wrong with you? “What....?” he stops mid sentence when he fells his sister's hand tightly grip his jacket, and when he glances over, her eyes are closed. “...what's wrong? Are you okay?”

“Just dizzy. I'll be fine. I just need to sit down. I'm just so dizzy.”

“Here,” he curls an arm around her waist,  attempting to escort her to a chair before he feels her go totally limp against him.

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary -Chapter 59

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @alievans007​, @thunderintheshadows​, @valkyrie-of-the-light​

Less than forty eight hours later he's on a plane home; commercial this time, opting out of the offer of something more private from Nik. The second he'd walked out of the hotel room, the old life had been left behind. Dropping his SAT phone and the weapons off with Yaz, handing him any and all forms of face identification and credentials that he's been carrying around for years.  The conversation between them minimal and tense; his decision being viewed as rash and 'done with the heart, not with the head'. Years of getting his hands dirty for people...putting his life on the line...and he received little more than a clap on the back and a terse smile.

The decision wasn't theirs to make, nor is it theirs to understand. He doesn't owe anyone an explanation; he's reached the end of the line and for the good of his health and for his marriage, it's time. No longer wanting to be the absent husband and father; tired of missing birthdays and holidays, even his anniversary two years in a row. He wants his kids to have memories of them spending time together, not of their mother handling everything on her own. And he wants to everything right by the new baby.  Attend doctor's appointments and ultrasounds, be the one that puts the crib together and paints the nursery, actually be in same country when she goes into labour. It's things that guys like Yaz will never understand; they're perfectly happy flying solo and never putting down any roots of forming any bonds. And he'd been like that; when Austin had died and his first marriage had fallen apart. He'd had nothing left to lose at that point and he'd stumbled upon the job while drunk in the same bar that Yaz had been in. Throwing himself into it with a reckless abandon; operating with little to no fear and even less remorse and regrets. And if he caught a bullet, well all the better. A quick and easy way out without having to get his own hands dirty.

It had been Nathan...the young Marine...that had actually seen him off. Driving him to the airport; spending the entire half an hour talking about how amazing if had been to that he'd gotten to not only work alongside of  'the legend', but that Tyler had taken the time to teach him the tricks of the trade; spending his last hours in New Zealand training the kid the best he could in such a short period of time.  Nathan had volunteered to be the one to go in and grab the McMann kids; he was seriously contemplating giving up the Corps and working for Nik full time, and this extraction would be a huge notch on his belt. Tyler knew he could do it; the kid is strong, quick, and deceptively smart. But it wasn't going to a cake walk; the Buckmans would put up a huge resistance and make things as difficult and bloody as possibly, and part of him knew it was a strong possibility that the kid's first job would end up being his last one.

He'd thought that might make him change his mind about leaving. Even for a brief second. That the thought of Nathan would going into kids alone would feed off his conscience and force him stay; making sure that not only the kids got out safely, but the the young Marine as well. But he'd felt nothing. No guilt surrounding the decision he'd made. No remorse that he was leaving the job and those kids' lives in the hands of someone inexperienced.  Since his breakdown two days before, he'd found himself emotionally voice. Numb. To anything and everything around him. As if every single feeling inside of him had simply been turned off, leaving him as nothing more than an empty shell.

Getting home would change that. Seeing his wife, feeling her body pressed up against his as he hugged her, taking in that familiar scent that clings to her hair.  Five and a half years ago she'd saved him. In every way a person can be saved. Giving up her old life in favour of a new one with him, even knowing what a mess he would be physically and mentally. Sticking by his side through even the most difficult of times; when the monsters of the past came back to haunt him and dragged her along with him into the nightmare. Taking him back when he didn't deserve another chance. Often putting her own happiness and her own well being on the back burner in order to take care of him. Whether it be tending to wounds and broken bones he'd come home from a job with,  his volatile temper and the instability of his moods, or just his frequent absences.  He has so much to make up for. All the missed birthdays and anniversaries, abandoning her when she was pregnant with the twins, being so devoted to the job that he often made her feel as if she were a single mother. And now here he was, on his way home, expecting more from her.

And know she'd give it him. Without hesitation. So willing...and able...to take on his problems.  

****

“I really appreciate this Kyle,” Esme says, as she stands with him at the tailgate of his truck, watching as he loads the kids' bags of clothes and various books and toys into the bed. “You have no idea.”

“Anything for you and the kids. You know that. You don't have to thank me. Gives me a chance to spoil them rotten and then sugar them up before I send them home,” he winks at her playfully.

“I feel so bad doing this. I mean, they just got back. And now I'm sending them away again? God, I'm a shitty mother.”

“Our mother is a shitty mother. You look up shitty mother in the dictionary and her picture is right there. You're an awesome mom. Always have been. Right from the get go.  You always had it in you, kid. That instinct. That way with babies. A little mother hen when you weren't kicking the shit out boys on the playground and making bullies cry.”

“Everything they've been through though. What if this is just all too much for them? Having to be away from home because of 'bad guys', not seeing me for two and a half weeks and their dad for nearly a whole month. What if it really screws them up? What if...”

“Look at them...” Kyle nods to where Ovi entertains Millie and the twins on the tire swing; the kids laughing hysterically and encouraging him to push them higher, faster.  “...those kids are not screwed up. Far from it. They're happy, they're healthy, and they're loved. Ovi took good care of them. He kept them safe. Kept them busy.  They didn't even realize just how serious things were. Don't doubt yourself. Or what you do for them.”

“But do I do enough?” she frets. “For them? That's why I worry about. I've spent five and a half years keeping this from them. This life. I never wanted them to know what Tyler does. What he did. And now they've been brought into it and people were taking pictures of them and threatening them and...”

“And they're fine. Esme, you do enough. Don't ever doubt that. You've been the one constant those kids have had in their lives. And that's not a shot at Tyler. It's just the truth. I still don't get why he chose to stick with it. Why he didn't just walk away once the two of you got together. Especially once you started having babies. I'll never get that part. But it is what it is. The two of you have kept those kids safe and happy all this time. And they still don't really know the full truth about what he does and....”

“What he used to do,” she corrects, and it feels so good to say. To talk about it in past tense.

“...and they're not suffering. At all. They're happy, they're well adjusted, they're happy. So stop being your own worst enemy. You've done enough. More than enough. And now you've got a whole new life ahead of you. I wish that new life wasn't going to take place thousands of miles away, mind you.”

“It's what we have to do, K. It's what best. For all of us. And especially for Tyler. He needs to be somewhere he can heal. He has a long road of him and I want that road to be as smooth as possible\ I know you don't understand that. Why it's so important to me. But he's my husband and the father of my children and the love of my life and I need him to be healthy. Especially mentally. And that won't happen if we stay here.”

“I mean, I get it. That he's got issues going on and needs to get them under control. Doesn't mean I have to agree with you guys going so far away. But I do get it. And I get that you want to take care of him. Help him. But you need to remember that he's a grown man. You can't fix him. Not if he doesn't want to fix himself.”

“Well he does. Want to fix himself. If he didn't, he'd still be on that job and he wouldn't be coming home. I had nothing to do with that. It was his decision. And he's in a really bad place right now and that's why I didn't want the kids here.  I don't want them seeing him like that. They've been through enough and to see your dad an emotional wreck? That would be too much to handle. He just needs a couple of days. To decompress.”

“Say no more. I just want you to remember to take care of yourself, too. You've got a little one in there counting on you.”

“You act like I've never done this before. This isn't my first rodeo. Four other ones, remember?”

“Oh I remember. I still have a hard time accepting it though. My kid sister being a mom.  You got what you wanted though. What Mark couldn't give you.”

“More like what he wouldn't give me. You know, at the time, it was the worst thing that had ever happened to me. Then I met Tyler and I realized that Mark destroying things was actually the best thing that ever happened. Because I never would have gotten into the life I did and I never would have ended up in that shack in the Australian outback. And things got crazy and they got screwed up and I nearly lost him, but now look. If none of that ever happened, I wouldn't have them,” she nods in the direction of her children, and then lays a hand on her stomach. “Or this one. Everything we went through led to them. It made it all worth it.”

“Even Dhaka?”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “In a weird and twisted way, even Dhaka. With no Dhaka, there's no me and Tyler, so...”

“You did good, kid,” Kyle lays a hand on the back of her head. “Real good. Don't ever doubt that. Don't ever doubt yourself. Because pretty soon I won't be able to just show up on your doorstep to kick your ass.”

“You're the only one I'll miss, you know.  You're the only one that didn't turn their back on me.”

“Why would I? You did nothing wrong, Esme. You're a grown woman that decided what she wanted to do with her life. You made the decision that was best for you. And look what came out of it. Four amazing kids. Another little peanut on the way.  And if everyone else can't accept that? Well fuck 'em.  You ready guys?” he calls out to the kids. “Let's get this show on the road. We've got a lot of shit to do.”

“Kyle!” she scolds, and punches him in shoulder. “We're trying to cut down on the amount of bad words they say. Not encourage them to say more.”

“Shit isn't that bad,” Millie comments, as she scurries over. “Daddy says shit all the time.”

“Daddy says a lot of bad words he shouldn't say.” Esme says, as she helps her daughter into the truck, Kyle tending to the twins and Declan on the other side. “And you guys be good! No fighting. You've been back one day and there's already been three fights and two bloody noses. Enough.  Amelia, stop beating up on your brothers. No matter how much they annoy you.”

“Tanner doesn't annoy me. Just Tyler does. Because he's a dick.”

“Hey!” Esme scolds. “Enough.  You seriously want me to tell your dad about all of this when he gets home? About the fights and the bad language? What did you tell you the last time you beat up on Tyler?”

'To hit him harder next time.”

“Something tells me he did not say that. Stop. Because one day Tyler is going to hit back and he's going to demolish you.”

“I can't!” he wails. “I can't hit her! Daddy said never hit girls! Ever!”

“Well one day you might be mad enough and forget he said that and you will hit her back. And you will do some serious damage. So both of you...” she leans into the back seat, tousles their hair and kisses their foreheads. “...knock it off. Be good. Don't drive Uncle Kyle crazy. He's almost there and it won't take much to push him over the edge.”

“Your mom just thinks she's so funny,” her brother mutters,  as he buckles Declan into his car seat. “Funny looking, maybe.”

“We look alike, K, so you're just insulting yourself,” she wanders around to the other side of the truck, once again climbing inside, this time to give the baby and Tanner hugs and kisses. The latter is already crying; huge, hot tears that slide down his cheeks and the sides of his nose. “Boy child...what's wrong?” she takes his face in her hands. He's so sensitive; easily moved to tears,  his heart breaking over even the smallest and simplest of things, a huge heart inside of such a small body. “Why are you crying?”

“I don't want to leave. We just got home.”

“It's only for a couple of days. Mommy and daddy need to talk about things without you guys here.”

“You're not getting rid of us are you?” he inquires.  “Is that what you're talking about? Is that why we can't hear?”

“What? Of course not.  Why would we get rid of you guys? We love you. Even when you're being complete pains in the butts. No one is getting rid of anybody. It''s adult stuff. Things that little ears can't hear. So you're going to go with Uncle Kyle and have a sleepover at his house. And he's going to take you guys to do all sorts of fun things. Okay? I promise you, daddy and I are not getting rid of  any of you. And even if we did, it would be your brother.”

“Hey!” Tyler frowns. “Why me? Get rid of Millie. She's the bad one.”

“You're the bad one,” she huffs. “And the stupid one.”

“No one is bad and no one is stupid,” their mother says.  “I swear, you two are way too much alike. And way too much like your father.”

“That's not a bad thing,” her son retorts, and then gives an innocent smile when she glares at him. “Well, it's not,” he adds with a shrug. So much like his father in that moment; the same mannerisms, facial expressions.

“Are you sure you're ready for this?” Esme laughs, as she climbs out of the truck and stands at her brother's window. “You realize what you're getting yourself into, right? Don't be calling me in an hour begging me to come and get them. Because I won't answer.”

“I've done this before. I've had all four of them and lived to tell about it.  I had more gray hair at the end of it. But...” his voice trails off and a smile curves his lips as Nik steps out onto the front porch; returning the smile with one of her own and raising a hand in goodbye.

“You two make me sick,” Esme mutters. “You couldn't take her with you?”

“She said she had some things to take care of. That she'd catch up with us.”

“I swear to God if she thinks she's going to get on Tyler's ass about all of this the second he walks through the door...”

“Well she deserves an explanation, don't you think?”

“She deserves shit,” Esme says, and the kids burst into giggles in the backseat. “Tyler owes her nothing.”

“She's his boss.”

“He still owes her shit. Considering she's spent the last five and a half years trying to get in his pants and fuck up my marriage...”

“Now that's going a little overboard. I highly doubt she's been doing that all this time.”

“Do you want to see the text messages and emails she's sent him? Or hear about the times she's shown up at his hotel room when he's away on a job? She's determined. I'll give her that. But I'm not above beating her ass. Stay away from my husband. I've been tolerating it for five and a half years because he's been working for her. Now I don't have to worry about it. All bets are off. I can say what I want now.”

“Be nice, Esme,” he calls after as she heads for the house.  “Don't overreact. I know how you get. Just stay nice and calm, okay? Think nice thoughts.”

“Fuck your nice thoughts!” she retorts, and climbs the step to the porch.

****

“What are you still doing here?” Esme waits until the pick up truck disappears around the bend in the driveway before turning to the woman beside her. “It's over. Your guys are gone. Why didn't you go with Kyle and the kids?”

“It's not over,” Nik says. “There's some loose ends that need to be tied up.”

“My husband isn't a loose end, Nik. He's a human being. A human being that's had enough. It's over. He's done. Why more could you possibly want from him? He hasn't given you enough? All the blood and the sweat and the tears? Years of those things. And it's still not enough?”

“I just want to talk to him. I want to know why he gave up. Why...?”

'He didn't give up. He just finally reached his limit. He's not a goddamn machine. You couldn't see this coming? This has been years in the making. This all started after Dhaka. He was never the same after that and you know it. And you never should have brought him back into things. You knew what he was struggling with. The anxiety, the PTSD, the depression. Yet you couldn't leave him alone. You just couldn't let him rest.”

“Tyler got back into things willingly,” Nik reminds her. “I never forced him.”

“No. You just preyed on someone when they were the most vulnerable. You used everything against him that you knew bothered him the most. He didn't see it, but I did. How you'd put it into his head that he'd get bored and restless and would need some kind of outlet to take all that aggression out on. That he wouldn't be happy just staying home and having a normal life. That he wouldn't be able to provide for his family without the job. Everything you knew he was worried about, you used it.  Why? To do your dirty work? To have more blood on his hands?”

“He could have said no. He could have just walked away and...”

“You knew he wouldn't. You knew what he was struggling with. In his own mind. You just didn't give a shit.  And you knew once he got back in, he wouldn't want to stop. That it would become an obsession to him. You knew exactly how to manipulate him. You knew he wasn't the same Tyler anymore and instead of wanting what was best for him, you just used him. And now you think he owes you something? After everything he's been through, after everything you help put him through, you have the goddamn nerve to expect more? It's done, Nik. He's done. And you need to back off.”

“I just want to talk to him. That's all. I just want to make sure he's okay and...”

“Oh bullshit, Nik!' Esme snaps. “You don't want to make sure he's okay. You want to worm your way inside of his head and convince him to go back.  He has nothing left to give you.  Why can't you understand that? He's done. For good this time. And I'm not letting you suck him back in. Not now, not ever. Leave him alone.”

“You even have to admit that it was a rash decision and not done in the right frame of mind.”

“He's not in the right frame of mind. He hasn't been in the right frame of mind for years. And you've either just chosen to ignore it or you just never gave a shit. All you ever cared about what was he could do for you. You've been manipulating him and using him for years and I'm telling you, it's over. I'm not letting you do that to anymore. You need to back off. Leave him alone.”

“Tyler's my friend. He's been my friend for years. Long before you ever came along.”

“Well I came along, Nik. You brought me along, remember? And I know it burns your ass every day that things turned out the way they did. Between me and Tyler. You never saw that coming, did you. That things would happen between us. And I bet you've been regretting it every single day for five and half years. That you ever got me involved. Because suddenly he wasn't available anymore. And that just drove you insane. And it's just been driving you insane all this time. You wanted him and you couldn't have him and you couldn't stand it.”

“That has nothing to do with this,” Nik argues, as she follows Esme into the house.  “Your insecurities about your marriage have nothing to do with this.”

“My insecurities?” she scoffs, as she begins 'stressful tidying' of the front foyer; gathering shoes and putting them neatly in the closet, picking up random toys.  “I'm insecure about my marriage because I don't appreciate another woman trying to fuck my husband. What should I have done? Just handed him over to you whenever you needed a good fuck? Get over yourself, Nik.”

“I already told you that I was sorry. For the way I'd been behaving. It was irrational and it was out of character and...”

“I've seen the emails, Nik. I've seen the texts. I know that you'd show up at his hotel room when he was away on jobs. What? You didn't think he'd tell me? That's the thing, Nik. Tyler is loyal. He always has been. He was never going to keep those things from me because he knew it would come back to bite him in the ass.  He was never going to cheat on me. And he never will. I'm not insecure about my marriage. I just don't appreciate some trifling ass hoe trying to fuck my husband.”

“I've apologized a thousand times. To him. To you. What more do you want?”

“I want you to leave him alone!” Esme snaps, as she tosses the toys into bins in the living room. “Enough is enough. I've put up with this shit for five and a half years. Always telling him I'd never say anything to you because I didn't want things to be weird and awkward when he still had to work with you. But I'm tired of this crap. I want you to back off. For once and for all. He's my husband. Not yours. Deal with it.”

“Esme, regardless of what you think, I'm not here to try and steal your husband.  I'm here to talk to him. That's it. About what he's done.”

“He finally had enough. What more does he have to say, Nik? He told you he was done and you need to respect that.”

“I just want to know why. Why now? Right when we were so close to getting those kids. We were so close to the end and...”

“And he's done! Enough! He owes you nothing. He doesn't owe you a goddamn thing. He's walking away and you need to accept that. You don't need to know his reasons. Those are personal. Between me and Tyler.  You don't need to know everything. You just need to leave him alone. He's gone through enough and he's coming home and he needs time to heal. Not all scars are on the outside. There's a lot more damage inside than you realize. And that's why I need you to let him go. Because he won't get better if you won't let him.”

“And I won't know how to help him if...”

“You don't need to help him! He doesn't need you. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of him myself. I've been doing it for five and a half years. You were never around; between jobs. You weren't the one that had to deal with what he's been going through. You only contacted him when you wanted something. He doesn't need your help. What he needs is me and his kids. That's it. Now I am asking you....no I am telling you...to leave Tyler alone.”

“I've known him a lot longer than you have,” Nik reminds her. “We've been friends for a long time and...”

“Oh I'm sorry if being friends and an occasional fuck buddy means something in your eyes. It means shit to me. I'm his wife, Nik. And I know things about Tyler that he would never, ever tell another single soul on this planet. I have seen him in the deepest and darkest of places. I have helped him out of them. You know shit about him. Don't make your role in his life seem even bigger because you need to feel superior over me. Fuck that. And fuck you for thinking I'm below you. I'm his wife. I'm the mother of his children. And you have the goddamn nerve to stand in my house and my diminish my role in his life? I'm tired of this shit. I'm tired and I want you to go. I want you out of my house. Now. Not five minutes from now. Now.”

“Esme, why are you doing this?” Nik follows her down the hall towards the kitchen “Acting so irrational and...”

She turns to face the other woman, lips set in a tight, angry line. “Did you not hear what I said? I said I want you out of my house. Now.”

“If we could just talk about this...rationally...we could both help Tyler and...”

“I don't need you to help me.  He doesn't need your help. He doesn't want your help.”

Nik frowns. “You don't know that.”

“Yes. I do. Because he told me. He told me that he doesn't want you here. He doesn't want anyone here. He wants it to just us. Him and I. It's what he needs. He doesn't need you interfering and being a nosy bitch. Jesus Christ, enough is enough. Just accept that he has a life that doesn't involve you. He has a wife and kids. I know that pisses you off, but that's how it is. Go and be with Kyle. He's crazy about you. And part of me wants to tell you to stay the fuck away from him too, but I know he'd kill me if I did that. Leave Tyler alone. Just accept that he doesn't want you. That he never will. Why can' t you just accept that? Why can't you stay the fuck out of my marriage?”

“I'm not trying to interfere. I'm just trying to help.”

“And I just told you that I don't need your help. Neither does he. What I need is for you to leave. I want you out of here because he gets home. I want you to get your shit and get out. I appreciate everything you've done. I really do.  But now I'm asking you...I'm telling you...to get out of our lives.   It's over.  Tyler means nothing to you now. He's done and you need to accept that and leave him alone.  I don't care if you want to be his friend. But be a friend from afar and leave us alone.”

“And you're so sure it's what he wants.”

“I know it is. Because he told me. He wants no connection to his old life. That Tyler is dead as far as he's concerned. And that's the way he wants it to be. You need to accept that.  He's walking away and he's not going back this time.  So I want you to pretend that Tyler...the old Tyler...never existed. Don't call him, don't email him, don't text him. Lose his number somehow.  That Tyler is gone. He doesn't exist anymore. And I want you to accept that. I want you to respect him enough to give him that. After everything he's done for you, it's time you do something for him.”

Nik nods slowly, considering the words.

“Leave us alone. Leave him alone. This is the last time I'm going to tell you. Because you don't want him doing it. I'm being nice about it. Tyler won't be. And I don't think that's what you want. Him telling you.”

She shakes her head.

Esme gives a small smile, then turns on her heel and walks away. “Goodbye, Nik.”

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 25

Warnings: mentions of PTSD, anxiety, depression, panic attacks, alcoholism, drug addiction (pain medication)

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​

Kyle arrives shortly before eleven; shirt untucked and wrinkled, carrying his shoes in his hands as he takes the beach back instead of the street.  

From where he stands at the kitchen table braiding Millie’s hair, Tyler can see him as he stands by the side of the pool; cheerfully greeting the twins and Ovi –with Declan in his arms- as they splash around. It’s trouble waiting to happen; whatever is going on between Kyle and the neighbor. As angry and annoyed as he is at Nik for years of drama and issues she’s tried to cause in his own relationship, she doesn't deserve to be treated like that. No woman does. Why cheat when you can just cut ties and do things the right way? There are no kids involved, no worrying about visitation schedules or child support or the long-lasting effects of a broken home. Whatever is going on, it won’t help well for anyone involved. Nik will be hurt and jilted, and she’ll end up on his doorstep. And that’s the last damn thing he wants OR needs.

“Where have you been?” Millie inquires, as Kyle wanders into the house. “And why do you look like shit?”

“Amelia...” Tyler frowns. “...what was the one rule for today?”

She sighs dramatically. “No bad words. But it’s true. He does look like shit.”

“Busy night?” Tyler asks his brother in law; hands working at twining and twisting his daughter’s thick hair together.

It’s a far cry from what his hands used to do, when they were primarily used for inflicting pain and punishment on others. When his knuckles would be torn apart; broken, bleeding, swollen. And as he gently drags the brush through Millie’s hair, he finds himself horrified that he’s even thinking about the job.  That his brain is playing the ‘then versus now’ game while his own flesh and blood sits in front of him; his ‘rainbow baby’ as Esme calls her. The very life that he’d help created while on the job. That had kept him going on the darkest and most trying of days.

He tries to fight it. That urge to get back into things. That powerful craving for something more. The intensity and the exhilaration.  Even the danger.

“Ow!” Millie cries, and tilts her head back to look up at him, fixing him with a furious glare. “That hurt! Why’d you pull my hair so hard?!

Fuck. He’s losing it. Or at least he feels like he is. First Ovi with his ‘wanting to try his hand at the job’ bullshit and then the reappearance of Nik in his life and the fucking nightmares and the incessant and desperate cravings for the Oxy and the booze. Now THIS. The reminiscing and the longing for his former life. This is not what he wanted. This is FAR from what he’d wanted. When he’d had his mental breakdown and walked away from New Zealand, he’d been determined to leave it all behind, the blood, the violence, the danger, the death. Content to be ‘normal’. More than happy to finally settle down and enjoy his role as a husband and a father. He wants to be the man they need. The man they want him to be. The man they deserve to have.

Now he’s slipping. All of his control, all of his willpower, all of his strength and his confidence. All abandoning him. Threatening to turn him back int the old Tyler; the one that couldn’t function without the booze and the pills. The one that willingly put his life on the line and took on whatever suicide mission he could; praying one day he’d catch a bullet and his miserable existence would be over.  

And he knows if he goes there...if he follows that path...this one will be lost to him forever.

“That hurt!” Millie pouts. “Why’d you do that?!”

“I didn’t mean to,” he attempts a lame apology. “I didn’t realize I was holding it that hard. I’m sorry,” he presses a kiss to the top of her head; right on the spot that she’s been gently rubbing.  He turns his attention back to the task at home, but finds his hands are now trembling; shaking with an intensity that both surprises and terrifies him, and he lets the brush fall to the table with a loud clatter. “Why don’t you go and get your mom to finish up,” he suggests, nervously wringing his hands together, tightly squeezing one, then the other; anxious for the tremors to stop. “She does a better job than I do.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Millie scoffs. “And she’s busy. With Addie.”

“I’m sure she’s got some time to finish your hair.”  Tyler sees the way Kyle is watching him; the way his head is cocked to the side and his are both curious and concerned. And he quickly shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Go ask.”

“I don’t want to,” his daughter argues. “I want you to do it. I want...”

“Amelia!” he snaps, harsher than he’d intended. “I said go and ask your mom!”

She blinks, then her mouth settles into a firm, grim line and tears glisten in her eyes. The guilt hits him immediately. She shouldn’t be the one paying the price for his issues; she doesn’t deserve to face the consequences of his burdens and his demons. She’s just a kid. A baby still. Innocent and pure. And none of this bullshit is her fault.

“Millie...I’m sorry...” he attempts to make amends as she shoves her chair backwards and springs to her feet.  “I didn’t mean to yell at you. I didn’t mean to...”

“Leave me alone!” she bellows, then stomps out of the room, both her angry, pounding footsteps and her sobs seeming to thunder through the house.

“Fuck me...” Tyler mutters, and rakes his hands through his hair and runs a palm down his face. The cravings are back; that crippling need for alcohol. Or the meds. Maybe even both.

“What the hell, man?” Kyle scowls. “That’s your fucking kid. Why talk to her like that?”

Tyler fixes him with a cold, harsh stare. “You need to mind your own fucking business.”

“That’s my niece. My sister is her mother. That makes Millie my business.”

“You don’t even have kids. Until you do, keep your mouth shut about mine. You don’t know what it’s like. This life. Being a dad.”

“I know that wasn’t you. That you’re not that kind of dad. The one that snaps on his kids. You’re usually the calm one. Patience of a saint. So what the fuck?”

Tyler sighs, hands on his hips as he briefly closes his eyes. There’s going to be hell to pay: a pissed off wife and a hurt, angry little girl. Kyle’s right. He IS usually the calm and patient one; he can count on one hand the amount of times he’s lost it on the kids. But his nerves are shot; the last remaining shred of sanity feeling as if it’s barely hanging on.

“You okay?” Kyle asks. “What was that with your hands? The shaking.”

“It’s the meds,” Tyler lies. “One of the side effects.”  

His hands used to twitch and move in his sleep; to the point it would wake Esme up.  She’d said it was like he was back on the battlefields in the Middle East or still on the job; hands and fingers going through the motions of handling a handgun or a rifle, loading magazines, pulling the trigger.  There are times it STILL happens. He can be completely relaxed while lying in bed or sitting on the couch or lounging on the beach and his right index finger moves on its own accord.  And he actually has to focus and concentrate on making it stop.  

“Haven’t you been on those for years?” his brother in law inquires. “If you’re still having side effects after this long, I’d get your ass to a doctor."

Tyler’s annoyed. On edge. And it causes him to immediately lash out. “Shouldn’t you still be out fucking the neighbor?”

Kyle smirks. “So now you’re going take your shit out on me? I may not be able to take you, but it won’t stop me from trying to kick your ass.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Tyler retorts. “Why are you even here?”

“Esme called me. Asked if I’d help Ovi with the kids while you guys went out for a while.”

“I don’t mean that. I mean why are you HERE? In Australia.”

“I’m here to see my sister. And my nieces and nephews. I don’t get to do that very much since you decided to just pack them up and move them to the other side of the goddamn world.”

Tyler scoffs. “Don’t start that shit with me. I didn’t force your sister to come here. I didn’t put a gun to her head or give her some kind of ultimatum. We decided this together. She was the one who suggested it.”

“Same way she suggested it the first time?”

He frowns. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m talking about when she decided to give up her entire life to stay here. For some guy she’d just met.”

“She gave up a life?” Tyler gives a dry laugh. “What life? A mother that’s treated her like shit for nearly her entire life? Who stayed friends with an ex-husband that that used to beat her and force himself on her? You mean THAT life? She had no fucking life.”

“And you gave her one?” Kyle challenges. “Some guy that saw her as nothing more than an easy fuck and spent five days taking advantage of that in some shit hole motel in Bangladesh. Who probably wasn’t even going to bother with her once he got out of there?”

“You have no fucking clue what you’re talking about. You have no idea what went down between me and Esme. Just what you want to believe. Or what mommy dearest put into your goddamn head.  I had every intention of continuing things with her. We had all kinds of plans; for what we were going to do after Dhaka. But we never got that chance, did we.”

“Yeah, how convenient,” Kyle snorts. “Things go completely to hell, she ends up staying here to play nursemaid to some guy she barely knew, finds out she’s knocked up...”

“Don’t talk about my wife or my kid like that,” Tyler interjects. “Don’t EVER talk about them like that.”

“And then you decide to do the right thing,” his brother in law continues. “The honorable thing. I’ll give you that much; you stepped up at least. You didn’t leave her alone and pregnant and make her a single mom.”

“Is that what you think I did? That I ‘stepped up’ and married her because of Millie? I married her because I loved her. And I stick around because I still love her. Because I’ll always love her.”

“Or because you’re too far in it now. Five kids make it pretty damn hard to walk away. Or is it your way of keeping HER from walking away? I mean, what better way to keep her around? Keep putting kids in her, keep her barefoot and pregnant...”

Tyler takes a step towards him; nostrils flaring, fists clenched at his sides. “You’re way out of fucking line, mate. Neither of us are stuck here. Either of us could walk away if we wanted to.”

“What mother is going to leave her kids? Tell me on mother who would do that. I’ll wait.”

“You think she sticks around because she feels like she has no other choice? Are you listening to yourself right now? You have no fucking clue what things are like between me and Esme. I stay because I love her. Because I want to spend the rest of my life with her. And I know...beyond the shadow of a fucking doubt...that she stays for the same reason. So fuck off with your bullshit. This is my house. You’re a guest here. So don’t walk in here like you own the place and start shit talking me. Or my wife. Or my kids. Because I will put you on your ass.”

“You threaten her like that, too? Is that how you keep her here? Scare her into being a perfect little submissive housewife? Does it make you feel like a big man picking on a little thing like her?”

Tyler’s nostrils flare once more; fists tightening so hard that the wounds on his knuckles -that he’s gained while working the heavy bag in the gym so hard- actually crack and begin to bleed. He feels how tense his shoulders are, how tight his jaw is clenched. And he knows Kyle is one more word...one more breath...away from getting himself into a situation he can’t possibly handle.

****

“That’s enough!”  Esme snaps from the doorway; holding a despondent Millie on her hip. The soon to be six-year-old is long and lanky; legs dangling well past her mother’s knees, toes almost touching her shins. “Kyle...what the hell...?”

“We were just having a discussion,” her brother says. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Bullshit. I was in the hallway. I heard almost all of your little discussion. How fucking dare you.”

“Mommy...” Millie mutters into her neck.  “...bad language.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Esme lays a hand on her daughter’s head and presses a kiss to her brow. “Do you think you could go outside for a little bit? Just for a few minutes. Mommy has some things to say and she doesn’t think you should hear them. Can you do that for me? Please?”

Millie nods.  

“Just for a few minutes,” her mother assures her, as she places her on the ground and then holds her face in her hands, pecking her lips. “And say out of the sand. You don’t want mess your dress up before grandpa gets to see it, okay?”

“Okay,” Millie agrees, and then sidestep her father’s hand when he reaches out for her. “No daddy. I’m still mad. I love you, but I don’t like you very much right now.”

“Wow...” Kyle comments, as his niece stomps from the room and throws the patio door open –and slams it closed- with enough force to rattle the glass pane. “Six-ish going on sixteen-ish. Wonder where she gets THAT attitude from.”

“First off, fuck you Kyle,” Esme snaps. “Fuck you and your self-righteous, mom like bullshit. Coming here and thinking you can say the shit I heard come out of your mouth.”

“What I said? You know what he said?” he gestures towards Tyler. “To his own kid?! How he made her cry?”

“Oh, she told me all about that. And believe me, Tyler is going to catch shit for it, and he knows it. When we’re alone and we don’t have nosey, judgmental assholes all up in our shit. It’s none of your goddamn business what goes on around here.”

“You’re my sister,” Kyle argue. “That makes it my business.”

“Like hell it does! I’m a grown ass woman. With children. So treat me like one. And second of all, fuck you again. For talking about me like you were. Never mind that, for talking to my husband like you were. Who the hell do you think you are?”

“Did you hear anything he said? Or just me?”

“He was defending me. Defending US. Don’t try throwing Tyler under the bus when I heard nearly every goddamn word.  An easy fuck? That's how you see your own sister?”

He sighs. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant that...”

“Tyler didn’t take advantage of me. Not in the slightest. We were two consenting adult and we wanted to fuck each other so we did. What we did during those five days has no bearing on you. None whatsoever. You have no clue what went on. The things we talked about. The plans we made. And we had them. Plans. To get to know one another the right way. To travel and to spend time learning about one another. But we never got that chance.”

“Esme...I....”

“You weren’t in Dhaka,” she continues, and wanders over to the sink; dampening the dish cloth and offering it to Tyler; so he can clean the open wounds on his knuckles.  And he accepts it with a small, grateful smile and leans back against the island. “We were. You weren’t on that bridge You have no idea how bad things were and how bad things got and how worse they could have been. So keep your goddamn mouth shut about Dhaka.”

“All I was trying to say was...”

“I’m talking now, Kyle. It’s my turn. You’re in my house. And you will not disrespect me and you sure as hell will not disrespect the father of my kids. I stayed here after Dhaka because I wanted to. Because I wanted to be with Tyler. Because he needed someone to be there for him. Because busted his ass to get me out that god awful shitty mess and the least I could do was stick around and make sure he didn’t die alone. Because he almost did. Not just on that bridge, either. I stayed because I wanted to. Simple as that.”

“Fine,” Kyle throws his hands up in exasperation, and moves towards the patio door. “You did what YOU wanted. You didn’t care about the people you left behind. You were immature and selfish and...”

“You don’t get to walk away from me,” Esme steps in front of him. “You got yourself into this mess, you’re going stick with it until the bitter end. You come in here and talk shit? Well now you’re going to get it right back. I had a shitty ex-husband who liked to rape and beat on women and a narcissistic bitch of a mother and older brothers with their heads so far up her ass....”

“Baby...”  Tyler steps forward, using his shoulder to shove Kyle out of the way so he can stand in front of her; hand settling on her hip. “...settle down, okay? Just stay calm. I know you’re pissed...”

She ignores him. “I made a life for myself in Australia,” she informs her brother. “I became a wife and a mother and I’m sorry if you think that’s selfish of me for choosing that over my shitty existence in Colorado. And selfish? Because I did what I wanted for a change instead of what everyone else expected of me? That’s bullshit and you know it. You’re just upset I’m not under your thumb anymore. That’s all you’re pissed about. You and mom.”

“You’re going to resort to shit talking her? She’s practically on her death bed and you’re going to stoop that low?”

“I don’t give a shit about her. The second she wished death on my husband...the father of her grandchildren...it was over between us. She’s not my mother, Kyle. She hasn’t been my mother in years. Maybe she never was. And I don’t care that she’s dying. Maybe it’s karma. Maybe she finally is getting what she deserves.”

“Okay...that’s enough...” Tyler gently orders. “...let’s not say shit you know you’re going to regret.”

“It’s too late for that,” she says. “The second my brother opened his goddamn mouth when it comes to things he has no clue about. I’m not trapped here, Kyle. He's not some fucking predator like Mark was. What do you think Tyler’s doing? Hiding my birth control or poking holes in condoms just so he can get me pregnant? That is the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard, and I’ve heard a lot of dumb shit in the past thirty-five years.”

“Baby....stop...this has gone too far...” Tyler’s hands are on the side of her face, thumbs brushing away the tears she hadn’t even realized she was shedding. “...stop, okay? You’ve said enough.”

“He has no clue! Absolutely no clue!”

“I know. And you getting this upset is not going to change that. Just let it go. It’s not worth it; getting this riled up.”

“He has no idea. What we’ve been through. What went down in Dhaka and on that bridge.”

“We don’t need to talk about that. He wasn’t there. He doesn’t know what happened. And he doesn’t need to know. It was almost seven years ago. Let’s not talk about Dhaka.”

“You almost died,” her words manage to come out through choked, angry sobs. “On a dirty fucking sidewalk with my fingers shoved in your neck trying to stop you from bleeding out. You almost died right in front of me.”  

“But I didn’t,” he firmly reminds her. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

“And you almost died in the hospital. During surgery. Twice. And he has the goddamn nerve to act like it was no big deal? That is so fucking disrespectful to you and what you went through and what you still go through.”

“Esme....” Kyle attempts to step around his brother in law but meets resistance. “I’m sorry.  I....”

“Don’t touch her,” Tyler calmly orders. “Don’t even talk to her. You have no clue what’s going on right now.  Stay out of it. I’ve got it under control.”

“You do? Because it doesn’t fucking look like it.”

“Would you just shut the fuck up and go and do something else while I deal with this? You have no clue what she’s talking about or why she’s talking about it.  So back off.”

“She’s my sister! If there’s something I can do for her...”

“Leave her alone. That’s the best thing you can do for her. Leave her alone and let me deal with it. It’s PTSD, you fucking idiot. You can’t just jump in and fix shit. Fuck. Just let me deal with it.”

  This hasn’t happened in months; where the mere mention of Dhaka triggers such a powerful reaction. The last time had been at the therapist’s office, when Esme was asked about her most painful memory of the last ten years. That had led to a full out meltdown complete with hyperventilating and vomiting. After that the therapist had helped them come up with ‘plan of attack’; highlighting the warning signs and how he could either help talk her down before things escalated, or calm things once they got out of control.

“I just want him to leave,” she struggles to draw breath. “Make him leave. Please.”

“He’s just worried about you,” Tyler attempts to reason. “He’s your brother and he loves you and he’s worried about you. Don’t even pay attention to him. Pretend he’s not even here. Pretend it’s just us in the room and no one else.”

“I can see him though,” panic is starting to set in. “I know he’s here.”

“Close your eyes, then,” Tyler cradles her face in his hands and tilts her head up towards him. “Just close your eyes and listen to my voice, okay?”

She nods, her hands coming up to tightly grip his forearms as she allows her eyes to flutter closed. And he presses a kiss to the bridge of her nose and rests his forehead against hers.

“It’s okay, baby...” his voice is quiet, keeping the volume low and the tone steady and soothing. “We’re not in Dhaka anymore. It’s over. It’s all behind us now. We don’t ever have to go back there. We made it out. Both of us. We’re both here. And that’s all that matters. We both made it.”

*****

Within minutes she’s settling; her body ceasing to tremble, her tears stopping, her breathing returning to normal.  And when the crisis has passed, sweat is glistening on her forehead and her skin is a pale, deathly gray.  

He kisses her forehead once more, followed by her lips.  “You okay now? You gonna be alright?”

Nodding, she manages a small smile.

“Go outside and get some air. You’ll feel better. I’ll get you some water and your meds, okay?”

“Okay,” she feebly agrees, and he places his lips against cheek and runs a hand over her hair.  

“Leave her,” he snarls at Kyle, when he attempts to step into her path. “For fuck sake, just leave her alone.”

Kyle backs off, holding his hands up in surrender. Then waits for his sister to step and is out of earshot before speaking again. “What the hell was that?” he asks, as he follows Tyler into further into the kitchen. “Like what the fuck?”

“It happens every so often when she’s stressed about something. Usually it has to do with Dhaka. When some fucking shit for brains brings it up.”

“Jesus Christ,” Kyle mutters. “Was it really that bad?”

Tyler scoffs. “Oh, I don’t know, mate. She had to stick her fingers in my neck so she could pinch a vein off to stop me from bleeding out all over her. What do you think?”

“I guess I didn’t. Think.”

“Yeah no shit. You have no idea what went down over there. Everything she went through. Everything she saw. Especially on that bridge. So do me a favor and don’t bring it up. Ever.”

“I never realized it was THAT bad, I guess.”

“How could you not have realized it? You know I almost fucking died. That she was the one that saved me. She’s your sister. How could you not realize that would have fucked her right up?”  He yanks the fridge open, snagging a bottle of water before shutting the door with his hip, then grabs a prescription bottle from a cupboard near the stove.  “She was dealing with it just fine until all this shit with Ovi started. And let’s not even get into what happened when Nik decided to pop back up.”

“You know she says you guys were fucking, right? Within the last six and a half years. Since you and Esme got married. She told me. That you her and have been hooking up.  Least a dozen times. If not more.”

“She’s full of shit. I haven’t fucking touched her since I met your sister. I wouldn’t cheat on my wife. I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a cheater.”

“I’m not saying I believe her. Not in the slightest. I don’t think you would. Fuck around on Esme. I mean you’ve done some shitty things, but I don’t think you’d do THAT.”

“I wouldn’t. Ever. Not even in the six months when we were separated did I even think about cheating on her, let alone actually do it. I’m not crazy. I know what I have. I’m not losing it.”

Kyle nods slowly as he considers Tyler’s words. “I just thought you should know. In case she calls her or shows up trying to cause shit.”

Tyler’s eyes narrow. “What the fuck have you done?”

“What I should have done that night after Esme called Nik out at dinner. I told her it was over That it just wasn’t going to work. That we’re just too different and her career doesn’t exactly leave room for a marriage, let alone a successful one.”

“So it’s done? Totally? You and her?”

“It never should have started in the first place. It was a bitch move. Getting mixed up with someone who tried to ruin my sister’s life.”

Tyler smirks. “You think?”

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad she didn’t. Screw things up with you and Esme. I mean, you can be a real dick, but I know you love her. And I know she’s happy here. That she’s happy with her life. As a wife and a mother.”

“I like to think she is. Happy. And she’s amazing at both. I’m lucky. Even if that’s something I don’t say often enough.”

“It’s all I want for her, you know. To be happy. Especially after all that shit with Mark.”

“We try not to talk about that around here either. And look, no offence, but when I tell you I’m dealing with something...when I say I’ve got things under control...fucking listen to me the next time. Because I live with her. I’ve been living with her for almost seven years now. I’ve been the one with her through all the bullshit and all the hard times. All the nightmares and the panic attacks and the freak outs. I’ve been the one dealing with all of that. You just made shit worse. I would have had her talked down a lot sooner but you just kept escalating shit. When I tell you to back off, just do it.”

“Fair enough,” Kyle agrees.

“You and the neighbor, huh? Is that the real reason you broke things off with Nik?”

Kyle follows him through the kitchen, out into the living room and towards the patio door. “There’s nothing between Salena and I. Nothing serious, anyway. We’re just having a good time.”

Tyler smirks. “You mean your dick’s having a good time.”

Kyle gives a sly grin.

“Mine had a good time last time last night too, so...”

“Jesus Christ,” his brother in law scowls. “That’s my sister.”

“I’ve made five kids with your sister. I think it’s obvious we have sex.”

“Doesn’t mean I want to hear about it. Or think about it.”

“Look...” Tyler pauses, fingers curling around the handle of patio door.  “I don’t know what’s going on with you and the neighbor and I honestly don’t give a shit, but I’m going to be pissed if Nik shows up to cause problems. I don’t need that crap. Esme especially doesn’t need it. We’ve got enough going on without having to put up with her.”

“I told her not to bother you guys. To leave you both out of it.”

“Yeah? And when does Nik ever do what she’s told? You trying to tell her what to do probably just pissed her off even more. I just don’t want that shit here. Around my wife and my kids.”

“Think she’ll call Esme? Tell her the same thing you told me? That you guys were hooking up.”

“She better hope she doesn’t. And you better not say anything to your sister, either. Because it’s not true. I’ve never cheated on her. I never will. So if you don’t keep your mouth shut....”

“Won’t say a word,” Kyle promises. “I don’t understand how it even got this far. Nik wanting on your dick for this long.”

“Well if you saw my dick, you’d understand. I mean, it’s kept your sister around, right?”

Kyle smirks. “So did she catch the feels or something? Nik?”

“Guess so.”

“But you never did.”

“I never saw her as anything more than a boss or a friend. We used to fuck. That’s it. Nothing serious. I never wanted it to be. She never got like this until after Esme and I got together. It pissed her off that we were fucking on the job. And then it pissed her off even more when things went further than that. Guess she thought I’d never settle down.”

“Or if you did, you’d settle down with her.”

“Who knows. Doesn’t matter anyway. I never saw her that way. I never saw anyone that way until your sister came along. I’d already done the marriage thing. Once was enough. I pretty much avoid forming any kind of connection with someone. No one needed to get mixed up in that kind of mess.  Never met a woman that could put with it; the job and everything that came with it. It needed to be someone pretty fucking strong. No one I ever met fit that bill.”

“Weak women need not apply, huh?”

“Pretty much. Then your sister came along and...”  he shrugs. “...I don’t know...here we are.”

“Almost seven years and five kids later,” Kyle concludes. “Think there might be a six?”

“Why are you so hung up on us having another kid? Addie's only three weeks. Still new.”

“Make it a nice even number,” Kyle reasons. “Half a dozen. You haven’t thought about it?”

“A couple times, maybe.”

That’s a lie; over the past three days he’s thought about it at least a few dozen times. But he’s not sure if he actually wants a sixth one, or that the idea of getting dragged back into the unpredictability and the danger of the job makes him feel as if he NEEDS to have another. A way of ‘cementing his legacy’.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to talk your sister into it,” Tyler says. “She already gave in the last two times I changed my mind.”

“This thing that happened...” Kyle gazes out the window, nodding towards where his sister sits at the top of the patio stairs, arms wrapped around her slender form. “...the PTSD or whatever. She’ll be okay, right?”

“She usually is. Takes about a half hour, hour, before she’s back to normal.”

“Will it ever go away? Or is just something she’ll have to learn to live with?”

“It’s pretty damn permanent,” Tyler reluctantly admits.

And he both blames and hates himself for it.

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary -Chapter 54

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @thordoodaday​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @valkyrie-of-the-light​

“You know, I should really beat the shit out of you.”

Tyler glances up from his cell phone as his brother in law joins him on the front porch. He'd only woken up a half an hour before; hair still messy, sleep still clouding his vision, brain still slightly foggy. The lingering effects of jet lag and his body still getting used to being back on the meds. It's four thirty in afternoon and he feels as if he could sleep forever. And while Nik's security people patrol the perimeter of the property and the women have headed into town to grab groceries, he'd retreated to the front porch; a cup of steaming black coffee sitting on one side of him,  and the roughly sketched out New Zealand plans (along with a bright yellow highlighter and a pen) on the other.  For the time being he's focused on returning the many text messages that Ovi and Nathan -the young Marine- have sent him. New Zealand is still very much up in the air; he hasn't made his mind up yet one way or the other, but promised Yaz and the others that he'd at least look things over.

He smirks, then looks back down at his phone.  “You can try if you want, mate. But I don't suggest it. Not if you know what's good for you.”

Tyler wouldn't go as far as calling them friends; close acquaintances, maybe. They talked on occasion; Kyle was the only member of Esme's entire family that wanted anything to do with him and had always been willing to give him a chance, even right from the get go when he'd wandered into their lives as the complete stranger who'd (in Esme's mother's words), 'stole her away from them'.  Kyle had argued that his sister was a grown woman who was more than capable of making her own decisions when it came to what -and who- she wanted, and in turn that had ostracized him from most of his family. He didn't give a shit; in the same way Tyler didn't give a shit whether they liked him or what. And they'd bonded over that, along with the fact they both loved her and the kids.

But friends is stretching it.  He's an immensely private person; he doesn't even like the people who are considered friends knowing his business.

“Want one?” Kyle asks, as he taps Tyler in the shoulder with the six pack of beer that dangles in his hand.

He shakes his head. “I told my wife I wouldn't drink anymore. I meant it.”  He couldn't control it when he did; one would turn into two and two into half a dozen and pretty soon he was close to polishing over a case of twenty four on his own and was drunk off his ass. He'd been sober for a year and a half following Dhaka; the time in the hospital and all the rehab had him getting clean and sober. But he'd gone back on the job and the things he started both seeing and doing again had been too much to handle and booze had been a lot better than going back to the drugs.  Or at least in his mind it had been.

“Things were getting out of hand?” Kyle takes a seat beside him on the top step.

“You could say that.”

“Guess it's probably best to avoid it when you're on meds anyway.”

It's a casual comment; thrown out there to see if it will get a reaction from Tyler.  It doesn't.  All he gives is a simple, “Guess so”, and takes a sip of his coffee.  

Kyle takes a swig of his beer, then leans forward and picks up the pieces of paper that sit on the step below them; briefly scanning them, a frown on his face.

“None of your fucking business,” Tyler says before his brother in law can even ask, and he snatches the papers from Kyle's hand and places them beside him, underneath his coffee mug and cell phone. “If you're here to bust my balls about something, I'm not in the mood.”

“She's my sister.”

“Yeah? Well she's my wife.”

“Your pregnant wife,” Kyle points out. “And you're seriously thinking about going and doing this? Whatever the hell is going down in New Zealand?”

“Like I said, not your fucking business.”

“She is my business. She's my kid sister. It doesn't matter if she's married to you or not.  I still have the right to protect her. To want what's best for her.”

“And you think I do that? Protect her? You think I don't want what's best for her?”

“How is leaving her here to go back to work what's best for her? When you know that she's not doing well and that there could be problems with the baby? How is that what's best for Esme? Don't you think it will just stress her out even more? Worrying about you? That's definitely not what she needs. Or what this baby needs.”

“Since when did you become a goddamn expert on what your sister needs? You think just coming around here once or twice a month means you know anything about her? I've been with her for five and a half years. I think I've got a little more experience in what's best for her.”

“Which is why you took off when she was having the twins right? When she was having all those problems and you still took off.”

“I know you think it was some kind of easy decision. And that I'm a selfish asshole for making it, but I had to make a hard call when it came to taking care of my family.  Your mother isn't handing us all kinds of cash like she does with all the others. She doesn't even remember when the kids' birthdays are. I actually have to work. And I had a wife and a little girl to take care of, two kids on the way, and I had to pay a mortgage, put food on the table, pay the bills. You think I wanted to leave? I had to leave. I did it because I didn't have a fucking choice. And you can go back and tell your mother that. Because I bet that's not the version she tells everyone. Her version is me just up and abandoning my pregnant wife and my little girl. And that's not how it happened. Far from it.”

“But why this job? Why this kind of thing? Why not something else? Anything else?”

“Because I'm fucking good at it, that's why.”

“Maybe it's the kind of life for a single guy. Maybe when you didn't have a wife and kids it seemed like the ideal thing to do. But why now? When you have so much to lose? Why would want to even take that chance? That you might not come back and you'll leave her with four kids? Soon it'll be fine. Why would you want that for her? For them?”

“Look, I've been doing this job a long time. Before I even met your sister. I met her because of the job. She knew who I was. What I was. And she made the decision to stick around. She said yes when I asked her to marry me. Knowing what kind of life she was getting into. And let's not pretend she's completely innocent in all of this. Do you know what she used to do? And if you say she was into a business, I will honestly punch you in the fucking face.”

“She told me. That she was into intel.”

“Do you know the kind of people that she helped bring down? The kind of people she went up against? That she lied to and played and conned? She's who would lead guys like me to the bad guys. Not just bad guys. Horrible guys.  Guys that hurt innocent people. Women and children, even. If it wasn't for her, guys like me wouldn't even have a body count or a payout. So let's not pretend that she wasn't in this life too.”

“But she gave it up. After what happened to you in Bangladesh.”

“She didn't have to. She did that willingly. Your sister doesn't do anything that's not her idea, trust me.”

“To stay there and take care of you,” Kyle points out.

“And she didn't have to do that either. But she did. And I'm glad she did. Because if she hadn't, we wouldn't have Millie. Or the boys. Or the baby we're having now. Where the fuck are you going with all this? How is this any of your business to begin with?”

“She's my sister.”

“I don't fucking care. She's my wife. I think that takes precedence, don't you. Look, I know you love her and I know you want to protect her. And you're a good brother and you're a great uncle. But don't stick your nose in my business. Our business.  I don't let your mother do it and I'm not letting you do it. No matter how much I like you.”

“I'm just worried about her. And the baby.”

“And I'm not? I didn't just come back all the way from Ireland to make sure their okay? Fuck off, Kyle. I'm not in the mood for this shit. I'm tired, I'm sore, I've got a lot of shit on my plate. I appreciate that you're here for her and I don't care if you stick around, just stay out of our business.”

“So are you?”

“Am I what? Tired of your twenty fucking questions? Yeah, I am, actually.”

His cell phone vibrates next to him; another text from Ovi.  And he picks it up to read and return it, hoping his brother in law will take the hint that this conversation is officially over.  He'd told Ovi that he needed to stall for a couple days; not to return to Colorado until he knew for sure if he was going back to New Zealand or not. He didn't want the kids coming home, discovering that he was there, and then having their hearts broken when he left again.”

“Are you going to New Zealand?” Kyle presses.

“I don't know. I haven't made up my mind yet.”

“You really think you should?”

“What I think is that you need to mind your own business. This has nothing to do with you. It's a decision I'm going to make, with my wife.  So drop it, yeah? Worry more about yourself and less about me.”

“I'm worried about my sister.”

Tyler sighs. “And so am I, mate. Which is why I came home and which is why I'm going to talk about this with her. Not you. Her.”

“Just tell me who you do this. I'm not talking about New Zealand. I'm talking about this in general. This kind of job.”

“Like I said, I'm good at it. What more do you need to know?”

“How'd you even get into this? Why not just stay in the military and...”

“We're not close enough for me to get into all the depressing and fucked up reasons why I started doing what I do. Or how I ended up as messed up as I am. I got into the job, I stayed in it, end of story.”

“And my sister just willingly stayed. Even knowing what you do. That you kill people.”

“I didn't hold a gun to her, did I? So yeah. She's willingly stayed. And when this is over...this job...I'm done. For good. And she knows that. She told me I had to choose and that's actually what I did. I chose her. And my kids. Now is there anything else you want to ask me or are you done pissing me off now?”

“Just tell me one thing...”

Tyler smirks. “That was actually a rhetorical question, mate.”

“If you love her as much as you claim you do, why get her involved in this in the first place? Why didn't you just cut her loose? When you woke up in the hospital and found out that she'd given up everything for you, why didn't you just tell her to go back home? To leave you alone? Why'd you let her stay?”

“What kind of fucking question is that? Because I was in love her, that's why. And I didn't want her to leave.”

“Do you realize how selfish that is? You know how screwed up this life would be for her. How hard it would be. How dangerous it would be. Why would you want that for her? I get that you guys found out she was having Millie. But that should have been an even bigger reason to let her go. Bring her and a baby into all of this?”

“You know what, you're overstepping big time here. Your sister had the choice. She could have left. She didn't go.”

“How hard did you try to convince her? Because something tells me if wasn't hard enough or she would have been on the next flight home. Why would you do that to her? Let her stay. Knowing what her life would be like?”

“Your sister and I have had a good life. We've had our issues. I'm not denying that. But our life together has been pretty good. It's been fucking amazing at times. So you need to back off and leave us alone. Let us be married, let us raise our kids together, grow old together. What does it matter what happened five and a half years ago? She chose to stay. End of story.”

“And you chose to let her life like this. The constant stress, the worry, the fear. And for what? Because you love her? If you loved her, you never would have wanted to get her involved in all of this. You wouldn't have let her. It's fucking selfish and you know it.”

“We're done here.” Tyler says, and gathering up the empty mug and stack of papers, stands up, knee cracking noisily. “I don't owe you an explanation. I love your sister. More than I ever thought it was possible to love someone. And if that makes me a selfish fuck, then I guess that's what I have to live with..  But don't come to my house and start this shit. You've got the wrong guy to pull this crap with. Why don't you go back to worrying about what Nik is up to. Go and jerk off some more while thinking about her. Whatever will keep you out of my business.”

“You know,” Kyle calls after him. “You can be a real dick.”

Tyler doesn't respond; the screen door slamming shut behind him.

****

They sit on the front porch swing; sun long set, a gentle breeze rustling the tree tops.  She lays on her back, covered in an old tattered plaid blanket, head in his lap, his hand a familiar yet still welcome weight as it rests on her stomach,  his one foot moving the seat back and forth. It's nice to have this; something normal and familiar. Even when everything around them seems anything but.

“The nurse said if I'm still keeping everything down tomorrow, I can get this stupid thing taken out,” Esme comments, her nose crinkled in disgust as she holds up the hand with IV in it. “Fuck this thing.”

“You're supposed to keep it flat,” Tyler scolds, and lifts his hand from her stomach long enough to take hold of her wrist and bring her hand down onto her body. “So air doesn't get into it and the line doesn't get fucked up.”

“Well if the line gets fucked, they'll just have to take it out sooner. Or maybe you can. You pulled your own at least a half a dozen times when you were in the hospital. So technically, you'd be able to take mine out, right?”

“That's a no,” he says, and lays his hand on her forearm, opting not to put the pressure and weight on the IV site. “It's there for a reason,” he reminds her.

“I haven't puked all day,” she points out.

“And that's good and I'm proud of you, but it has to stay. Until at least tomorrow when we go and see the doctor. It's his decision. Not mine. And definitely not yours.”

“While we're there we can ask him to clarify the sex thing. I'm sure he would have told me if I couldn't.”

“He said to avoid things that get your blood pressure up. I'm pretty sure that means sex is a no.”

“I'm surprised you're so agreeable. Knowing how intense your sex drive is.”

“It's better to be safe than sorry, yeah? Now shut up about sex.”

She laughs. “Nice poker face. It's bothering you more than you're letting on. You're good. You seem so clam and neutral about things. Inside you're dying, aren't you?”

“Maybe just a little.”

She stares at him pointedly.

“Okay, maybe a lot. We're not used to having to take things easy. We didn't even take things that easy after the kids were born. So yeah, I'm feeling it. Can you blame me? My wife is the most beautiful, insanely sexy woman on the planet.”

“Baby, you're so biased.”

“Maybe,” he grins. “But it doesn't make it less true.”

She smiles, and he leans down to kiss her softly.

“For what it's worth,” she says. “I'm dying too. Because my hormones are just going crazy and I am so horny for you right now.”

“Just now?”

“All the time,” she giggles. “And it's like that when I'm not pregnant. And now it's ten times as bad. And you talk about having to take cold showers.  I should go just go and sit in the freezer to save water.'

He chuckles at that, then kisses her once more. Longer this time, but no less soft and tender, his eyes on hers as lays his free hand on the top of her head, thumb repeatedly brushing against her forehead.

“Don't look at me like that,” she pouts dramatically.

“Like what?”

“Like that. With your stupid blue eyes and your stupid crazy handsome face and your stupid hair falling in your eyes,” she reaches up to push the longer strands off his forehead.

Tyler grins. “I'm not allowed to look at you now?”

“Not like that.”

“I'm not looking at you any different than I do all the time.”

“Oh yes you are. You just can't tell. But I can.  There are really dirty things going through your mind right now.”

“Maybe.”

“You can hide these things from me. I know you so well. I don't know why you underestimate that all the time. I've spent five and a half years with you. I know all your different looks. All your expressions. All your body language. You so want me right now.”

“In all fairness, I want you all the time.”

“But right now, it's extra bad isn't it. Admit it. Don't be shy. You want to fuck me so bad right now.”

He nods. “There's some really, really dirty shit I want to do to you right now.”

“And who says romance is dead?” she quips, and he kisses her even longer this time; the brief glide of tongue against tongue, their heart rates increasing, breath quickening.  “I'm pretty sure it's okay,” she insists. “They would have said something at the hospital today.”

“And I'm pretty sure we can wait until we talk to the doctor tomorrow.”

She frowns. “You suck, Tyler.  You're the worst.”

“It's just better to wait, okay? To know for sure.  Humour me. Please.”

“I like this side of you. The dotting husband side. It's a very attractive look on you. Maybe I'll let you baby me and take care of me from now on.”

“I thought you hated when I did that shit. You've always complained about it before.”

“I promise I will never complain about it again. Because it makes me feel like a Queen and it's sexy as fuck on you. Not that you need to be any more sexier than you already are. What a terrible burden you have to bear. Looking like you do. I don't know how you do it every day. How can you stand looking at yourself in the mirror? I look like a troll and you look like that. Life is so unfair.”

“You do not look like a troll. Not anywhere close to it. You know I think you're beautiful. I always have. I always will.”

She smiles. “There you go being a softie again. You're just on a roll today. You're in fine form. What's gotten into you?”

“Nothing. What? I'm not allowed to be this way with my wife? You're the only one I can be this way with. Everyone else expects something different.”

“Doesn't mean you have to give it to them, You don't always have to be the assertive, confident, tough guy you know. You can be human.”

“I'll save being human for you. You won't get on my ass about it.”

“If people don't like you the way you are...the real way you are...well fuck them.  I happen to love all sides of you.”

“And you're the only one that matters, so...” he pecks her lips. “....let it go.”

“You're so difficult,” she sighs, and reaching for his hand, she laces their fingers together and brings them down to rest on her stomach once more. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Okay....”

“And I don't want you to freak out. Promise me you won't freak out.”

“Why would I freak out? Is there where you tell me that Manny the UPS guy might be the father?”

She smirks.

“What is it? What do you need me to do.”

“I need you to be gone before the kids get back.”

He looks down at her, eyes narrowed.

“Don't look at me like that,” she pleads. “I don't mean it in the way you think I do.  I just don't want them coming home and seeing you here and being excited about it and then you leave them the next day. That's not fair to them. They miss you so much and it kills them when you're away. I think it's just better that they don't know you were here.”

“Baby, I already told Ovi not to bring them back yet. Until I told him if I was leaving or not. I'm one step ahead of you.”

“That's the last time I will ever underestimate you. You're getting quick in your old age.”

“And who says I'm leaving anyway?”

“You just said you talked to Ovi and told him not to bring the kids back.”

“No, I told him to hold him to hold off for a couple of days until I told him one way or the other. Not that  I was for sure leaving.”

“You're leaving.”

“Says who?”  

“Me.”

Tyler chuckles. “And it's up to you because...”

“Because I know what will happen if you don't go. You will have it on your mind for the rest of your life. You'll constantly wonder what happened to those kids. If they were ever found. If they're still alive.  I know you, Tyler. I know that will stay with you.”

“I'm sure I'll find out one way or another what happened to them.”

“That won't make things any better. Say they never get out of there and they die. You will blame yourself.  You will always believe that they died because you weren't there to get them out. You will have that on your conscience for the rest of your life, and I do not want that for you.  You're supposed to be retiring. It won't be much of a retirement if you can't rest.  And you won't rest if you don't do this.”

“It doesn't need to be me, Esme. That goes in.”

“Yes. It does. And you know it does. And I know you've been thinking about those kids since you go home.  I know they've been on your mind. I'm not faulting you for that. I know how your brain works.  You gave your word that you'd get them out and it doesn't matter how big of a bastard McMann turned out to be. You promised you'd get those kids and it's been on your mind ever since you made that promise. You need to be there and you know it.”

“I need to be here,” he insists. “ With you.”

“No, you don't. Things are fine. I'm okay. The baby's okay.  And the doctor is going to tell you the same thing tomorrow. Nik is here, my brother is here. You don't need to be here.”

“Bullshit. I'm your husband. That's my kid in there.”

“And we're both fine,” she insists. “And it's amazing you came and I love you so much for it. Because before you probably never would have done it. You would have been fine with people being here with me. Like when I was pregnant with the twins. So I think it's incredible that you came all this way. But you need to go.  Not just for those kids. But for yourself.”

Sighing heavily, he closes his eyes and leans his head back against the brick behind him.

“You know I'm right,” she says. “And I know you think it makes you a shitty husband for wanting to go. But it doesn't. You think it means that you're abandoning me. But you're really abandoning those kids. Because you're their only hope. You want go, right? You can admit it. I'm not going to be mad. I'm not going to think less of you. You want to go New Zealand, don't you.”

He nods.

“Then go. I'm not going to stop you. I'm telling you to do it. I'm telling you I want you to do it. Because I don't want you staying and then spending the rest of your life blaming yourself for what happens to them.  You have enough going on up in your head; enough to deal with. You don't need that too.  I don't want that for you. That kind of torment.  You've been through enough without putting yourself through that.”

“And if I don't make it back?” he asks.  “Then what? Then you'll be on your own with four kids. Soon five. And then what? If we're going to talk about this, we might as talk about all of it. Say I go back and something happens, what then?”

“Well, I deal with it, I guess. I don't know what you want me to say. I don't even like thinking about that; something happening to you.”

“You said it yourself, these people are dangerous. More dangerous than I've ever gone up against it. So there's a chance I'm never coming back from this. You realize that, right?”

She nods, tears welling in her eyes. “I've known for five and a half years that it could happen. Every time you walk out the door. And it almost happened in Dhaka.”

“This going to be worse than Dhaka. Way worse.”

“And you'll be fine. You'll go in there and you'll get those kids and you'll get the hell out and you'll come home.”

“Esme, you need to prepare yourself. For the worst case scenario. And it fucking kills me inside to even talk about it. But I need you to think about it. I need you be ready for it.”

“How can I be ready for something like that? There's no way to be ready for something like that.”

“You know where everything is, right? All the paperwork? Everything you would need to take to a lawyer. You know where that all is, right?”

Nodding, she wipes at the tears that trickle down her cheeks.

“If something happens and I don't come back, you take the money and you take the kids and you go. You don't stay here. Because chances are, those people won't stop. So you take the money and get the fuck out of here and you don't look back. Promise me. That you'll do that.”

“I promise.”

“And you do whatever you have to do to change your name. To change their names. You have to do that. There can't be anything left of me. No trace. It has to be like I never existed. You understand that, right?”

She nods.

“Nik will help you. She can help with all that. She's had to do it for other people.”

“I don't want to talk about this,” she sobs. “Please stop. I don't want to hear this.”

“You'll be fine. You and the kids will be fine. You're strong. The strongest person I've ever met. And you'll go on with your life and you'll be fine. I promise.”

“Stop, Tyler,” she begs. “Please just stop. I don't want to hear this.”

“You have to. You have to hear it and you have to listen to me.”

She shakes her head. “You're going to be fine. You're going to get those kids and you're going to come home. There's no other choice. You have to come home.”

“I'm going to try my best. You know that.”

“That's not what I need to hear. I need to hear you say you're going to come back.”

“I can't, baby. I can't promise you that. Because that's not a promise I'm sure I can keep. But you'll be fine. You and the kids will be okay. That I can promise you.”

He leans down to kiss her. Tasting the salt of her tears on her lips.

“So you're going then?” she asks. “You're going to New Zealand?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “I'm going.”

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 28

Warnings: none

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @alievans007​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​

After lunch they pay a visit to Port Douglas beach. The town is popular among tourists and the area is packed; every inch crammed with families in swimsuits and pop up shelters, young adults playing football and frisbee, children building sandcastles and running in and out of the water. There’s no rush to get home. Kyle and Ovi have the boys under control and there are still a lot of hours left in the day. It’s been a long one already; the panic attack in the middle of the road, the disastrous ending to what had started as a relatively positive and pleasant visit with Tyler’s father.

Neither of them speak about it; Millie is young and impressionable and over the moon about having a grandfather in her life and neither want to ruin that for her. She’s done nothing but talk about her time there; the kisses and the cuddles and the silver dollar and getting a chipmunk to eat out of her hand. And it made them both smile as they listened to her; that joyful rambling and those musical giggles and the exuberance over her upcoming birthday party. Neither have the heart ro rain on her parade; not wanting to break her heart with the cold hard fact that her grandfather probably won’t even show up that day. It’s who he is. Who he’s always been. And while she’d be initially crushed, having all of her friends at the house -and the appearance of her new puppy- would help her recover quickly, telling her too soon would cause her to dwell. Which would only work her up into an emotional frenzy that would be almost impossible to control.

While she plays in the surf -princess dress and all- they lounge in the sand; spreading out a tattered and well loved blanket that Tyler had brought along from the truck. It’s seen a lot of years; the same one they’d sit on when they’d take Millie to the beach when she was Addie’s age. Or on trips to the park or out for picnics or on camping trips when they’d live in Colorado. And had been around since before then; the edges frayed, holes patched together with messy stitching, the colors faded. Sometimes she wonders just what that blanket has seen; the history and the memories that those fibres hold. If it had ever been taken on excursions like this with his first family. If his ex wife had sat on the very spot where she sits now nursing their baby, if Austin had ever laid on it when he was Addie’s age or if he had ever been wrapped around his wet and shivering body when there’d been no towel to be had.

She knows it sounds stupid; even thinking about things like that and allowing them to get under her skin. And in the past six and half years the only part of his previous life  she’d ever thought about or they’d ever really discussed was Austin’s illness and eventual death. Even after Sarah had shown up at the hospital following Dhaka, she’d never sat back and thought of the fact he’d been someone else’s husband first. So caught up in spending every waking moment at his bedside and then finding out she was pregnant that everything seemed irrelevant. And normally it doesn’t bother her; the thought of him being with someone else. Hell, he’s been with lots of women by his own admission and she’d never thought twice about it or even cared what or who’d been done prior to her. Aside from Nik.  His past is just that. In the same way hers is.  But when your father in law –sick or not- constantly refers to you by the ex-wife's name despite the fact it’s been sixteen years and the two of you look nothing alike, it tends to weigh you down.

She tries to put it out of her mind, concentrating on the baby pressed to her chest as she feeds, and Millie twenty yards away already making friends.

“I don’t know how she does it,” she comments. “Everywhere we go it’s like this.”

Tyler lies on his stomach beside her, a cheek resting on the forearm he’d been using as a pillow. And he raises his head and glances over his shoulder to where his daughter is sitting in the wet sand, playing and animatedly conversing with other kids.  

“Give it a few minutes,” he says. “She’ll punch one of them in the face and that’ll be the end of it.”

Esme frowns.

“She’s like you,” he says with a yawn, and rests his back down on his arm, face turned towards her.

“I don’t punch people in the face five minutes after I meet them.”

“I don’t mean that. I mean she’s social. She makes friends easily. People are drawn to her. It’s the same way with you.”

“I was paid to be that way.”

“You can’t fake shit like that. People either like you or they don’t. It was just a plus that it made it easier to sweet talk and manipulate them afterwards.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or...”

“I mean it worked on me didn’t it,” he chides.

“You’re such an ass sometimes,” she complains, but there’s a smile on her face as she leans down to place a chaste on his lips.

“You think you’d be used to that after almost seven years.”

“I obviously am. I’m still here, aren’t I.”

“Yeah...”  he grins and reaches out to lay a hand on her thigh. “You are. For some goddamn reason you’re still around. And I’m still putting up with it.”

“You’d be miserable if I suddenly wasn’t around anymore. Well, more miserable than you already are,” she teases, and then gives a small yelp and directs a kick in his direction when he pinches the inside of her thigh.  

Rolling over onto his back, he groans at the stiffness in his shoulders and neck as he props himself up on his elbows, knee audibly cracking when he stretches out his legs.

“Baby, every day your body is making more and more noise.” she comments, and while it’s meant to be playful, he can hear the concern that tinges the words.

“You think the noises are bad, you should feel what it’s like to be in this body.”

He’s been pushing himself too hard in the gym; extending hour and a half work out to nearly three. More work than he’d put into getting into the shape he’s in now. He’s already thirty pounds heavier than he’d been in Dhaka; shoulders and chest wider, arms bigger, calves and thighs more powerful.  He’s the most confident he’s been in years; physically he knows he’s up to any challenge that he could face IF he has to go get back into the game. The skills never leave you; they’ll come back quicker and sharper than ever once he trains Ovi.  His worry is his mental state; if his brain will be able to handle the strain and the pace and the things he’ll have to resort to in order to stay alive.

“She’s more like you than you realize,” Tyler says, as he watches Millie with her new friends; smiling at the sound of her laugh and the sight of her smile.

“Oh please,” Esme laughs. “Where do you see this? Because she is all you. Head to toe. You even have the same ears and the same feet. Never mind the facial expressions and the attitude.”

“There’s a lot of you in here. I see it more every day. How easy she trusts people and makes new friends. And never mind how fucking smart she is. She’s scary almost. That she’s THAT smart.”

“She’s the perfect mix of both of us, I guess. Everything that’s amazing in you and everything that’s amazing in me. Although I think we both know where she got all her bad stuff from.”

He stares at her pointedly.

“As if Tyler. She totally got her asshole side from you. You can’t convince me otherwise. Where do you think she got her temper and her mouth from?”

“And luckily for her, she got the looks from me too.”

“You’re such a fucker,” Esme laughs, and flicks her thumb and forefinger against his earlobe. “Are you calling me ugly?”

“Never. Look how beautiful Addie is and she looks just like you.”

She smirks. “That was an extremely good save on your part.”

“You know you’re the most beautiful woman in the world to me, baby. There’s no one that can come close to you and you know that.”

She does. It’s one of the things he’s always been good at ; making her feel like she’s the most incredible woman on the face of the earth. Always finding ways to let her know how beautiful she is in his eyes. It could be in his eyes when he simply looks at her; whether she’s dressed up with makeup on or it’s five thirty in the morning and her hair is a half assed ponytail and yesterday’s eyeliner is smudges and she already has baby puke on her pajamas. Or the little compliments he tosses if when she’s least expecting it, or how he kisses and touches her when their love making is slow and tender and he spends his time worshipping every inch of her body.  There’s never a time where she hasn’t felt unattractive in his eyes. Even when she’s constantly bringing attention to all her faults and blemishes.

“And I would be miserable,” he says. “If you weren’t around anymore.”

He hates thinking about it; what it would be like if -for some unknown and horrible reason- he found himself as a single father to give kids. And it’s been weighing heavier on his mind since Michael McMann had revealed all of the sick and twisted things he would have done to her before killing her. It has only added insult to injury; for years he’s been carrying around the secret of the real details behind Gaspar’s five million dollar offer and what Asif had had in store for her. Some of things are just better left unsaid, and it’s a burden he’s willing to carry for the rest of his life.

“You’re that used to me, are you?” She chides, attempting to inject a little humour into a suddenly tense situation. She knows how his brain works; the wheels that start turning when he begins to dwell on the ‘what if’s’.  And she hates the way his smile disappears and his features harden and eyes darken.  “You’ve gotten that spoiled? Having someone do your laundry, clean up after you, put out whenever you want.”

That manages to get a grin out of him, and he rolls over onto his side, pressing a kiss to her thigh before resting on his elbow, side of head in his palm.

“That’s your bad shoulder,” she points out.

“It’s fine. Hardly bothering me today.”

“And by hardly bothering you, you mean on a pain scale of one to ten, you’re at a twelve instead of...I don’t know...a hundred.”

“You worry too much.”

“Oh I’m sorry. I’m sorry I care about you and want you to be okay. I’m sorry that I’d you to live past fifty. That I’d like us to grow old and gray together and constantly drive one another instead until I take my last breath.”

“A bad shouldn’t isn’t going to kill me.”

“You said yourself it’s getting worse.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s going to put me in an early grave. So stop…” he reaches across his body with his free hand and rubs her knee, kissing her thigh once more. “I’m fine. I’ll get it looked at as soon as this shit with Ovi is done. I promise.”

“You’re so goddamn stubborn,” she huffs.

“So you tell me. Every single day. For the past almost seven years. I’m fine...honest…” his hand rests on her legal fingers brushing against the smooth, sensitive skin at the back of her knee. “If there was something really wrong, I’d tell you.”

“You would?”

His eyes fix on hers.

“Don’t give me that look,” Esme scolds. “Don’t use those eyes against me. You know they’re my weakness.”

“I thought your weakness was my back and shoulders.”

“The eyes are what get me the most. And the easiest. How do you think you managed to seduce me as easily as you did?”

He gives a sly grin. “I thought it had something to do with the hand I had around your throat.”

“You’re dirty.”

“You like it.”

She just grins.

“You don’t have to admit it. You’ve made it pretty obvious. I mean, we don’t have five kids for nothing.”

“We could have made them all through boring old vanilla sex,” she points.

“Only we know we didn’t, so…” her rolls onto his stomach once more, attempting to relieve some of the discomfort in his joints. And he drapes an arm over her thighs, side of his head once again resting on a forearm.

And he closes his eyes; the calmest he’s been all day with the sun beating down on his tired and aching body, relaxed by the sound of the ocean and the feel of her skin against his.

***

“Are we going to talk about it?” Esme inquires.

“About what?” Tyler mumbles sleepily.

“About what happened today. On the way to your dad’s.”

“It was a panic attack,” he states matter-of-factly.

“I know that.”

“I’ve had them before. You’ve been with me for most of them.”

“And I know that too.”

“I thought we got past it. It was only a few minutes and…”

“Forty five.”

His eyes flicker open. “What?”

“It was forty five minutes.”

Tyler frowns. Had it really been that long? Time hadn’t seemed to drag that slow. He would have swore it was ten minutes, tops. Not closer to sixty.  “Are you sure?”

“I timed it. From the time you got out of the truck and when you got back in. It was forty five minutes.”

“That has to be some kind of record,” he dryly remarks.

“This isn’t a joke, Tyler. They’re getting worse. They’re getting more intense and they’re lasting longer and…”

“I’m taking the meds if that’s what you’re going to ask next. I haven’t skipped any days.”

“Maybe you need to be on different meds,” Esme suggests, as she peeks under the edge of the receiving blanket that protects Addie from the sun. She’s fallen asleep mid feed and her mother runs a finger tip along the bottom of both feet to tickle her awake. And the baby gives a small start and then returns to eating. “Stronger meds.”

“I don’t want to be on any meds.”

“Well that’s not an option, is it. What is going on with you, Tyler? Ever since this whole Ovi thing. You’ve just been...I don’t know...off.”

“Do we have to talk about this now? Here? Can’t we wait until we get home?”

“There’s people at our house.”

“There’s people here too,” he points out.

“Strangers. Who aren’t even listening.”

“I already told you. The shit with Ovi’s brought a lot up to the surface. Things I haven’t thought about since we left Colorado. About the job.”

“And the fact you miss it.”

“Are we going to fight? If we’re going to fight, let’s just stop now, yeah? Because I do not want to fight with you. Especially about this.”

“I don’t want to fight with you either. But that hurt. Hearing that. Hearing you say you miss it and you’d rather be out there than home with your family.”

“First of all…” he pushes himself up onto his elbows. “...that is not what I said. I did not say I’d rather be doing the job than be with you and the kids. I’d never fucking say that. I said I miss it sometimes. Not that I want to go back to it. That’s the last fucking thing I want.”

“How can you miss it and not want to go back? That makes no sense.”

“It’s not the actual job I miss. It’s the pace of things. Constantly moving from one thing to the next. No time to think too much and dwell on shit. Now I have too much time to think and it’s doing my fucking head in and I feel like I’m going insane. I went from that to this…” he nods in Addie’s direction. “...and it’s two entirely different things and I’m having a harder time dealing with it than I thought I would.”

“Do you regret it? Going from that to this?”

“Of course I don’t. All that matters to me is you and the kids. You know that. But sometimes I miss the way things were. Not the beating the shit out of people, not the blood, not the killing, not the crazy shit. Just the pace. That’s it.”

“The escape of it.”

“Yeah. I don’t know. I guess. I can’t explain it. I just know how it feels. Do I want to go back to it? Fuck no. I have way too much to lose.”

“Would you go back if there was no me?”

“Esme, I never would have stopped doing it. And if there was no you, I’d be dead. So that question doesn’t even make sense. If there was no you, I would have died in Dhaka. That’s not a maybe. That’s a sure thing.”

“And if I was to say that I’d be okay with it if…”

“But you wouldn’t be,” Tyler doesn’t give her the chance to finish. “So why even ask that?”

“Because if it’s the only thing that’s going to keep you happy and sane…”

“You’re not listening to a word I’m saying. I am happy. With you and the kids. I’m happy with my life. I’m just having a hard time letting go of who I was before.  Just because I miss it sometimes doesn’t mean I want to go back. The job was an escape, like you said. From my shitty fucking life. If I hadn’t had the job, I would have killed myself a long time ago. But now I have you and I have my kids and that’s all I want. I just need time; to let this go. And I need you to stop taking it personally. This isn’t about you and I, this isn’t about the kids. It’s all about me.”

She nods slowly, considering his words. And neither speak for several minutes; her eyes fixated on Millie and her new friends as they laugh and splash in the water, his eyes intently watching her.  Chewing nervously on her bottom lip and fidgeting with a loose thread on the edge of the receiving blanket; eyes hidden behind the sunglasses she’d stolen off him earlier.

“If going back is what you need to do, then…” she shrugs. “...you need to do it, I guess.”

“I already said I’m not going back. I don’t want to go back. Why…?”

“If the job is what’s going to keep you sane, you need to do it. Because I don’t want you staying home and then finding out six months later or a year later or two years later than you were unhappy the entire time. Because that will turn into a lot of regret and a lot of animosity and I don’t want that. Because that will destroy us. A lot quicker than the job will.”

“Fuck me…” he groans, and rakes a hand through his hair. “Are you even listening to me? I don’t want to go back. You’re assuming I do because I said I missed it. I gave it up. To be with you. To be with my kids. I walked away. For you. For us. And now you’re telling me it's okay I go back and abandon my family like all the times I did before. That makes no fucking sense.”

“I just want you to be happy,” she explains. “And if that’s what makes you happy.”

“For fuck sakes,” Tyler snarls. “That’s not what makes me happy. You make me happy. Our kids make me happy. Not the job. Fuck the job. All I said was that sometimes I miss it. The pace. The not having time to sit and overthink shit and dwell on everything. That’s all I said.”

“I don’t know what more to do,” she confesses, sounding dangerously close to tears. “I don’t know how else to help you. And it just seems easier if I just give up and you back. Because I’d rather you do that and things go back to somewhat normal than see you going through what you’re going through now. Mauve that was our ‘normal’.  The job. You being gone so much and me just dealing with it.”

“None of that is normal,” Tyler argues. “That’s a fucked up version of normal.”

“But it worked.”

“Until it didn’t. Until things really started to go to shit in New Zealand. Or are we just going to pretend that never happened?”

She sighs heavily.

“It was my decision to leave. I gave it up. Willingly. Because I couldn’t do it anymore. Because I was sick all the bullshit that came with it. I was tired of leaving you and the kids and constantly worrying about whether I was going to make it home or not. And I know you don’t want to think about that every time I walk out the door; whether or not I’m coming back.”

“That’s the last thing I want. But…”

“How can there be a ‘but’? How is this making any sense to you? The job would only make things worse.”

“I could learn to deal with,” Esme insists. “And I did deal with it.”

“Until you couldn’t anymore and you kicked my ass out. Or did you forget about that? Six months, remember? We were apart six months and I was a fucking mess. All I did was work and drink and fuck things up with you and my kids. I’m not going through that again. And you shouldn’t want to either.”

“It wouldn’t get that bad this time. We wouldn’t let it. There were other things going on then, too. Not just the job. You went back to drinking and the meds, and it all mixed together and it was a complete and utter shit show. But this time…”

“It’s a stupid fucking idea and you know it and I can’t believe you’d even bring it up. Like what the fuck, Esme?”

“So what do we do? Because I am all out of ideas, Tyler. I don’t know what more I can do to help you deal with whatever you’re dealing with. I get you miss it. I do. And I knew it would be hard for you  to walk away; it was a huge change in your life. But there’s many things going on and you’re keeping them inside and I don’t know how to get through to you.”

“So you just want to give up? Just say ‘fuck it, go back to the job and get yourself killed’? Because that’s what it sounds like. That you’re giving up. On me. On us.”

“I am not giving up,” she argues. “If the job is the one thing that can actually keep everything together…”

“Esme…” he sighs heavily, then closes his eyes briefly, hand splayed across his forehead; thumb rubbing at one temple, fingers working at the other. “...it’s what nearly destroyed us before. What makes you think this time would be any different?”

“Because this time I’m telling you I’m okay with it. If you feel it’s what you need to do, I’m fine with it. I’m giving you my permission. It’s not like you’re just going ahead and making the decision on your own like last time.”

“No. You’re making the decision for me. You’re deciding it’s the only way to fix things and I’m telling you it’s not the answer.”

“So what is?”

“I don’t fucking know,” he snaps, voice louder and much harsher than he’d intended it to be. And he sits up turning his body to face the water, their shoulders pressed together. “The job is not the answer,” he insists. “I don’t know what is, but it’s not that. I won’t survive if I go back. I already know that. Not with everything else that’s going on.”

An eyebrow lifts. “Everything else? What…?”

“There’s something I need to tell you. And I should have told you soon as it started. But we just had Addie and you were going through your own shit and I didn’t want to add to it and make things worse for you.”

“Oh God,” she grumbles. “How bad is it?”

“It’s pretty bad.”

“Are you having an affair?”

“What?” He gives an incredulous laugh. “No. Fuck no. That is the last thing I’d ever do. I’m not a cheater. You know that.”

“So it’s worse than that?”

“Yeah...I guess...in its own way.”

“Tyler, what have you done?”

“It’s pretty fucked up and you’re going to be pissed or disgusted or both. I don’t know.”

“Tyler…”

“I started about a week ago. When Ovi brought all this job shit up. I didn’t think much of it at first. Because I’ve had weak moments before. You know that. That there’s times I’ve felt like I was slipping.”

“With alcohol.”

He nods. “That day we went out for lunch. That place he picked was a sports bar.”

“Please tell me you didn’t…”

“Drink? No. I didn’t. But I could smell it. I could even taste it. So I just got away from it the best I could and I never thought about it again the entire time I was there.”

“Okay, so you had a weak moment. That’s not unusual. Even the doctor said…”

“I thought that’s all it was. I’ve had them before. Where I thought I wanted to drink; something to just take the edge off. But then it started getting worse and worse and started thinking about it all the time. Especially when the nightmares started. And suddenly I couldn’t control it. The need for it. Especially after last night.”

“Tyler…” she inhales deeply and exhales slowly, attempting to keep her composure.  “...what did you do?”

“Nothing. I wanted to, but I didn’t. But I was so close, Esme. I was so fucking close. To actually leaving the house and finding a way to get it. And not just the booze. The meds too. The Oxy. I was so fucking close,” his voice falters; a mixture of shame and defeat. It’s the first time he’s actually let the addiction beat him. For months he’s been battling it. Confidently. And although there’d been times he felt as if he were slipping, he’d always been able to shake it. Now he feels as if he’s drowning; addiction pulling him down and refusing to let him go unless he surrenders.  

And that’s the last thing he wants.

“Even the Oxy?”

He can hear it in her voice; the emotion that weighs down every word. And he closes his eyes in a vain attempt to hold back the flood of tears that threaten to escape. “Yeah…” he admits. “...even those.”

“Why? Why all of a sudden? Why…?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never thought of them before. It’s always been just the booze. And then nightmares about Austin and Millie started and then last night about my mum and my dad when I was just a kid and the pain…” he shakes his head. “...I’m in so much fucking pain. All the time. And I don’t know if it’s physical or mental or what the fuck it is. I just know I need something...anything...to just take it away.”

She places Addie in the middle of the blanket and moves closer to him; on her knees as she wraps an arm around his shoulders and then places her free hand on the side of his head, drawing it down towards her.

“Don’t..” he objects. “...people are fucking staring.”

“So? Fucking let them. Who cares?” Her fingers are in his hair; tips massaging his scalp. And he circles her waist with both arms and rests his forehead against her shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to. I just couldn’t. Not when you’ve already got so much else going on. Not when you’ve got your own issues and your own shit to deal with. I didn’t want to make things worse.”

“It would have made it worse...so much worse...had you gone ahead and started back up again. That would have been the worst possible thing that could have happened. You should have told me.”

“I thought I could just deal with it on my own. I’ve done it before.”

“But you shouldn’t have to deal with it alone. And you don’t have to. Jesus Christ, Tyler. You have to stop doing this.  Keeping everything inside of you. This doesn’t just affect you. You’re an addict. You’ll always be an addict. You’re always going to have to fight. You can’t just go back on that shit and then come off it and over and over again.  It doesn’t work like that.”

“I know. I know it doesn’t.”

“You need to tell someone. The therapist. The doctor. Someone.”

“I’m telling you.”

“Someone can actually help you. I can only do so much. I can help you and talk you down and get you away from it, but eventually that’s not going to work anymore. You need help. Professional help.”  

“So they can send me back to rehab? Weeks away from my family?”

“You haven’t actually relapsed. They wouldn’t send you there unless you did. But they can stop you from needing to go back. That’s what you want, right? You don’t actually want to be that way again, do you?”

“Of course I don’t. But that’s all I know. That’s how I coped. The meds and the booze. I don’t know anything else.”

“And that’s what they’ll help you with. Finding ways to cope. You’re not the first person that’s come to them with this, trust me.”

“I feel like a huge fucking failure. Like I’m just one big fuck up after another.”

“First of all, you’re not a failure. People relapse. It happens. You’re not the first and you won’t be the last. And second, you’re not a fuck up. You’re strong and you’re brave and…”

“Stop...just stop...stop saying that shit…”

You’re strong and you’re brave,” she adamantly continues. “And you’ve been through so much in the past seven years alone. Things that would have easily killed a weaker person. You’ve been through hell and back and you still don’t give up. So you stop. You stop shit talking yourself all the time. You are not a failure and you’re not weak and you’re definitely not a quitter.”

“I swear to God if you tell me not to let anyone dull my sparkle…”

She laughs at that. “Well, your beard does still have glitter in it.  I meant to tell you earlier and I never got around to it and you’ve been walking around looking a little sparkly today.”

“What the fuck…” he pulls away, running a palm over his beard and then frowning at the glitter that sparkles against his skin. “...are you fucking kidding me?”

“I told you that shit gets everywhere. And it takes forever to get it out. I mean, it’s not a bad color on you at least.”

“I’m going to have to shave the whole thing off.”

“Like hell you are. It will come out. Eventually.”

He frowns. “How long is eventually?”

“Two or three…”

“Days?”

“Weeks? Months? I don’t know.”

“Jesus Christ..”

“It’s not that bad,” Esme assures him. “Honest. It’s only a little bit here and there. And someone will only notice it if they get really close to your face. Or when the sun hits it just right.”

“It’s coming off,” he decides. “As soon as we get home.”

“Does it help if I tell you it looks cute?”

“That makes it fucking worse!”

“Don’t shave your beard off. Not all the way. Trim it if you have to. But don’t get rid of it entirely. I’ll cry. Ugly cry. And you don’t when I ugly cry, so…”

“I hate when you ugly cry.”

“Exactly. And I’ll ugly cry times ten if you shave your beard right off. And I’ll ever have sex with you again. Ever. You’ll have tons of calluses on your palms in one month alone.”

“I already have calluses,” he reminds her.

“You’ll have more. A lot more. Tons. Because I will cut you off and I will not give in and I know you won’t go and get it somewhere else so...yeah...callouses.”

“First you were upset about the hair. Now it’s the beard.”

“I caved in with the hair. And I still miss that hair. But I’m not giving in when it comes to this. I don’t care if you trim it. Just don’t get rid of it. It’s how I know you. How I’ve always known you. It’s like a security blanket for me. So don’t…” she pecks his lips. “...please?”

“You are so fucking lucky I love you.”

“I am,” she agrees. “And we’re going to get through this. Everything that you’re going through. We’ve gotten through a lot worse. IF we can survive that first year after Dhaka, I’m pretty sure we get through anything.”

“I still have to do this shit for Ovi. And if he fucks up…”

“Anything,” she insists, and kisses him again. Longer this time; holding his face in her hands. “You’re not in this alone, Thyler. You need to remember that.”

“I know.”

“And Millie’s on her way over here…”  she removes the sunglasses from her face and slips them over his eyes, preventing their daughter from seeing him close to tears.

She knows daddy cries; that a lot of daddies cry. And that it doesn’t make them weak or ‘girly’. But she’s fiercely protective of him and when he shows emotion, she can’t hold back her own water works.

“You are soaked, little miss.” Esme frowns. “I hope daddy remembered to pack that change of clothes I asked him to put in the car before we left.”

“I’ve got my shit together,” Tyler confirms. “Do you have to…” he begins, then groans when Millie not only tackles him onto his back, but plops down heavily on his lower stomach. “...jump on me.”

“Now daddy’s all wet,” Esme sighs. “And I know he doesn’t have a change of clothes.”

“It’s not that,” he speaks through gritted teeth. “Do you know where she just landed? And how hard she landed on it?”

“I think your voice just went up five  octaves,” his wife teases. “Are you okay?”

“No. No I’m not. Remember that frozen bag of peas?  I think I’m going to need another one when we get home.”

“Listen buddy, I’ve pushed five kids out my you know where, I don’t want to hear it.”

“I’m suddenly feeling really bad about kicking Saju in the nuts in Dhaka. Millie, you know how you said you didn’t want another brother?”

“Yep,” she responds.

“I’m pretty certain you just made sure that’s not even remotely possible anymore.”

“Mommy will have to kiss it better later,” Esme says, tousling his hair and then tending to buckling Addie into her carrier.

“You’re damn right you will. It’s your daughter that did this.”

“Oh so now she’s just my daughter. That’s not how it works. We went fifty-fifty on her. You put in ten minutes of work, I put in nine months.”

“Ten minutes my ass. It’s never been only ten minutes. Especially during those five days.”

“Are you going to be okay? Do I need to call an ambulance?”

Tyler flips her the middle finger. “You should give it mouth to mouth.”

“You’re a pig.”

“You’re the one who offered to kiss it better. Millie…” he grabs her by the hips and moves her off of him. “...you used to be my favorite. Why you do me like this?”

“Ice cream would make you feel better,” she concludes.

“What am I going to do? Put it down my pants?”

“Stop it,” Esme scolds. “Little ears! And you, Amelia, are right. Ice cream would make daddy feel better. And so would buying ice cream. For us.”

“Millie’s walking home, just so you know,” Tyler grumbles, as he struggles to his feet; hobbled more by the pain in his knee than the damage his daughter had inflicted.

“No I’m not!” she argues, and then shrieks when he grabs her by the hips and holds her over his head, settling her on his shoulder. “I’m not walking.”

“You can jog beside the truck. I’ll drive slow.”

“I don’t think so daddy,” she wraps her legs around his neck and rests her chin on top of his head. “Mommy would never let you make me jog.”

“Mommy can jog with you.”

“Like hell she can,” Esme scoffs. “Only time I’m running or jogging is if zombies are chasing me.”

“Zombies aren’t real,” Millie informs her.

“I don’t know,” Tyler says. “Have you ever seen your mother at five thirty in the morning? Ow! Shit!” He grimaces when his wife grabs a hold of the top of his left hip and pinches as hard as she can. “That actually hurt.”

“I could take you,” she informs him.

“Yeah? Let’s go right now. Me and you. One on one,” he playfully challenges, and grabbing a hold of her ponytail, gives it a firm tug.

“You shit!” she retorts, and retaliates by kicking him in the ass.

“You’re so lucky you didn’t go for the front like the savage I know you are,” Tyler grins, then snags her by the wrist and pulls her tight into his side. Hand settling on her hip, lips finding her temple. And her own hand briefly rests on the small of his back, then slips its way into the pocket of his jeans.

For that moment, everything seems right in the world. And he feels optimistic. About fighting his demons.

About the future.

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 23

WARNINGS: SMUT. NSFW.

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​

“So how mad are you?” Tyler asks, as he stands in the doorway of the main floor laundry room, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest.  

The situation is touch and go. She hadn’t set foot upstairs while he’d carried out Millie’s bedtime routine or when Kyle had wandered in with a sleeping five year-year old under each time; dumping each of them fully clothed into their beds before taking off again.

“Why would I be mad at you?” she counters, as she gathers a bundle of laundry from inside the dryer and drops them on top of it. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Well, besides getting  glitter all over the goddamn place.”

“You can blame your daughter for that. She's a little obsessed with sparkly shit.”

“Just a little,” Esme agrees with a grin.

He takes it as a sign that all is well between them and finally approaches, standing behind her and pushing a hand through her hair, tangling his fingers in the soft, fine tresses and lightly tugs; drawing her head back and kissing her. Teeth lightly capturing her bottom lip as he pulls away, and she gives a grin and reaches back to grab a hold of his ass, lightly squeezing before he steps beside her.

They work in companionable silence; each tending to handfuls of clean clothes that they drop into a wicker basket that sits on the floor between them. And he glances over at her every few seconds; eyes wandering her entire form; clad in nothing more than one of his old t-shirts, tattered and filled with holes and paint stainss.  Taking in the way her hair falls to just below her shoulders and brushes against the sides of her face; the natural red high lights sparkling under the artificial light.

She catches him watching her and a grin tugs at the corner of her mouth, a slight blush creeping into her cheeks and the tips of her ears. Almost seven years later and she’s still self-conscious about how she looks to him. Always fretting about the shape of her ass or the size of her thighs and how wide her hips have gotten. He sees none of that; he doesn’t notice the extra ten pounds she complains about or the stretch marks she tries desperately to hide. All he sees is the woman that he’d fallen in love. And keeps falling in love with each passing day.  

“Tyler...” she says.

“Esme...”

“Why are you staring at me?”

“I’m not staring. I’m admiring. I’m not allowed to admire my wife?”

“Admiring or critiquing?”

He frowns. “What the hell is there to critique?”

“I’ve had five kids. Things don’t look like they used to,” she laments. “I’m definitely not the same person I was when we met.”

“Neither am I.”

“But you’re only getting better with age. Me? I just get worse.”

“Baby, have you looked in the mirror lately? Because you look fucking amazing. And I know you’re just going to say I’m just being biased or that I’m just trying to boost your ego. But it’s true. Every word. You’re beautiful and you’re sexy and you always will be in my eyes.”

He hates not only what her own battle with depression and the monsters from her past has done to her, but also her disastrous first marriage; Mark’s abusive behavior –physical, emotional, sexual- leaving so much damage in its wake. And it’s been a full-time job in itself getting her to see herself the way he does. It’s his main bone of contention in their marriage: having to listen to her degrade herself and drag herself down when he just wants to worship the ground she walks on.

“Even after five kids?” she challenges.

“Especially after five kids. I don’t know what more I can say. How to get you to see yourself like I see you. I just wish you would.”

“Maybe you need glasses.”

“Maybe you need to stop. I love you. And I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world. I have since that day you walked into my place. I don’t see what you do.  I don’t see the extra weight you bitch about or the marks on your skin or the how your clothes don’t fit like they used to. All I see is you.”

“You really are determined to make me cry by the end of the night,” she teases, and playfully slaps him in the face with one of Addie’s sleepers.  

She watches the way his hands move as they fold that simple piece of clothing. His hand –from the base of his palm to the tip of his middle digit- longer than the actual sleeper itself; those fingers with their various scars and their swollen and misshapen knuckles never fumbling as they tend to impossibly tiny buttons.  She knows what those hands are capable of; the things that they’d done. The blood he has on them; hundreds of men in Dhaka alone were dead because of those hands. Large and powerful. Frightening, even.  

But she also knows how those hands feel; the callouses on the palm and the even more prominent one on the right index digit; his ‘trigger finger’. She knows they’re capable of inflicting so much more than brutality and death. They can be soothing and gentle; rocking babies to sleep, caring for the kids’ injuries and clearing away their tears, massing her aching back when in the agonizing final stages of childbirth. And she knows how they feel during intimate times; how they can alternate between gentle and rough depending on his mode and what how she wants and needs his touch to be. She’s experienced those delirious heights of pleasure that they’re more than capable of bringing her to.  

She looks away; the mere thought bringing a flush to her cheeks and a familiar warmth that builds between her thighs and in the pit of her stomach.  

“I was always looking at you because I was trying to figure out if you’re wearing underwear or not,” Tyler admits.

“This is not a safe house to walk around in wearing JUST a t-shirt.  Not only do we have all kinds of little people that can show up out of nowhere, but now we have Kyle wandering in and out.”

“How long’s he staying for anyway?”  

“He SAID his vacation was for two weeks.”

“But? There’s a ‘but’ coming. I can feel it.”

“He did say if he liked it here that much, he might not go back.”

Tyler sighs.

“I thought you liked my brother.”

“I do. I just don’t like the baggage he brings with him.”

She smirks. “Nik?”

“We just got rid of her. He sticks around, that means she’s going to come back. And I don’t know about you, but the less of her the better.”

“She does tend to bring the drama with her.”

“Drama, home wrecking, whatever you want to call it.”

“But if we could get him away from her...”

“We are NOT getting involved. We just talked about this. We agreed to stay out of it.”

“No, you agreed to stay out of it,” Esme corrects.  

“And I told you to stay out of it.”

“When do I ever listen to anything you say?”

He smirks.

“We could always kick Chloe out and have Kyle take her place.”

“You mean Ovi could kick Chloe out. Because we’re not doing shit. We are staying out of people's personal crap. Didn’t you hate when people were always in our shit back in Colorado? Your mom, your other brothers...”

“But they’re evil and were always trying to cause problems. We’re trying to avoid a huge problem. If we get Kyle away from Nik, then there’s no more Nik. That way if he stays here, we won’t have to worry about her coming around and sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong. Neither wants you to stick in her...”

“Let’s not start that conversation again.”

“I’m just trying to think of what’s best for my brother. And I know she’s not it.”

“Then you never should have set him up with her in the first place. This is kind of all your fault.”

Frowning, she rolls up the beach towel in her hand and smacks him hard across the ass with it.  

“I’m just saying that we need to stay out of. Let Kyle do what he wants and whatever happens, happens. I just don’t want him living here. We have enough people living under this roof. We don’t need another one.”

“And yet you want another kid,” she scoffs.

“That’s totally different and you know it. That’s a kid. That we’d make together. Kyle’s a grown ass man. Let him be one. Stay out of it. If he wants to marry Nik, let him marry Nik. If he wants to dick down the neighbor, let him dick down the neighbor. Who gives a shit?”

“And if he’s dicking down both?”

“Then good for him. He’s lucky.”

She rolls her eyes.

“He manages to juggle both of them, he’s a fucking legend.”

“You’re going to be juggling both your balls in a second. Is this your sly of way of telling me you want to be dicking down the neighbor?”

“Are you fucking insane? No way in hell.”

“You have to admit, she’s cute.”

“She’s not you. I don’t want to be dicking down anyone else, okay?”

“You know,” she grins. “Sometimes you can really redeem yourself.”

“And even if I did want to, I wouldn’t have the energy to dick anyone else down anyway.”

“I’m not sure if that’s reassuring or...”

“Just you, baby. I only want you.”

She smiles, then lightly bumps his hip with her own.  

“So I never did get a yes or a no.  About the underwear.”

She gives a dramatic sigh and then lifts the bottom of the t-shirt to her waist; giving a slight peek of the elaborate and colorful tattoo that graces her entire left rib cage, and a look at the lacy black garment that sits low on her hips but is cut high on her ass. “Good?”

“Very good. Very, very, very good.”

“You’re getting easy to please in your old age. Pretty soon all it’s going to take is some side boob to get you in the mood.”

He grins. “Who says it doesn’t already?”

“You have been very...what’s the word...amorous...lately.”

“Lately?”

“I mean, you always are. You always HAVE been. Our track record was amazing sex over the past almost seven years is remarkable. But since the doctor gave that green light, you’ve been extra...I don’t know...extra.”

“Do you blame me? I just went four months having to flog the bishop two to three times a day.”

“Flog the bishop,” she can’ t help but laugh. “Baby, you’re so cute.”

“What I am is horny.”

“Yeah,” a grin tugs at her lips.  “I’ve noticed that the last couple of days.”

“No. I mean like right now. This very second.”

“I’m busy.”

“Get unbusy,” he says, and yanks the piece of clothing she’s folding out of her hand and tosses it aside.

“You need to chill,” Esme suggests, and then has the nerve to bent over in front of him as she fetches a wayward sock off the floor; the shirt slipping up to the small of her back.

Just the mere sight of her ass –that smooth, pale skin- causes his cock to stir; the pressure beginning to build in the pit of his stomach.  And he reaches out, running a fingertip along the edge of the lace, feeling the goosebumps that prick her flesh.  Finger slowly travelling over her skin until he reaches her hip; then pressing his palm against it and squeezing tightly.  

“That hurt!” she scolds and reaches around to rub at the tender spot. “What’s gotten into you?”

“It’s what I want to get into you.”

“Okay, well can give you five minutes to get shit done? Patience is a virtue, after all.”

“Screw patience,” he growls, the slams the dryer door closed and places on hand her stomach and the other at the base of her throat, fingers applying slight, yet firm pressure as he presses his erection against her.  His hand slips down the front of her panties; fingertip dragging along the top of her pubic bone, his breath warm and moist as his mouth hovers by next to her ear. “Let’s fuck.”

She opens her mouth to respond, but all words escape her when she feels the tip of his nose and the scratch of his beard against the side of her throat, followed by the sensation of his hot, wet mouth. Lips aggressive and demanding against the skin; teeth lightly grazing along the flesh, fingers pressing harder and deeper into her neck.  His aggression has always been a turn on; starting with that moment he’d pinned her against the wall in the hotel room in Dhaka in a fit of a rage. She’d quickly discovered it was what she liked. What she craved. And she’d initially been ashamed because of it; Mark had caused a tremendous amount of pain and torment during their shit show of a marriage, so she’d felt disappointed and disgusted in herself for wanting sex to be that way with another man. But she’d learned that the two situations were vastly different; one was abuse, the other someone she trusts with her life. Who’d never intentionally do anything to hurt her.

She presses her ass against him; loving the way he groans in her ear. It’s empowering. Knowing you have that kind of effect of someone. When you know all the little things that drives them crazy; those magic spots that can nearly bring them to their knees. And she reaches up to grab a hold of his hair as he kisses her. His tongue aggressively pushing its way into her mouth just as his hand slides lower into her panties, palm cupping her mound; hot and wet against his skin. Giving a low moan of approval at the sensation before his mouth finds the side of her throat once again. Her eyes closing and the grip on his hair tightening as two of his fingers push past the swollen lips, the ends coming in contact with her clit; causing her body to shudder against and her hips to jolt backwards, bringing her ass in contact with his cock yet again.

“Fuck...” he growls. The simple contact even through the fabric of his sweats causing the pressure to build; erection painfully straining against the confines around him. And she cries out when his teeth clamp down on the juncture between neck and shoulders and he slips two fingers inside of her.   “So good...” he breathes, mouth against her neck. “...you feel so good...and you’re so fucking wet.”

“For you,” she says. “Only for you.”

A low and almost feral moan resonates from deep within his chest and removes his hand from inside of her panties. His gaze never wavering from hers as he licks and sucks her fluid from his fingers, the taste sweet and delicious on his lips and his tongue.  

“Tastes so good,” his voice is low. “So fucking good.”

There’s a primal, animalistic look in his eyes; a hunter stalking its prey.   And it makes that aching and longing between her legs almost overwhelming; almost too powerful to bear.  She grinds her ass against him once more; feeling how hard he is through the fabric of his sweats. His breathing quickening and become more ragged as she continues to rub against him, feeling the way his fingers bite into her hips. And she attempts to slip her own hand between her legs to chase some relief, but he roughly grabs her by the wrist, then brings her arm behind her back.

“I don’t fucking think so,” Tyler snarls, and uses the force of his grip and the weight of his body to propel her towards the countertop across the room. A knee pushes her legs apart as he keeps her arm secure behind her back; his other hand roughly yanking her panties off her hips and over her ass, letting them to pool at her ankles. “Take them off,” he orders, and she hurriedly obliges.  

Anyone else in this situation and it would scare her, the intensity in his eyes, the aggression in both his voice and his movements. But the trust is there. It always has been. The confidence that he’d never hurt her; that he’d stop the very second she showed any signs of pain or discomfort.

Tyler tightens his hold on the wrist that’s pinned behind her back and pushes her further into the countertop. His free hand on her shoulder; pushing her upper bod down before hastily shoving down his sweatpants. “Open,” he demands, using a thigh to push apart her legs. And still holding her arm firmly behind her back, the other hand settles on her shoulder as he pushes into her with one smooth, solid thrust that has her crying out, cheek pressed against the cold ceramic beneath her.  

He hesitates; leaning over to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “You okay, baby?”

“Mm...hmm...” she responds, and pushes her ass back, encouraging him to continue.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Just fuck me,” she orders. “Now.”

He grins. “You’re demanding.”

“Now!” she forcefully repeats and reaches back to dig her nails into his thigh, hard enough to break the skin.  

He pulls out completely, smirking at the disappointed, pissed off look that crosses her face before slamming back inside of her with brutal force.  It always surprises him; how someone that small and seemingly fragile can take as much as she can. How she’s always so eager and willing to this side of him to come out; aggressive, mean, controlling. Sometimes it even scares him; how quickly he can lose control of both the situation. Afraid that he’ll hurt her and then spent a week hating himself for it.  

But he gives her what she wants. Repeatedly driving into her; that arm still pinned behind her back, the other hand now on the back of her head; spurred on by her pleas for ‘harder’ and ‘faster’. Sweat beading across his forehead and gathering at the nape his neck and the small of his back. Fucking her until she loses the ability to form coherent words and is gasping and sobbing; tears streaming down her face. Hips jerking back towards him, matching every movement.   And he drops the hand from the back of her head and reaches between her legs, fingers easily finding her clit; vigorously and relentlessly rubbing at it until her orgasm hits her. The scream muffled against the countertop and those internal muscles contracting almost painfully around his cock. It quickly brings on his own release; a few deep, controlled thrusts until a deep, low growl rumbles in chest and he empties himself inside of her.

He finally releases the hold on the arm behind her back; both hands now resting on her hips as he closes his eyes and drops his forehead onto her shoulder. Chest heaving and legs sharking as he attempts to regain his composure.

“Tyler...” she reaches around and lays a hand on his thigh, trying to push him back. “...I love you, but you’re really fucking heavy.”

He didn’t realize his entire weight had collapsed against her, and he places a kiss on her cheek and gives an apologetic smile before backing away, withdrawing completely.  Snagging a towel from the laundry basket, he uses it to clean himself up, then gently presses it between her legs. “You alright?”

Esme nods.

“Was I too rough?”

She shakes her head. “You were perfect. But I swear to God if you got that towel out of the clean basket...”

“Sorry,” he gives a sheepish grin, then kisses her softly before tossing the item in question into the nearby sink before pulling his sweatpants back up. “Here,” he locates a pair of pajama pants in the dryer and hands them to her. “I don’t think you’ll want to put that underwear back on. They’re a little...wet.”

“Well if you didn’t have that effect on me, they’d be perfectly fine,” she retorts, and then turns to face him; hands on his chest for balance as he helps her slip into the pants.  “I never thought you’d be the type of guy who’d be into aftercare,” she teases.

“I never was. Until I met you.”

“Look at me. Bringing out all the good sides of you.”

“All the best sides,” he declares, then lays a hand on the back of her head and kisses her. “You sure you’re okay? I think I was a little too into it.”

“I would have told you if you were. You were amazing. Trust me. And thank you,” she stands on her tiptoe to kiss him, her arms wrapping around his neck. “I love you,” she says, as she buries her face in his chest, fingernails lightly scraping against the bottom of his hairline. “So much.”

“I love you too, baby,” he brushes his lips against her temple. “Always.”

****

The second time lasts longer. Slow yet intense love making that follow two rounds of foreplay.  Now they lay in a mix of tangled sheets and sweaty limbs; on their sides with her back tucked into his front, one of his legs draped over hers and their tightly clasped hands pressed against her stomach.  Tyler’s eyes are closed, tip of his nose and his lips pressed against the nape of her neck; happy and sated. Not just from the sex, but from the intimacy afterwards; lying together and feeling the warmth that radiates from her body and the familiar smell that clings to her hair. And she gives a long, content sigh and turns her face to the side, smiling back at him.

“You asleep?” she asks.

“Nope. Just completely and utterly fucked out.”

She laughs at that, and he gives a chuckle of his own and raises his head long enough to kiss the corner of her mouth.

“I love you,” he says, and brushes his nose against her temple.

“I love you too,” she snuggles tighter into him and increases the grip on his hand. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing really. Just lying here. Thinking about how happy my dick is right now.”

She snorts.

“Which is very fucking happy, by the way.”

“If he wasn’t, I’d be very insulted.”

“What are you thinking about?” he inquires.

“You probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

He frowns. “As long as it’s not Dhaka. Because if you say Dhaka...”

“It isn’t Dhaka,” she assures him. “As amazing as those five days were...”

“Best five days of my life.”

“...I was NOT thinking about that place. I was thinking about that shack of yours. After Millie brought it up, I started thinking about wanting to go there and see it.”

“It doesn’t look the same anymore. Not after what he’s done do it.”

“You mean it actually has walls and an actual roof now?”

“Listen, smart ass...”

“I don’t care what it looks like. I just want to see it. It’s where everything started. It’s where WE started.”

“Technically WE didn’t start until Bangladesh.”

“But we met there. At the shack. It’s where I first saw you. It would be nice to go and see it. To see Koen again. And bathroom chicken.”

“I don’t think bathroom chicken is there anymore. I think he’s probably made dinner out of her by now.”

“That dick. That’s fucking savage.”

Tyler chuckles and presses his lips to the side of her head. “You eat chicken,” he reminds her.

“I wouldn’t have eaten HER. We could have kept her as a pet. Or considered her our first child.”

“I remember when we were in Dhaka and...”

“Hey!” she jabs him in the stomach with her elbow. “No saying the D word.”

“When we were THERE, I used to think about how we’d make things work. If they went okay between us and we didn’t kill one another while we were travelling. If you’d be happy staying there with me whenever you came to town.”

“Why wouldn’t I have been?”

“It wasn’t exactly five-star accommodations.”

“You were a bachelor. You didn’t care what your place looked like. You were on the job so much it was basically just a place to eat and sleep. And fuck some of your pieces of ass.”

“I never had any pieces of ass there. I didn’t want anyone close to home. In case they got attached and started showing up all the time.”

“What about Nik? I’m sure she visited you there.”

“We only ever fucked when I was on a job and she’d show up at the hotel. Never at my place. I didn’t want her there. I didn’t want ties to anyone, which meant keeping them away from my place.”

“You’re a very complex man, Tyler Rake,” she muses. “But you thought about having me there.”

“Because I wanted you there. I wanted you to be part of my life. If it was a dick and ditch, I would have told you right from day one. When we first fucked.”

“So you wanted to keep me around. Right from the start.”

“More like from the third day in. I was hopeful. That you’d want to stick around.”

“And here I was thinking it was me getting attached way too soon,” she teases, and he smiles against the back of her neck. “I was hopeful too. That there’d be more to it. That we’d travel like we planned and find out if we actually liked each other outside of sex. We never got that chance though.”

“No. We didn’t.”

“Do you regret that?” That it never went according to plan?”

“No.  It’s the butterfly effect, right? Change one thing, everything changes?”

She grins. “When did you become the deep thinker?”

“Not just a pretty face and big muscles, baby. If things had had went the way we planned, there’s a chance that the twins and Declan and Addie wouldn’t even be here. The only for sure one is Millie.  Because I wasted no time knocking you up with her.”

“Your swimmers were very determined,” she concludes. “I wonder what day of the five it happened on. I hope it wasn’t the first day.”

“Why’s that?”

“You want your daughter knowing she was conceived while you were choking me?”

“You want her to know how much you like it?” He counters.

“How about we agree to keep our mouths shut. Because those five days were extremely dirty and what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Deal?”

“Deal,” he agrees, and presses his lips to her shoulder; lingering on the lotus flower tattoo that graces her skin.

“I would have been happy there,” she says. “At the shack.”

“Yeah?”

She nods. “I think WE would have been happy.”

“Wouldn’t have been able to raise a family there. Maybe one kid. But not five.”

“We would have had to move once we found out about the twins. Or added onto the place.”

“The outback is not a place to bring up kids. Trust me.”

“I would have liked some time with you there. Even just a little while.”

“Honestly? I would have just liked to fuck you there. At least once.”

She looks over her shoulder at him, frowning.

“What? You have your thing, I have mine. Just ‘cause it sounds weird, doesn’t mean it is. And I’m not gonna lie, I would have done it that first day.”

“Seriously? What about Nik?”

“She could have watched.”

“I don’t fucking think so,” Esme scoffs. “Bad enough she’s seen you naked. I don’t want her seeing me naked. Seeing us...you know.”

He grins. “Fucking?”

“To be crude about it, yes.”

“She could have just waited outside then,” Tyler reasons.

“You wanted to seriously fuck me the first day we met?”

“First day? First ten minutes. Do you blame me? I’m a guy. And you walked in there looking so cute and...”

“Cute? You’re calling me cute?”

“What’s wrong with being called cute? I think you’re very cute.”

“I want to be beautiful and sexy and alluring and...”

“You’re those things too.  But sometimes you look cute. That’s not an insult. You’re tiny and cute and I want to pick you up and put you in my pocket. And you looked cute that day. You had on those little jean shorts and that yellow tank top that had one strap that kept falling down. Your hair was in a ponytail. And you smelled like coconut.”

She rolls over onto her side to face him. “You remember all that?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Like I said, you looked cute. And you walked in there like you owned the place. All fucking attitude. I liked what I saw. You were different. You didn't take shit and you let me know pretty early that you weren’t going to put up with any from me.”

“I knew it. You’re turned on by assertive women.”

“Well I was turned on by YOU. I don’t know about other assertive women. I so would have fucked you. Right there. Right then.”

“I don’t know whether to be flattered, or....”

“Flattered. Definitely flattered.”

“For the record, I would have let you.”

A broad grin covers his face. “Yeah? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey you, nice hair. Let’s fuck’?”

“That would have worked actually. I would have been like ‘let’s go’.”

“Why didn’t YOU say anything? Esme counters.

“I was trying to be a gentleman.”

“You plied me with alcohol.”

“I asked you if you wanted a drink and you said yes. I gave it to you. I didn’t ply you with it. There’s a difference.”

“Well even without the booze, I would have given in. Just so you know.”

“I used to have a thing about wanting to fuck you on the kitchen table,” Tyler admits. “Just bend you over it and just give it to you.”

“You’re dirty.”

“That’s tame compared to some of the things we’ve done. Most of them, actually.”

“You’re such a bad influence,” she declares, then places a hand on the back of his head and kisses him; mouths moving slowly against each other, naked limbs rubbing and brushing together.  And when he pulls away, he brushes the hair away from her face and presses his lips to her forehead, then the bridge of her nose.

“I’m hungry,” Tyler announces.

Eme sighs. “Me too. What are you going to make me?”

“What do you want?”

She shrugs. “Guess we’ll have to see when we get down there.”

“How come I have to be the one to make it?”

“Your daughter said that you were the good cook, so I’ve given it up and handed you the reins,” she chides. “You wanted to try your hand at the domestic life, well there you go.”

“By domestic life, I meant siting on my ass while you do everything.”

“You wish!” she scoffs, and he pecks his life being throwing back the covers and climbing out of bed. “Baby...” she muses, rolling over onto her stomach and propping herself up on her elbows. “You’re sexy. Can I feel your arms?”

“You can feel whatever you want, whenever you want, however much you want.”

“Wherever and whenever?” she enthuses. “That’s dangerous. What if I start feeling you up at the grocery store or when we pick the kids up at school? Make Millie’s teacher extra jealous.”

“Baby, if you want to fuck me in the parking lot at the grocery store, all you have to do is ask.”

‘Kinky,” she giggles, then frowns when he tosses on his t-shirts at her and lands on top of her head. “Are you really going to Port Douglas tomorrow?” she asks, as she sits up and shrugs into the shirt. “To see your dad?”

Tyler nods.

“And you’re taking Millie?”

“She wanted to see him. And asked if he could come to her birthday party. She even made him a special invitation to give him.”

“You think she’ll be okay? I mean, if he’s having an ‘off day’...”

“If he is, we leave. I wouldn’t take her anywhere I didn’t think she could handle. You know that.”

“And what about you?” She climbs out of bed and stands in front of him, hands on his chest. “Think you can handle it?”

“I did the first time,” he points out.

“Did you?” her fingertips trace the scar on the left side of his chest, where the sniper’s bullet had caught him on the Sultana Kamal Bridge.  

He hadn’t even known what hit him; the shot knocking him off his feet, an immediate burning sensation filling his entire chest and blood rising into his throat. He remembers thinking that he had to get up and get cover; that the sniper would be waiting to take the ‘kill shot’. But his legs wouldn’t work; he was nauseous and dizzy and in excruciating pain and all he could do was drag himself across the asphalt while coughing up blood.

“I think so,” he replies. “I didn’t come home and crack open a bottle and pop some Oxy, so I guess I did okay.”

“I know there’s a lot you’re holding back,” Esme says. “From your childhood. That you’re angry and you’re hurt and even though he’s sick, you want him to pay for what he’s done. And I get it, Tyler. You know I do. And you know I support you one hundred percent.”

“But...”

“I just don’t want Millie hearing all of that. If something happens and you snap on him, I don’t want her being there. Because she’s five and she’s a baby still and she doesn’t need to shoulder adult things. It’s bad enough she asked about the time you nearly died.”

“In all fairness, you brought that up the other night and she’s been holding onto it for days.”

“I know. And I feel like shit for doing it. Sometimes I forget she’s listening and that she’s as smart as she is. She’s insanely smart. It’s almost scary how smart she actually is. Which is why I don’t want her there if things go bad between you and your dad.”

“I promise you, if something goes wrong, we just leave. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. You know that.”

“I do know that,” Esme agrees. “But I also know what you get like when you go off, Tyler. When you can’t control what you say or what you do. And...”

He silences her with a kiss. “I would never...ever...put our daughter in that situation. You know I wouldn’t.”

She smiles, then stands on her tip toes and circles her arms around his neck. “You’re a good man, Tyler Rake. Whether you think so or not.”

“I think you overestimate me way too much.”

“I think you need to keep your mouth shut,” she counters, then squeals when he pinches her ass hard enough to leave a bruise. “I could take you; you know.”

He smirks. “I’d love to see you try.”

“It’s the little ones you have to watch out for.”

“What are going to do? Bite my ankles?”

“You’re such a dick sometimes, you know that?

“I do. But you love me.”

“Yeah....” she smiles, then tightens the hold around his neck. “...I do.”

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary -Chapter 22

Warnings: smut

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @valkyrie-of-the-light, @innerpaperexpertcloud

Her flight arrives at eleven thirty in the evening, Belfast time. Tyler waits at the edge of the tarmac as the jet coasts to a stop; baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, clad in a pair of jeans, combat boots, and a simple white t-shirt under the flack jacket. Leaning against the driver’s side door of a newly rented SUV, hands stuffed in his pockets, biding his time as the pilot begins the final steps before passengers can begin to deboard. A slight rain falls: the pavement slick beneath the soles of his boot as he makes his way towards the jet; the stairs finally being lowered and the door being tossed open by a steward.

He smiles when he sees her, giving a small wave in greeting as he approaches. There’s a lap top bag over her right shoulder, a large -and jammed packed- knapsack over the left, and she wears a simple pair of leggings, a beat-up pair of sneakers and one of his hoodies. The sweater impossibly big on her; falling well below the knees, sleeves rolled up several times. But it’s the hair that he notices. The unexpected change in colour. Gone is her normal chestnut tresses, replaced by a rich mahogany that shines purple under the lights that surrounded the tarmac and small hanger. In all the time that they’ve been together, her appearance has seldom changed; aside from weight put on during her pregnancies and the several inches chopped from her hair. And while stunned by her transformation; he finds he actually likes it.

It’s intriguing. Alluring. Sexy.

“Hey,” he greets from the bottom of the stairs, holding out his hand to assist her the rest of the way.

“Hey,” she cheerfully returns, her feet on the third step when she curls her arms around his neck; his own wrapping around her willowy body, effortlessly lifting her off her feet, chuckling when her legs encircle his waist.

He’s smiling when she pulls away just long enough to remove his ball cap, turning it backwards before placing it back onto his head.

“That’s better,” she declares, and kisses him. Long and slow. That sweet, welcoming kiss that comes with a reunion. It doesn’t matter how long they’ve been apart, days, weeks, months. That first kiss is always the best one.  

“I missed you.” Tyler says, as he presses his lips to her temple and tightens his hold on her. Eyes closing as he breathes in the familiar yet still intoxicating scent of her body spray.  All the tension, stress, and worry soothed by the warmth that radiates from her body. It’s only been two days, yet it’s felt like a lifetime.

She holds his face in her hands, kissing him once more. “I missed you too.”

His palms briefly glide over her ass as he places her on the ground, then turns his hat back around the proper way and accepts a second backpack from the steward.

“How was the flight?” he asks, as he unloads of the other two bags as well, slinging all three over his shoulders, then placing a protective arm around her as he escorts her to the waiting SUV.

Nik has gone to a lot of trouble. The first rental vehicles being exchanged for replacements under different names. A new hotel on the outskirts of the city. Even new SAT phones: fears that the others have been compromised and calls and texts being recorded or traced. All new numbers, their actual physical whereabouts being kept secret. Nik being the only one with knowledge of where they actually are.  

“Long,” she replies, her arm across his lower back, hand just inside the back pocket of his jeans.  “But travelling on a Gulf Stream made it so much easier to cope with. I love Yaz and he’s a great pilot, but he doesn’t have one of those,” she jerks a thumb over her shoulder towards the sleek, modern aircraft. “How does Nik know this guy?”

“She said she did some work for him. That he owes her. Maybe they’re actually hooking up. He gives her the jet in exchange for good p…”

Esme frowns. “Isn’t he an old man?”

“So? Maybe he’s a sugar daddy. You know, Nik. She doesn’t want to settle down. Or commit to anything. An arrangement like that would be perfect for her.  He lends her his toys; she gets to be his toy.”

She snorts.

“How were the kids when you left?”

“Fine. They dealt with a lot better than I thought they would. I think they like the idea that we’re together. Maybe they think that means I’ll keep you out of trouble. It makes it easier to have Ovi there with him. They adore him. And Chloe. Not to mention they are over the moon that grandma came to visit for a while.”

“I’m surprised. That she was even willing to do it.”

“Well, with Sarge out of the house, she’s lonely. Maybe she’s trying to turn over a new leaf. I notice she’s been better with you. Since you went over there to see her. Whatever you said must have struck a nerve.”

“We had a good talk. Cleared the air,” he loads her things into the backseat of the SUV, then pauses before he opens her door. Reaching out to run a hand over her hair, letting smooth, silky strands slip through his fingers.  “What’s up with this?”

“You hate it. Don’t you.  Nik wanted to just go with a wig, but you could tell it was fake. So I thought, why not? It’s only hair.”

“Actually, I like it. Never thought I’d see you as a redhead. It’s different. But sexy.”

“It just gets better…” she reaches into one of the pockets on the hoodie and pulls out a pair of dark framed eyeglasses; fake lenses, but real enough looking to pull off whatever ruse Nik has cooked up. “What do you think?” she slips them into her face. “Are they me?”

“You look like a sexy librarian.”

“You have a fetish with librarians? We’ve been married for five years and I’m just finding this out now? Was there a sexy librarian in your past you lusted over?”

“Math teacher, actually. We can pretend you’re a math teacher if you want.”

“Math doesn’t scream sexy to me. Neither does librarian. I was thinking more…I don’t know…” she lowers the glasses onto the bridge of her nose and peers at him over the top of the rims.  “…private tutor…”

“Yeah…” he grins, and lays his hands on her hips, using his weight to back her up against the car. “…I don’t think there’s anything you could teach me that I don’t already know. You can try if you want, though. I’ll take one for the team.”

“Such a hard life you have,” she dramatically sighs. “How do you ever cope with being so selfless? What a burden to have to carry. Maybe I can actually be a sexy therapist and you can lie down and confess all your troubles to me. I bet there’s ways I can make you feel better.”

He smirks. “I bet there are,” his hands slide over her hips and around to the small of her back, mouth covering hers in a deep passionate kiss just as his fingers press roughly into her ass and pull her tight against him.

A sensual, lustful moment, hidden from the outside world by the looming shadow cast by the aircraft hanger.  Her lips taste like strawberries, the hint of the same when the tip of his tongue briefly brushes against hers. It’s more than want; it’s the relief of having her that close again, the lift of the stress and the worry that had been plaguing him since asking for her help, the gratitude that she’d even agreed.

There is so much to lose. The risk far greater than the reward. And he’s desperate to keep her close; to feel her lips against his, their bodies pressed together, all of his senses filled with her scent, her taste, the sound of her soft sigh when he leans into her and pins her against the car.

“Mmm…” there’s a smile on her lips as she pulls away, eyes closed as he presses his forehead against hers. “…that was…nice…”

“I missed you,” he says, as he lays a hand on her cheek, thumb softly brushing over the orbital bone before drifting across and down the entire length of her jaw.

“I can tell,” she grins, and brushes a palm against the obvious beginning of his erection.

“Not just that. Although that’s pretty fucking amazing. It always has been. But I missed you. I missed us. I just got back home. I thought we’d have more time than we did. And I’m sorry for that. For all of this.”

She turns her face into the hand resting against her cheek, pressing a kiss to his palm.  “It is what it is, Tyler. This is your life.”

“No. It’s not. You’re my life.”

There’s a sadness to her smile. But also peaceful resignation. “I long ago realized that I was number two.  And I’m not saying that to hurt you. I’m saying that I accept it. I accept who are you. I accept what you are. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. I never would have called you that night when we were separated. I would have just cut you loose. But I couldn’t. I’ve never been able to. I should have walked away. That first night in Dhaka. But I didn’t.”

“I wouldn’t have let you. I would have chased you down. I would have followed you wherever you went. I would have found you.”

“And maybe people will say that’s your weakness. Me. And maybe they’ll say it’s an obsession. An addiction. That we can’t ever walk away.  That it’s unhealthy.  I even think it sometimes. The way we fight. The way we’re ready to rip each other apart in the worst possible way and then in the best possible way in the blink of an eye. But I love you. More than you could ever realize. And I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

Part of him says that the words she’s just spoken should break his heart. That he’s failed in some way, putting the job before her and not concentrating enough on their marriage or their family. Yet the other part of him is relieved. The things she’d said bringing about his own sense of peace. Completeness, even. For years he’d wondered just where he stood, in the shaky balance between mercenary and family man. He’s struggled to keep them separated. And her words have reassured him that he can be both.  She accepts it. Her love and loyalty her own blessing and curse.

He takes her face in both his hands, pressing a kiss to her mouth and then to her forehead. Lips lingering there, eyes closed, feeling her hands come up to cover his.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says. “Thank you.”

One of her hands moves to the back of his neck, then slides up into his hair. Nails scraping against his scalp where the shorn areas are, pressing into the skin before her fingers move up to comb through the longer strands. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you,” she says.

And means it.

*****

It’s quarter past midnight when they reach the hotel; she’d dozed in the car, lulled to sleep by the soft pattering of the rain against the windows, the rhythmic sound of the windshield wipers, and the safety and security that being reunited with him has given her.  And when he kills the ignition in the underground parking garage, he reaches over to smooth her hair away from her face, looping pieces behind her ears and the leaning in to softly kiss her awake.  Grinning at the content, dreamy smile that slowly spreads across her face.

“We’re here,” he says.

“Okay,” she yawns, and the wraps both arms around his neck and pulls him into her; her mouth devouring his as one hand rips off the ballcap and tosses it aside.

Her tongue aggressively pushes its way into his mouth, his palms cradling her face as he kisses her back with equal…if not more… fervor. It’s been like this for five years; an insatiable hunger, an almost overwhelming sexual attraction. Lust often overpowering love.  A honeymoon stage that has far outlasted what either of them had ever expected. By now most couples have fallen into a routine; the stress of raising a family and the often mundane rituals of domesticity putting a damper on the sexual aspects of things. But they’d found it’s only been heightened. As if the bond they share as spouses, confidants, and best friends is only strengthened because they make such great lovers.

“You’re trouble,” Tyler grins, and has to peel her arms away from his neck. “You were trouble five years ago and you’re trouble now.”

“The best kind of trouble,” she declares, and he can’t help but agree.

The underground lot is dimly lit; damp, smelling like mould, gasoline and exhaust fumes. There’s many hidden spots and dark areas where an unknown threat can linger, and as he carries his bags on his shoulders, he keeps a protective hand on the small of her back, a small amount of pressure keeping her walking half a step in front of him.  His eyes constantly searching; scanning those dark shadowy places where someone could hide, glancing at vehicles to see if any passengers suspiciously remain inside, checking over his shoulder to make sure that they aren’t being followed.

It was a risk going to the airport to pick her up. Even with a new rental under a fake name. If anyone was watching the hotel and had seen him leave, it would have been easy for them to follow him and then spot them together. Ruining any chance of using Esme as their ‘inside person’.  And putting an even bigger target on her back.  But there is also no guarantee that she hasn’t already been made the same way he and Yaz had been; word getting back to those responsible before she even stepped foot on the plane in Colorado. Which in turn made her travelling to the hotel alone just as dangerous, if not even more.

She breathes a visible sigh of relief when the reach the elevators. “That was a little freaky,” she says, and nervously bounces up and down on her heels as he hits the up button.  Five years ago, she’d been confidant. Fearless, even. But so much as changed since then. Good and bad.

“Everything’s fine,” he assures her, and lays a hand on the back of her neck, lightly massaging the tense muscles. “Just breathe. We’re almost there.”

He practically pushes her into the elevator when it arrives, dropping the bags on the ground and hitting the button for their floor. His own sigh of relief about to escape when he hears the door leading to the garage open, followed by three boisterous voices. Two males and a female.

“Fuck me,” he mutters, and then uses his foot to move the bags to the very back of the lift. A hand wrapping around Esme’s upper arm and pulling her tight against him just as the newcomers manage to slip through the doors before they close.  

The scent of alcohol practically oozes from their pores, their voices loud and obnoxious, the female’s shrill laugh piercing, especially in such small confines. But the three strangers all give a polite nod in greet, then turn to face the front of the elevator.  Tyler’s hand moves from her upper arm to her side, drawing her even closer. And he feels the way she relaxes against him. Comforted by his smell and the warmth he provides and the pure solid mass of his body.  He looks down at her, giving her a reassuring smile, and drops a kiss on the top of her head.

Esme’s eyes are riveted on the numbers that light up above the door, but she can’t help but smirk when the female grabs a hold of one of the males and kissing him passionately, causing him to stumble backwards and collide with the side wall.

“Newlyweds,” the friends says to them, and rolls his eyes. “You guys too?” he nods down at the wedding band that Tyler sports.

“Yeah,” he answers. “We’re here on our honeymoon too.”  The lie rolls easily off the tongue. Years ago, it became second nature; either telling small snippets of the truth or none of it at all. Whatever takes away any hint of suspicion.

“Australian, huh?” the young man observes. “I hear you guys have killer beaches and surfing.”

Tyler nods.

“I’d love to go there sometime,” he says, and then turns back around to face the door.

Esme’s watching the young couple against the wall, amused by the drunken make out session. But then suddenly her body tenses once again, a frown on her face as she steps in front of Tyler, placing her hands on his sides. At first he wonders if she’s playing up the whole being on the honeymoon lie, her nose against his chest, her hands sliding along his rib cage, then up onto his lats and back down again. Until her hand stops on the Glock holstered to his right hip.

He drops his head, nuzzling her ear with his nose before pressing a kiss to her ear. “What’s going on?” he whispers.

She lifts her head, their lips mere millimeters apart. “He’s carrying.  Left hip. Looks like a Sig Sauer. It has a magazine in it.”

He just nods, then places a hand on the back of her head and kisses her. More of a comforting action than a lustful one. Feeling the way her hands tightly grip the front of his jacket.  And he keeps her there, tucked securely into his chest with one hand on the small of her back and the other resting on the Glock.

The floors seem to pass by at a snail’s pace; he can feel her heart hammering against him. “Just calm down,” he whispers, lips against her temple. “Everything’s fine.”

The three strangers are staying a floor below them, and when the elevator finally grounds to a halt and the doors open, Tyler can feel her entire body relax.  And he gives a polite nod when the younger man and the couple wish them a good night and an even better honeymoon.

“What the fuck was that?” Esme breathes a sigh of relief when the doors close.

“Nothing. They’re just drunk and obnoxious. You need to bring it down a notch. Why are you so on edge?”

“Oh I don’t know, Tyler. Maybe because I just left the safety and security of my own home to help you go up against the IRA. I’m sorry if that’s a little…upsetting.”

“None of this is going to work if you freak out about every little thing,” he says. “You need to just relax and breathe.”

“He had a gun.”

“I have a gun.”

“You have a reason to.”

“And maybe he did too. Maybe he’s a cop. Maybe he’s private security. Maybe he just has a permit to conceal carry. Just try and relax, love. Just a bit. I know it’s been a long time since you’ve done this sort of thing, but I’m not a rookie. Nothing is going to happen to you. Did anything happen to you five years ago? In Dhaka?”

“Well not for the first five days, no.”

He frowns.

“I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. Things going to shit after that was definitely not your fault.”

“Did I not keep you alive? The first five days and the two after it?”

She nods.

“Then calm the fuck down,” he implores. “You’re safe. I got you.”

She smiles, then stands on her tip toes and presses a kiss to the underside of his chin. “So, newlyweds, huh? Five years is a long ass newlywed stage.”

“Sometimes it feels like five days,” he admits.  “And other times it feels like fifty. Years.”

“You are such a dick,” she laughs, and his hands slide down to grab a hold of her ass. “Maybe we can be newlyweds again. You know, just for tonight?”

“Just tonight?”

“I don’t know how much you have left in you,” she teases. “One night might be all I get out of you. You’re getting older and your stamina might be starting to go.”

He grins. “Is that a challenge?’

She cocks her head to the side. “Maybe…”

“Well in that case,” his fingers bite into her ass. “Consider that a challenge accepted.”

****

She doesn’t even flinch when the back of her collides with the solid wood of the hotel room door; their mouths locked in a savage, merciless kiss as unrepentant hands yank and tear at clothing. His much larger and stronger body pinning her in place; his fingers hooking in in the waistband of her leggings and yanking them down over her ass and her hips, allowing them to pool at her ankles.

“Really?” he smirks, when he discovers missing undergarments.  “You had to make things that easy for me?”

“I knew it would be late when we got back,” her hands push the jacket off of his shoulders, falling to his wrists before he tosses it aside. “I figured you’d be all out of patience. I thought I’d cut you some slack.”

“You know I like to work for it,” he says, and then his mouth is on her neck, her head falling back as his warm, moist lips sucks harshly at her pale skin, marking her as his. Teeth grazing against the hallow of her throat, his beard scratching her tender flesh.  Large hands pulling off the hoodie and flinging it aside, palms drifting up the back of the t-shirt. Nimble, experienced fingers finding her nipples, lightly pinching and twist as his mouth once more makes it way back up to hers. Pulling her bottom lip between his teeth, biting down with enough force to cause her to give a sharp yelp, his tongue pushing its way into her mouth.

Her hands yank his t-shirt up his torso, intentionally dragging her nails along his skin, leaving bright red tracks in their wake.  Her touch needy and aggressive as she explores his wide shoulders and beautifully muscled back, their kiss only breaking when he pulls back long enough to remove his shirt and add it to the pile of clothes. Desire pools between her legs just at the way he looks at her; a hand on the side of her face as his eyes lock on hers. Intense. Hungry. Burrowing to her very soul.  And she reaches for his belt buckle, only for him to grab her by the wrists.

“No,” he says, and forces her arms down to her sides.

She opens her mouth to protest, but he’s dropping to his knees in front of her, his eyes locked on her as his palms push her thighs apart, fingers digging into the soft flesh, a cry escaping her mouth when he places his tongue flat against her pussy, licking a wide strip all the way from the juncture between her legs to the top of her pubic bone. Two fingers pushing the swollen, moist lips open and his mouth zeroing in on her clit. Pulling it between his lips, grazing it with his teeth, her hands burying themselves in his hair.

“Jesus….Tyler…shit…fuck…” it’s all she can manage; mesmerized and even more turned on as she watches him eat her out. Fingers twisting at the longer strands of hair, pushing his face further into her. Head falling back and her hips moving on their own accord; grinding against his tongue with every lick, suck, and nibble that he unleashes on her. A litany of profanities, encouragement, and his name tumbling from her mouth.

One hand grabs a hold of her left leg, fingers pressing deep as he places it over his shoulder. The new position making it possible for his tongue to delve even further inside of her.  Thrusting it in and out, mimicking the movement of a cock, before turning his attention back to his clit and slipping three fingers inside of her. No lead up; just those three long digits being forced as far as they can possibly go. Before one hooks forward and finds that spot that she always thought was a myth.  And he presses, hard, as he takes her clit into her mouth at the same time.

She comes undone. Throwing her head back against the door. Screaming his name. Those hands painfully yanking at his hair.  And he continues his ministrations throughout the entire orgasm, moving those fingers at a slow and steady pace, the tip of his tongue now circling her clit. And the sensation is just too much; tears spilling down her face as attempts to push him away. It’s all too much. Too soon.

He backs off; his fingers slipping out of her, pressing soft kisses to her fluttering stomach as his palms run up the backs of the calves and thighs. Travelling all the way to her hips. Feathery kisses being placed along her pubic bone before moving higher. Making a slow, agonizing journey all the way from her navel to her mouth. Thumbs tenderly brushing away her tears as he kisses her, letting her taste herself on his lips and his tongue.

She reaches for his belt and this time he allows it; eyes on her hands as she unbuckles it and then pops open the button and yanks down the zipper. A low growl forming in his throat as she slides her hand down the front of his boxers and those soft fingers close around his cock. His eyes closed and his forehead resting against hers as her hand works him; slow and lazy at first, then more aggressive. Until his own hips are bucking into her and he struggles to draw breath into his lungs.

“Enough,” he orders, and pushes her hands away once again. “I don’t want to come like that.”

“Well how do you want to do it?” she asks, and something in her voice just sets him off. Igniting that primal, animalistic need inside of him. Arms circling her waist and lifting her off her feet; mouth once more on hers as he uses his strength to hold her against the door. One hand planted firmly on the cool, smooth wood as the other reaches between them to guide his weeping, aching cock inside of her.

“Tyler…” it’s a long, drawn out sigh, her eyes closing at the sensation of that initial penetration. And when he pulls all the way out and pushes back inside with more force, her legs wrap around his waist and her fingernails dig into his shoulders.

He takes her hard and fast. Face buried in the crook of her neck; eyes closed. His palm still flat against the door, the other hand slipping between them so his fingers can find her clit.  Applying just enough pressure to cause her to cry out, then using two fingers to rub smooth, quick circles. Until her entire body is shuddering against him and she’s biting down on his shoulder with enough power to break the skin, her scream muffled by thick muscle. He chases his own orgasm, moving the hand from between them and roughly grasping her hip; hard enough to bruises as his thrust become erratic and sloppy. His face still buried in her neck, breathing ragged, a string of profanities and her name leaving his lips as he empties himself inside of her.  Legs trembling and weak. Praying they’ll hold him up.

She pulls his head up by the hair and kisses him. Her legs tightening around his waist. The heels of her feet digging into the small of his back as she holds him tightly inside of her. Until his own shuddering subsides and their breathing begins to return to normal.  And she giggles into his mouth as he effortlessly carries her across the room and drops her into the middle of the bed. Her legs still wrapped around him; his cock still buried inside of her.

It’s two thirty in the morning and they eat the junk food that she’d packed in her oversized purse. A box of strawberry frosted poptarts, mini Kit Kat bars, and cheese strings that she’d stolen from the kids’ stash in the pantry.  Lying side by side on their stomachs with their heads at the foot of the bed and their feet on the pillows, Tyler is just his boxers, Esme in his t-shirt.  The tv tuned in to a 24/7 news channel, but the volume on mute.

“Déjà vu,” she says, as she tears open the foil on a package of Pop Tarts.

He arches a quizzical eyebrow.

“We ate Pop Tarts in Dhaka too,” she explains, as she hands him one of the pastries. “The first night we…”

He grins. “I remember.”

“The room’s a lot nicer this time around,” she muses.

“The toilet actually flushes,” he says, and she laughs.

“What about the shower?” she inquires. “Can you actually stand under it?”

“I can,” he confirms with a chuckle. “And there’s even hot water.”

“Holy shit, we’re just living the rich life. Do we even get complimentary bar soap and fuzzy towels?”

“And bathrobes.”

“Do we really have to go home after this? I don’t even have a bathrobe at home.  At least I get one here.”

“I’ll steal one. Just for you.”

“Tyler Rake…” she gasps dramatically. “…you committing a devious offence? Never.”

He smirks.

“Did you call home?”

Tyler nods.

“The kids haven’t given grandma a mental breakdown yet?”

“Not yet. But she’s only been there twelve hours, so…”

“I give it three days. Before she’s hitting the bottle hard and weeping as she rocks in a corner.”

“Three days is generous. I had it at a day and a half.”

“That’s longer than it took you to lose your mind while trying to teach the boys how to pee standing up. And you’re supposed to be the patient one. See what I mean? About boys being the hard ones?”

“Bullshit. Millie is a hundred times harder than the two of them put together. Her attitude is enough to drive me to drink. And she’s only five.”

“I wonder where she gets that from. Her propensity for being an asshole.”

Tyler stares at her pointedly.

“Oh, excuse you! I don’t think so. You are a much bigger asshole than I am.”

“How you figure?”

“You have a resting asshole face. All the time. And you’re sarcastic and a total wise ass. Not to mention, you look intimidating. You’re all big muscles and huge shoulders and massive hands and feet. Not to mention you’re absurdly tall. What did your mother feed you when you were young?”

“It was all the vegemite,” he reasons. “And I am not intimidating.”

“Right!” she scoffs. “That’s why the pizza guy nearly wets himself if you answer the door.”

“He nearly wets himself because I told him I was going to tear him a new asshole for calling you hot. Not that you aren’t. You’re insanely hot. But when the twenty-year-old pizza delivery guy is going around town talking about how hot you are and calling you a MILF…”

“It’s actually quite flattering. That the yearlings think that about me. You should be flattered. You have a wife that the guys half your age want to bang.”

“It’s not flattering. It’s fucking disturbing.”

“So are the women at the grocery store that get all wet whenever they see you. But you don’t see me complaining about it. I just sit back and laugh at them and be like ‘stare all you want, bitch. He’s all mine’. You should find it flattering though…” she rolls over onto her back, hands on her stomach. “…I’ve given you four kids and I still have a fairly decent body.”

“Fairly decent? You have a fucking amazing body.”

“Aww baby…” she tousles his hair.  “…you’re so biased.”

“Maybe. But it doesn’t make it less true. And no, I do not find it flattering that the pizza boy wants to get in your pants. That’s like Ovi wanting to get in your pants.”

“That’s even worse. He’s practically my kid. Speaking of getting into someone’s pants…”

“Would you let me fuel up for fuck sakes? I can’t run on an empty tank.”

“I wasn’t talking about you! I think Ovi and Chloe have sealed the deal.”

“Yeah? What makes you think that?”

“I said I would do some laundry for him and I found an empty condom wrapped in a pair of his jeans.”

Tyler grins. “Atta boy.”

“I’m not ready for this. I can’t handle him growing up. Where’d the old Ovi go? The one who wet his pants because you scared him so badly?”

“It wasn’t me that made him wet his pants. He’d already pissed himself before I got to him. What was I supposed to do? Let him walk around like that? It was traumatizing enough. I didn’t want him completely embarrassing himself.”

“And people say you’re nothing but a savage hard ass. You’re a big man with an even bigger heart.”

He snorts.

“Right…right…don’t talk about the feels. Tyler doesn’t like to talk about the feels. It emasculates him. Why do you have to be such an alpha male?”

“Because I am. Because that’s what made you fall in love with me.”

“No…no…” she disagrees. “I’m pretty sure it was the eyes and the voice. The muscles played a part too. A big part.”

“Stop objectifying me,” he chides. “I have feelings. I’m not just some piece of meat.”

“Oh yes. Yes you are. Sorry to say. But the best part is the fact that you’re not just any piece of meat. You’re my piece of meat. You’re my trophy husband.”

“That doesn’t work. I’d have to be younger than you. I’m five years older. So technically, you’re my trophy wife.”

“What contest in hell did you win to get that kind of trophy?”

“Whatever it was, it must have been very, very bad,” he teases, as he uses the remote to flick of the tv and tosses it onto the dresser. “Because…” he settles on his side beside her, a hand resting on her stomach. “…I am definitely being punished.”

“You’re such a dick sometimes, I swear.”

He presses a kiss to her temple. “You like my dick.”

Esme grins. “Okay, I’ll give you that one.”

He moves further down the bed, wrapping both arms around her lower back and then resting his head against her stomach. Letting loose a small yet content sigh when she commences playing with his hair. This is a side of him that no one else got to see. When he is tender and sweet. Needy.  He’d long ago found that level of comfort with her. Able to let his guard down completely and just be…human.

“Tired?” she asks, pushing his hair off his forehead, fingertips brushing against his brow. Tips pressing into the top of his nose, gently massaging.

He nods, yawning against her stomach and closing his eyes as her fingers trace the scar across the bridge of his nose and then one that runs vertically down the left side of his forehead.

“Maybe you’ll be able to sleep now. Now that I’m here. I promise I won’t wake you up three times a night. No matter how horny I am. I’ll take pity on you.”

“You don’t have to go overboard now. You can wake me up as many times as you want. Just give me like half an hour. Then I’ll be good to go.”

“I give it ten minutes and you’ll be out like a light. Snoring like crazy.”

“I don’t snore.”

“Sure you don’t.” She lays her palm against his forehead, just letting the weight and the warmth of her hand soothe him. “Tyler?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Smiling against her stomach, he tightens his hold on her. “I love you too.”

He’s asleep in minutes.

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me - Chapter 21

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​

“Hi mommy!” Millie cheerfully greets, as Esme journeys towards where her daughter sits on the shoreline, clad in one of her many bathing suits, head and most of her face covered by an oversized floppy sunhat. She’s the happiest when by –or right in- the water; calm and relaxed, that edge she always seems to carry softened and almost nonexistent.  

The ocean is a powerful antidote for all that ails you. Even Esme finds  that the mere sound of the waves and the smell of the salt that hangs in the air helps in easing the burden of the stress and worries that she often carries. And as beautiful as they are and how majestic the view from her back deck had been, that’s a feat even the mountains had never been able to accomplish.

“What are you doing?” she inquires, as she crouches down beside Millie, the little girl turning her face up for a kiss.

“Just stuff,” Millie replies, and turns a bucket of wet sand upside, adding it to the ‘castle’ that she’s already constructed. “Daddy said to stay here and not to go in the water without him.”

“And you actually listened? I’m impressed.”

“Well I don’t want a shark to eat me,” Millie explains, using the back of her sand covered hand to push wayward strands of hair out of her face.   “Daddy said that sharks like little girls with blue eyes and light brown hair the best. ‘Cause we taste like watermelon and that’s their favorite.”

Her mother smirks. “And you actually believed him?”

“Oh course! Daddy wouldn’t lie. And I’m not taking any chances. I do not want to get eaten by a shark.”

Esme glances over her shoulder, to where her husband is flat on his back, sprawled out in the middle of blanket; arms loose and relaxed at his sides, sunglasses on. “Is he dead?”

“God, I hope not,” Mille moans. “’Cause he’s the good cook and I’m getting hungry.” She wipes the sand from her palms onto her thighs, then cautiously lifts the edge of the receiving blanket that protects her baby sister –laying along her mother’s arm- from the brilliant sunshine.  “Hi Addie,” she presses a kiss to one tiny foot, followed by the other, then fixes the blanket.  “She’s awake. I think she smiled at me.”

“Well she likes you. You’re her big sister. You’re the one that used to talk to her and read her stories all the time when she was still in my belly. She probably recognizes your voice.”

“I hope so. And I hope she knows I’m not annoying like the other ones.”

“Your brothers are not THAT bad.”

“Oh, yes they are, mommy. I mean, I’d miss them if they weren’t here anymore. But they’re little assholes.”

“Amelia...”

“I know,” she sighs dramatically. “Bad language. I’m trying. I really am. It’s so hard though!”

“Especially when you’re around your dad as much as you are and he  has absolutely zero filter left.”

“He is totally a bad influence,” Millie agrees. “We had fun today. We went shopping and had ice cream and daddy made me buy him two blue Gatorades at the dollar store ‘cause we ended up being in there forty minutes instead of twenty. But I had to get glitter and paper so...” she shrugs. “He’s going to help me make birthday invitations.”

“He actually agreed to that?”

“Yup,” she sounds so much like her father, even with that one simple word. “He’ll do anything I want. Anything.”

“Except wear the tiara.”

“Oh, it’ll happen. He will wear the tiara. And I’m going to take a picture when he does and you’re going to put it on your Instagram.”

“I don’t think he’ll like that.”

“Oh well. He put the video of you up when you were sleeping and he gave you the wet willy.”

“That’s right. He did.”

“It’s only fair, mommy. He did you dirty. Now you have to do the same to him. I think you deserve revenge.”

“You know what I think?” Esme reaches under the hat to tuck hair behind Millie’s ears. “I think you’re an evil genius.”

“I don’t know if I’m evil, but I’m definitely a genius. You know,” she appears pensive for a moment. “Now that I think about it, I must be adopted.”

Esme laughs. “You’re a little savage.”

“I learn from the best,” Millie declares, then frowns as she notices her mother’s choice in foot apparel.  “Mommy, what the hell? Why are you wearing socks on the beach?”

“I don’t like the sand between my toes. You know that.”

“That is just weird.”

“I swear, if you start sounding or acting any more like your father...”

“I’m sorry. His DNA was stronger. It’s not my fault. It’s why I’m so awesome.”

“You definitely need to stop listening to him so much,” she lifts the brim of the hat and presses a kiss to her daughter’s cheek before standing up and wandering over to where her husband lies. “Are you alive?” she asks, digging her toes into his side, right between two of his ribs. “You better be because I haven’t gotten the chance to renew your life insurance policy yet.”

“What you would you get?” he responds. “Twenty bucks?”

“Twenty bucks?” she scoffs and settles down on the blanket besides him; placing Addie on his chest and stretching her legs out in front of her. “That’s generous. That’s ten more than what they offered.”

Tyler smirks. “Well one thing’s for sure. I can at least die knowing you didn’t marry me for money.”

“We had like what? A few hundred bucks between the both of us when you got out of the hospital? It’s safe to say neither of us were in it for financial gain.”

It had been incredibly easy to blow through nearly every cent either of them had in the bank, including whatever had been sitting in savings.  The first two weeks after Dhaka had been spent in a hospital in Mumbai, and Nik had refused to cough up the money to even cover a small part of the bill, citing that she couldn’t access private funds within the company, and there simply wasn’t anything left from the first and only payment they’d received from Mahajan Senior. In the end, neither Tyler nor Esme had received a penny from the Dhaka job, adding insult to grievous injury. Even transport to Australia had to be paid for out of pocket, and it had wiped out both of their checking accounts.  

Their start to their new life had been rough; a new apartment with barely any furniture in it, two months of inpatient therapy with only weekend visits home allowed, a baby on the way.  All while still trying to get to know each other outside of those five days in the dirty hotel room in Dhaka. But they’d gotten through it; every fight brought on by frustration, disappointment, and pain. Every harsh word spoken out of guilt and regret. Every time they didn’t know how they’d be able to put food on the table or properly take care of a baby once she arrived. But things slowly started getting better. Her old boss had contacted her saying she was owed a large chunk of money for previous work she’d done for him, even though she’d known full well it was just generous gift on his behalf. Then a check had come in the mail from Saju’s wife. Enough to cover six months' worth of rent and still have some left over. They’d never found out how she even knew who they were, let alone how she tracked them down.  

To this day, they’ve never actually spoken or met face to face. But once every three months an email arrives from Neysa, complete with pictures of her now teenage boy and an update on how they’re doing. No mentions of whereabouts; even behind bars, Mahajan Senior has a lot of pull in not just Mumbai, but all of India. His influences stretch far and wide, and almost seven years later, Saju’s inability to get Ovi away from Tyler and his eventual death is still viewed as a catastrophic failure.  It didn’t matter that his son had been rescued from Asif or brought home safely. Or that lives had been lost and others altered forever. Even Tyler, despite stepping up and giving Ovi a relatively normal life and the family that he both wanted and deserved, is regarded as an enemy. He was the one that stood in Saju’s way, after all, and more than once through the years Mahajan Senior has commented: “you don’t know how to die, do you”.  

****

“I think if we got through that first year intact, we can get through anything,” Esme comments.  

“That was a pretty shitty twelve months,” Tyler agrees, as he lays his palm on Addie’s back and wraps an arm around his wife’s waist, hand coming to rest on her hip. “There was some good stuff too. I mean, we got married and had Millie. But for the most part...”

“It was pure crap,” she finishes for him, and he nods. “But now look!” she cheerfully exclaims. “If anyone had have told you back then that this is where we’d be now, would you have believed them? That we would have gotten this far? Everyone was against us. Everyone. Nik, most of my family. And we’re the ones getting the last laugh. We’re the ones that are still together while their lives are shit. Is it wrong how happy that actually makes me? That we get to sit back and watch their lives fall apart?”

“Maybe a little bit wrong,” he says with a grin. “But I get it. There’s someone I wish was still here so I could rub it in their face.”

“Gaspar?”

He nods.  

“He did not like me for some reason. Kept calling me ‘that girl’ or ‘the girl’ even when I was in the room. What was up with that? I mean, other than the fact he was a complete sociopath.”

Tyler shrugs. “He was just protective I guess.”  

He doesn’t want to talk about it; Gaspar, the ten million dollars offer to give up her and Ovi. It still haunts him; how calm and callous the other man had been about the whole thing. As if it wasn’t two human beings that he was willing to sacrifice for the almighty dollar.  And he knows he’ll never tell her. The whole truth behind what had happened that night. What good would it do? Telling her that she’d come dangerously close to being thrown at Asif’s feet. The outcome would have been horrific; rape, torture, unbelievable abuse and cruelty. It’s bad enough that those thoughts still plague him. She doesn’t need them weighing her down.  And he’s thankful when she changes the subject.

“She wore you out, didn’t she,” Esme comments, a hand over her eyes; sheltering them from the sun as she watches Millie happily playing in the surf.

“She’s like having ten kids rolled into one. I’m starting to understand why her teacher is so tired at the end of the day. Millie plus twenty others?”

“Twenty? There’s thirty kids in her class.”

“What the fuck? Thirty?”

“Look, things have changed since you used to travel by horse and buggy to your one room schoolhouse.”

“You know what...” he slides his hand up to her side, then pinches the sensitive spot below her ribs.

“Ow! You shit head!” Esme cries, and then shrieks when his fingers did in just above the hip. Aggressively tickling her until she’s flat on her back; kicking and squirming and squealing for mercy.  Laughing until she succumbs to loud, painful hiccups. “You’re a dick!” she dramatically pouts and directs an elbow into his side;  still allowing him to draw her tightly against him, a hand coming to rest on the back of her head as he presses a kiss to her temple. “You almost made me pee myself,” she complains, as she rests her head on his shoulder and places her hand over his as its sits on Addie’s back.

“That’s what you get for making an old man joke.”

“I hear that getting extremely sensitive about aging is the first sign of senility,” she teases, and places a kiss just below ear, then to the scar on the side of his neck. And she pulls back to look at it, tracing a finger over the surface.

It’s almost seven years old now but has just begun to appear not as dark or swollen.  It will always be there; no matter much if softens. A lasting reminder of how close to death he’d actually come. Even now there are days where she can barely stand to look at it; filled with either immense sorrow or rage. And others where she feels nothing at all. Where it’s nothing more than one of the various battle wounds that take up residence on his body. She knows every single one and the stories behind them; able to find them with and trace them with her eyes closed.

“It’s really starting to change,” she comments, and then lays her hand on the side of his face and turns his head towards her, kissing him softly.

“It doesn’t both you are much anymore.” It’s more a statement than a question.  

“It never bothered me because of what it looks like. It’s never been about that. It bothered me because of what it represents.”

“You and I do not like at the same way. It reminds you of the end. Or what was almost the end. It reminds me of the beginning.”

She smiles at that and leans in to nuzzle the tip of his nose against his ear. Closing her eyes as she rests her forehead against his cheek, his hand moving from the small of her back to the nape of her neck and then higher; kissing her as he combs his fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her face and off her shoulders.

“You guys aren’t making babies, are you?!” Millie calls, her voice dripping with disgust. “I do not want another brother!”

Tyler chuckles. “This is not how babies are made,” he assures her. “Sometimes it starts out like this and then leads to babies being made.”

His wife scowls. “Don’t touch her things. What’s wrong with you? Amelia, we talked about this. It is not possible to have any more babies. Your dad got neutered.”

“What the fuck?” Tyler mutters. “Don’t tell her that.”

“What do you want me to tell her? You got the snip and had to lie on the couch for two days with a bag of frozen peas on your crotch?”

“You know how you always threaten me with sleeping on the couch? You keep pushing your luck, you’re going to end up there.”

“A full eight hours without you snoring or talking in your sleep? Sign me up. Awww...baby...” she gives a dramatic pout and places a series of kisses along his jaw. “...did I hurt your feelings? Did I upset your delicate sensibilities? I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“I can think of one way that I’ll accept.”

“We only do that once a year. It’s not our anniversary yet. So no, not going to happen. Anything other than THAT.”

A slow grin spreads across his face. “Anything?”

“I don’t like that look you get when you ask that.”

“You trust me?” he asks.

“I’m not sure right about now.”

“Just trust me. I’ll go easy on you. I promise.”

She frowns. “You’re not even going to tell me what it is?”

“Nope. You’ll find out. Once the kids go to bed. It’s not that bad, I swear. I wouldn’t do anything that would hurt you or freak you out. It’s tame. For me, anyway.”

“Even at your tamest you’re dirty. With a capital D, so...”

“Trust me,” Tyler implores, then gives her a long, slow kiss before sitting up; one hand on the back of Addie’s head, the other on her bum. Grimacing at the pain that settles in his shoulder and the stiffness in his back. Some days it’s bearable; he can get by without popping any pain meds and time in the water or even standing under a hot shower is all the help her needs. Other days he can barely get out of bed and there isn’t enough medication in the world to even take the edge of. The lasting and crippling souvenir of a hard, punishing life.  

“You need to go and get that checked,” Esme scolds, as she kneels behind him, a palm pressed between his shoulders as she digs the fingers of the other hand into the most troublesome spot: to the right of the spine, on the edge of the shoulder blade. She doesn’t even need to ask anymore. She just knows. Every spot that aches, every trigger point that send pain and numbness shooting his entire arm and settling into his fingers.

“I probably should have gotten it checked when we first moved here.”

“You think, Tyler? You really think? You know what I think? I think we’ve far surpassed it just being a separated shoulder.”

“A fucked up shoulder is more like it,” he says through gritted teeth, then stretches his legs out in front of him and places Addie on his thighs.

“You were supposed to take it easy after the replacement surgery. Not go back to what caused all of the damage in the first place.”

“I don’t need to hear this.”

“Well, you’re going to hear it.”  She wraps her arm around his neck, resting it along his collarbone as she digs her thumb into the most sensitive and painful area of the muscle. Causing a litany of profanities to spill from his mouth; loud enough for Millie to stop what she’s doing and glance over her shoulder, a concerned frown on her face.  “Why did you wait so long?” Esme sighs. “I told you when you got back from New Zealand to go and have it looked at.”

“I just thought it was separated,” he speaks through clenched teeth, his eyes closed. “Then I thought maybe it was just the arthritis flaring up. Now...”

“Something is totally fucked in there. I can feel something moving around. And there’s a lot of clicking and popping going on. You’re probably going to need surgery. Again.”

“Okay Miss Negativity. I don’t need to hear this.”

“You’re going to hear it, you stubborn shit head. What are you going to do if it gives out while you’re training Ovi? Or worse. When you go and rescue his sorry ass. Then what?”

“First, I’m going to dope myself up and hope for the best. Second, there’s no guarantee that I’m going to have go and bail him out of trouble. Let’s just get past the first part, yeah?”

“You’re going to pass the first part because you didn’t go and get your shoulder looked at when you should have. You need to stop worrying about everyone else and take care of yourself for a change.”

“That’s rich. You of all people saying that. Okay....stop...stop...fuck...” he drops his head to his chest; sweat beats across his forehead and trickles down his temples.  

“Are you okay?” She leans in and pecks his cheek. “You look like you’re going to puke.”

“I feel like I’m going to puke.”

“Seriously, Tyler, you need to go and get looked at. I’m not fucking around. Enough is enough. Stop being so...I don’t know...so YOU.”  Heaving a sigh, she sits down beside him one again, one hand rubbing his back comfortingly, the other softly stroking his thigh. “Go and get it check,” she begs. “Please.”

“Nothing can be done about it right now anyway. It would have to wait until the shit with Ovi is done. Then I’ll go. As soon as it’s finished.”

“You better. Because I’m not above being the kind of wife that makes your doctor's appointments for you. You’re worse than the kids sometimes, I swear. They actually listen better than you do.”

“I know. I’m a pain in the ass.”

“Huge. A huge pain in the ass,” she concedes, then tousles his hair. “Did you know Kyle didn’t come home last night?”

He removes the receiving blanket from Addie’s face, smiling down at her as he leans forward and presses a kiss to her forehead. “I didn’t know he lived here now.”

“He walked Salena home and never came back. Not until you and Millie left to go into town. You know what that means?”

“He got more action than I did last night?”

“It means that there’s trouble in paradise. Or hell. However you want to look at him and Nik.”

“I don’t look at them at all, so...”

“What is the hold she has on you guys? We’ve established she’s not good in bed. She doesn’t give head so it’s not that either. She doesn’t even have big boobs or a nice ass.”

“First, she doesn’t have a hold on me. She never has. She was there if I wanted it. That’s it. No strings attached. I’d fuck her, she’d leave. That’s as far as it went. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Were your standards that low?”

“I was taking Oxy with booze. What do you think?”

“I think I came along at the right time.”

Tyler nods in agreement.

“You have to admit, Kyle is way too good for her.”

“Don’t drag me into this. I don’t care what either of them do. He wants to marry Nik, let him marry Nik. Who gives a shit? Don’t take it so personally. Do I think it’s fucked he’d hook up with someone that cause shit between us? Of course, I do. But if he's that stupid, he deserves to be miserable.”

“We’d be related to her,” Esme points out.

“And? We’d never have to see her. You think they’d come here all the time or something? Nik would never settle down here. Ever. Trust me.”

“Kyle wants to. Settle down here.”

“He’d never win against her. Stop worrying so much her so much. Yeah, she caused a lot of shit. Or tried to. But it didn’t work and us being together and being happy and having a family? That’s the best revenge against her. Your brother’s a big boy. Let him do what he wants. You can’t stop him from fucking up his life.

“He’s my brother.”

“And? Your brother knowingly got with someone who tried to ruin your life. If you ask me, he deserves whatever shit show he gets with Nik.”

“But...” she runs her fingertips along the top of his hand, then along the smooth metal of his wedding band. “...if we could get him hooked up with Salena....”

“I’m not getting him hooked up with anyone. Leave me out of this. You shouldn’t even be involved in this. We’re adults for fuck sake. Can we concentrate on our own relationship and our kids? Because those two things are all that matters to me.”

“I didn’t realize we were having problems to concentrate on.”

“Did I say there were problems? Other than I think you should mind your own business? Stop...” he drapes his arm across her shoulder and pulls her into him, kissing her temple. “...let’s just worry about what us and what goes on in our own house. Who cares what your brother is doing or who he’s doing it with. He can handle his own shit. He does not need you getting involved.”

“I just think...”

“Esme...”

“...that he...”

“Stop,” he gently orders, then tangles his fingers in her hair and draws her into a kiss. Longer time and more intense; closed mouth upon closed mouth. And the tip of his tongue just brushes against her top lip before he pulls away.

“Okay...” she sighs, and grins when she feels him kiss the tip of her nose. “...that was...nice...”

“Nice? Just nice?”

“Well I can’t show you just HOW nice because there’s little people here. But trust me. It was better than nice.”

“Just let it go. This thing with Nik and your brother.  If he fucks up, he fucks up. He’ll learn his lesson. Let’s just concentrate on us.”

“I hate to break it too you, honey, but if we haven’t been able to concentrate on just us in almost six years. Five kids, remember? Do we even exist outside of being parents anymore? Because I don’t remember the last time it was ‘just us’. And I’m not talking about sex, for the record. So let’s not get into that conversation again. When is the last time we actually went somewhere without out kids?”

“Well it was just you and I in the bathroom this morning while I took a leak and you brushed your teeth.”

“That was a really nice three minutes of connecting with you, I must say. I’ll see you again in another what? Five, six years?”

“You wanted a big family. I was fine with three.”

“Pardon me? You’re the one who wanted a fourth and a fifth. You’re the one who talked me into it, remember? You wanted a half dozen kids and a stay at home wife and I was more than willing to give you what you wanted. So don’t start with that.”

“That means there’s one more to go if we agreed to half a dozen.”

“Oh no!” she laughs. “Don’t you even dare. I am done. I am babied out. You want another one, you go find yourself a second wife to give you more kids. Because this wife is done.”

“One more wouldn’t hurt.”

“It would hurt my vagina, okay. It’s seen five kids already. It’s a hot mess down there.”

“A SEXY hot mess,” he grins, and nudges her playfully with his elbow.  

“You are like the most biased husband on the planet and I love you so fucking much for it,” she wraps her arm around his neck and presses a noisy kiss to his cheek. “No wonder I keep you. You do wonders for my ego.”

“So one more?” He hopefully attempts.

“You’re insane. Why would you go and get the operation done and then decide three months later you made a mistake? Why didn’t you just hold off until after Addie and then we had this discussion?”

“I thought we were done. That was it. Five.”

“Because we agreed we were done. And now you’re changing your mind. Just like you did when Declan was supposed to be the last one. What is wrong with you? What is this overwhelming obsession to breed?”

“It’s not an obsession. I just...I don’t know...” he shrugs, fingers fidgeting with the hem on Addie’s sundress. “...I just want to leave something good behind when I go, I guess.”

“And you’ve made five very good things. Five very beautiful and healthy and incredible things. So why...?”

“I don’t know,” he repeats. “I just wouldn’t mind one more. Even it out.”

“She’s only three weeks old,” Esme reminds him.

“I didn’t say I want one right now. I mean eventually. A year from now. Two years from now.”

“That is not what you’re thinking, and I can tell. That is not what’s going on in your head, Tyler.  This started as soon as all this Ovi crap came about. As soon as you agreed to get back into things, you started thinking about this, didn’t you.”

“Maybe...”

“What’s going on in that mind of yours?” She combs her fingers through his hair, presses a kiss to his cheek. “That beautiful, troubled mind.”

“I don’t know,” Tyler admits.“I just thinking about if things go wrong...if I have to help Ovi and things just get even worse...what have I left behind? Did I do enough? Did my life mean anything?”

“Your life means so much more than you think. To me. To your kids.  Don’t ever doubt that, please. You will have left so much behind. You helped make five amazing little human beings. Who adore you and worship you and think you’re the most amazing man in the entire world. And you know what?”  She curls both arms around one of his “I think you are most amazing, beautiful man in the world, too. You don’t realize it, but you saved me just as much as I saved you. Don’t ever doubt how important you are to me. Or your kids. Okay?”

He nods and places a kiss to her brow before resting his forehead against hers. Sometimes even the biggest and the strongest need to feel appreciated and validated. Even if they’d never admit it out loud.

“And as far as this sixth kid thing goes, can you give me at least a few months? Because right now I’m worn out and sometimes I don’t even know if I can handle the five I already have.”

“Well for what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty fucking amazing.”

“You really are the most biased husband on the planet,” she grins.

“It doesn’t make it less true. And speaking of five kids, where’s The Ginger?”

“He didn’t want to come home from Salena’s and I was not dealing with the tantrum that would have ensued if I’d have forced him. You might be able to carry him all the way from there to here, but he’s damn heavy and I’m not even attempting it.  I told her that you’d come and get him after dinner.”

Tyler groans. “You’re going to send me over there? Do you know what I had to deal with yesterday when she came by here? Twice? Do you know she was checking out my dick?”

“She told me. She’s hardly shy in case you haven’t noticed. She wanted to know how I haven’t been split in two yet.”

“Jesus Christ...”

“What? Sometimes I wonder myself. Are you blushing? Holy shit. Is Tyler Rake blushing? I’ve seen it all now. You’re not usually like this. You usually don’t mind when a woman checks you out.”

“They’re usually not checking out my dick and my wife isn’t usually talking to them about my dick, so...”

“Baby, just so you know, I brag about every part of you. Not just your dick. Did Kyle call?”

“That was a weird transition. Why does he talk about my dick too?”

“I’d be very worried and disturbed if he did. I was wondering where our other children are. If he’s actually surviving out there somewhere with them or if you turned off your cell so he wouldn't call for help...”

“He left a voicemail. Said he’d have them home before bedtime. I said to keep them for a few days but...” he shrugs. “...he didn’t agree to that. Sorry. I tried.”

“You know what means? For the first time since Declan was born, testosterone is not in charge of the house. Now it’s estrogen.  Oh my God, you poor man.”

“You’re not PMS’ing, so I’m okay. I’ve survived almost seven years of that shit every month. I can survive one night.”

“We’ll see about that,” she gives him a wink, then places her hands on his shoulders to help push herself up onto her feet. “I’m getting too old for this shit. You’re going to be picking me up and carrying me to the house one of these days. I think I’m falling apart too.  Millie!” she calls to her daughter. “Let’s go and cleaned up. Daddy’s taking us out on a date.”

Tyler grins. “He is, is he?”

“When you do ever get to go to dinner with two and a quarter beautiful women?”  

“There was this one time in Thailand...”

“No one wants to hear about your conquests, Tyler. And by no one, I mean me.”

“Daddy...” Mille stomps over. “...did you see this shit?” she wildly gestures towards her mother’s feet with the plastic shovel in her hand.

“Millie, just don’t ask. Let your mom be as weird as she wants. I’m used to it.”

“Socks on the beach!” Millie huffs. “What the hell, mom.”

Tyler smirks, and clutches Addie to his chest with one hand, offers the other to Millie and lets her think she’s pulling him to his feet. “I bet you’re extra glad my DNA was stronger the day you were made, aren’t you?”

“So glad,” Millie agrees, and then shrieks when he scoops her effortlessly with one hand, giggling hysterically and her legs kicking as he tucks her under his arm, carrying her ‘football style’.  

“You know...” Esme muses, as she curls an arm around his waist. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe things will go okay. With Ovi.”

“They will,” he promises. And hopes that those words sound more convincing to her ears than they do to his own.

[chickensarentcheap]

I Found- Chapter 16

I wasn’t going to post this tonight, but there’s a lot of Ovi in it for @c-a-v-a-l-r-y

Also tagging: @alievans007 and @hemmyworthy

No warnings

Ovi is out the front door and sprinting for the car before Tyler even manages to get both feet on the ground.    Stumbling backwards when the kid catches him off guard: both of those skinny arms wrapping around his upper torso and embracing him tightly.

“Easy there, mate,” he gives a soft chuckle, both embarrassed and startled by the kid's outward show of affection.  “Easy.”

He imagines that there's a huge sense of relief now that he's there to help; Ovi trusts him and knows that he'll stop at nothing to keep him safe.  He had proven his worth in that department when he'd found a way to get the kid to safety despite knowing the job was well and truly fucked.  But there's probably also the sheer joy of just being able to see him in person. His own two eyes able to see for themselves that Tyler was indeed healthy.  That he's truly alive and well and right there under his fingertips. Not bloodied and battered back on that bridge telling him to run for the helicopter.  How he'd watched with relief when  Tyler rallied back and d towards them, only to be shot in the neck. And the last 'in person' memory the kid had of him was seeing him collapsed on the sidewalk, Esme holding him while he lying.  Ovi had been rushed to safety before finding out that Tyler had somehow miraculously survived and was in the hospital, struggling to hold on.  That he'd be transferred to a facility in Australia when...and if...he was ever stable enough.

Tyler is effectively the only true father figure that the kid has. The one that Ovi calls when he gets better than expected grades or a the highest marks in the class on a test. The one he talks to about girls and his struggles to actually get the balls to interact with them. Who he chats about sports with. Who he confides in when it comes to his hopes and his dreams and wishes for his future.  He's terrified of becoming his father. Of being forced to take over the 'family business'.  He isn't that kind of person: ruthless, sinister, evil. He is a good kid with a good heart and a bright future. And Tyler had taken it upon himself to make sure things stayed that way.  In the past, Saju had attempted to fill that role but had failed miserably. Yes, he'd been protective and strong and had been willing to lay his life on the line for the kid, but he'd never been fatherly. He'd become nothing more than hired help.  Never nurturing or encouraging. Never understanding that sometimes a kid just needed to be a kid.

Tyler returns the hug; one hand on the back of Ovi's head, holding it against his shoulder. He can feel the kid's body shuddering against him and the tears through his shirt. And he's taken back to that moment at Gaspar's. When Ovi had clung to him on the stairs, horrified by what he had done. Watching the life drain out of the man that he'd just shot to save Tyler's life and, essentially, his own. He'd been emotionally and physically spent from the day he'd been through. And all he'd wanted to do was go home.

“Christ, mate...”  he holds Ovi at arm's length, tousling that unruly dark hair and gently slapping him on the cheek.  “...look how bloody big you've gotten. Like you've shot up a whole foot.”

“All grown up,” Esme agrees, and the kid embraces her tightly, a smile on her face as she take his face in her hands. “...you're making me feel really, really old right now,” she says, as her own tears sparkle in her eyes.

There's a genuine affection she feels for that kid. Perhaps her motherly instincts kicking in. But Tyler had even seen it back then, when she'd met up with them at that warehouse. The way she would get him talking about random things to take his mind off of their situation, how she'd smile at him and reach out and take his hand when he was struggling, how she'd reassure him that everything was going to be okay. Even if deep down, she wasn't sure if she believed it herself.

“I'm so so glad you guys are here. I'm so happy to see you,” he manages. That lower lip quivering before he breaks down again.  And she takes him into her arms once more, cradling and comforting the way any mother would a child in pain.

Tyler knows that the kid hasn't felt that in a long time: a mother's love, concern, and affection. She well and truly does care for that kid. And seeing the depth of that love and care even makes him emotional and he clears his throat noisily and reaches into the backseat of the car.

“Oh my goodness!” Ovi's entire demeanour immediately changes when he sees the baby carrier now in Tyler's hand .  That boyish sparkle in his eyes returning as they widen, a smile spreading across across his face. “Look at her! Look how cute she is!” and he's now beside Tyler,  bravely reaching for the baby.  Gentle and curious hands exploring; touching tiny feet and, stroking impossibly small fingers, running a finger tip over a silky smooth cheek. “Look how tiny you are,” he breathes.  “How can anyone be this tiny?” he wonders aloud, and then smiles at Tyler. “She's even cuter in person. She's so small! How does anything so small come from someone as big as you?!”

“Got her mom's genes I guess, mate.”

“She looks just like you though! It's kind of creepy actually. Not creepy in a bad way. But creepy in like, a wow kind of way.  It's so weird. She's like your little twin. She's got your eyes and your nose and your mouth and even yours ear It's freaky.”

“You trying to say my kid's ugly,  kid?” Tyler chides, and Ovi's eyes widen as he take his question seriously.

“No! No! She's cute! So very cute. Not that I'm saying you're cute or anything like that because that would be really weird.”

“I don't know whether to be relieved or flattered that you're not attracted to me.”

“He's just yanking your chain,” Esme  assures Ovi  “And he hears it everywhere we go. From everyone we meet. How she looks just like him. I'm the one that that had the all day sickness and got fat and gross, but by all means, have the child look exactly like the person who put in five minutes of minimal effort at the very beginning.”

“Five minutes,” Tyler scoffs.  “And minimal effort? What the...”

“I'm just saying,” she teases, and stands on her tip toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “Here...” she curls her fingers around the handle of the baby carrier. “...she's probably hungry and needs a change. You boys catch up.”

“We'll be in in a bit.” he says, pecking her cheek, softly and playfully tapping his palm against her ass as she goes, Jason and the other members of the team following close behind.  Frowning, eyes narrowing, when that kid from Louisiana has the goddamn nerve to place a hand on the small of Esme's back as he escorts her inside.

To the average eye, it would be nothing more than a gentlemanly gesture. To Tyler it's a threat.

“You two make me so happy,” Ovi gushes. Oblivious to the tension. “I'm glad that you stayed together. She kind of scared me, you know, when I first met her. When she came to the warehouse to help us. I didn't understand how someone that looks like her could be so brave.  I wondered how she couldn't  be scared to to come to our aid.  With all that was happening and the people after us, she still showed up. She could have just left.  And she didn't. That's real bad ass.”

“She's the real bad ass of the family, mate. And that's what she does. That's her thing.  She sacrifices herself for the people she loves.”

“Well I'm glad she does. I'm glad she wasn't too scared to help us. I'm glad she showed up that day.”

“So am I.  But don't let her fool you. She was scared.  We all were.”

“Even you?”

Tyler nods.  “Even me.”

“Well I'm just glad that that two of you are together.  She probably keeps you in line and out of trouble.”

“Trust me kid, I'm more scared of her than she is of me. Want to really see her go off? Wait until I leave the toilet seat up or dirty socks on the floor. That's when she really loses it.”

Ovi laughs at that, then suddenly grows quiet again.  His face sullen, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans.  “I'm just really glad you're here.”

There tears come again.  Scalding. Bitter. A lost and lonely little boy stuck in an almost grown man's body.

It's Tyler who makes the first move this time. Wrapping both arms around the boy. Pulling him close. Like a father.

“I'm here, mate,” he assures her.  “I'm here.”

***

The Mahajan's army of hired help has gone out of their way to make everyone feel welcome.  Each assigned their own bedroom within that sprawling mansion; fresh, rich lines on the beds, small gifts and notes of appreciation left on pillows., a  seemingly endless buffet of food and drink. The maids hover over them throughout dinner. Filling plates despite protestations of someone being full,  making sure that drinks were topped off,  that anything they wanted was immediately supplied. It was surreal to Tyler. Living like that. He'd always been used to an unassuming and simple life.  Spending those bachelor days between his first and second marriage in his rundown shack.  Content with living off the land. Being alone. His dog and chicken his only sources of companionship.

Bathroom chicken, Esme had called it. And still referred to it as such when the subject was brought up. And he can still see the both quizzical and amused look that had come over her face when she'd seen his rather unconventional roommate. The day that she'd been suddenly dropped into his life when Nik had brought her along to discuss the Dhaka job.  She'd pushed her sunglasses up onto her head, a smirk tugging at her lips, and it was the first time she ever spoke or turned those dark eyes on him.

“There's a chicken in your bathroom.”

A few days later, she'd brought up it in  a conversation and coined the nickname Bathroom Chicken.

It stuck.

He sometimes misses that old life.  That rundown but familiar little shack.  The peace and quiet that came with being out in the middle of nowhere.  But he wouldn't trade his new existence.  The comfort and security that comes with having someone to love and love you back.   With having someone other than himself to take care of.  Being a husband and a father again hadn't been in his plans back then, but now they were very much the two most important roles in his life.

“I want to hold her,” Ovi says, addressing the older Indian woman that lingers in the corner, her body swaying side by side as she hums to the baby in her arms.  Mahajan Senior had hired someone to help with the child care; promising that she was kind and caring and had decades of experience caring for youngsters. Esme had been skeptical at first when a strange woman with broken English immediately approached her and gestured for her to hand over the baby.  It was hard to trust a stranger with your own well being, never mind with the care of your child. Especially your first.  “It's my turn. I haven't got to hold her yet. I want to hold her.  I'm Uncle Ovi, after all.”

Tyler grins at that. Uncle Ovi. The kid already considering himself a part of their little family.

The woman moves forward, speaking in Hindi as she instructs him on to properly hold an infant. He's awkward at first; nervous,  surprised at how light she actually is, maybe even worried that he might hurt her. But then that little body snuggles into his chest and he smiles, settling back in his chair.

“I think she likes me,” he's over the moon about it. He's never been around babies before. He's an only child and doesn't have friends with younger siblings of kids of their own. And  his face is  as bright and glowing as a kid on Christmas morning that just discovered his biggest wish under the tree.  “She's not scared of me.  She's really light. And really soft. I like the way she smells.”

“She won't smell so good in about an hour,” Tyler says. “Trust me. You'll be surprised how rank something that looks like her can actually be.”

“He's only upset because he has competition for the stinkiest ass in the ass,” Esme chides, and digs a playful elbow into her husband's side, and then places her hand on his stomach and rests her head against his shoulder.

The help begins clamouring around them. Never speaking as they clear away dishes and cutlery, spiriting them away to the kitchen with promises of coffee and dessert.  For several minutes no one speaks,  relaxing in the comfortable silence. Their bellies full and their bodies weary from the long day of travel.  The only sounds in the room the ticking of a clock on the wall and the soft cooing noises that the baby makes, smiling up at Ovi, her fist tightly closed around one of his fingers.

“Have you heard anything new?”  Jason speaks up,  addressing the kid, and Tyler sees how Ovi's body immediately tenses and his eyes darken. And he's tempted to just reach across the table and slap the ever loving shit out  of the other man. He sure as hell didn't know how to read situations well.  How to adjust your approach based on someone's mental state and current level of calm.

Tyler speaks up  “We've got lots of time to talk about that. We just got here.  No need to rush into it.”

“We're not here on a social call,” the younger man retorts. “We're here on business. For a job. And...”

“We're here because Ovi asked to come here,” Tyler interjects, and he feels his wife's hand tighten on the front of his t-shirt, her body shifting uncomfortably beside him.  That head no longer on his shoulder as she sits up straight in  her chair. “This isn't a job that is only going to take a couple of days or even a couple of weeks. So relax, mate. We just got here.”

“Why don't you relax.”

 The reply isn't a suggestion, it's an  order.  And his jaw clenches and his eyes narrow, and he would have gotten up right there and then and just beaten the shit out of the kid, but his wife has laid a hand on his knee and is squeezing as hard as she can.

“I want to hear about the girl,” Esme changes the flow of the conversation, bringing down the level of tension. “Tyler says there's a girl at school you like, Ovi.”

His eyes widen, and Tyler can almost see a blush creeping into his cheeks.  

“You told her that?” Ovi is mortified “I can't believe you told her that.”

“In his defence, I sort of dragged it out of him,” Esme says.  “I remember you telling me about a girl. When we were in the warehouse and I was asking you about school and friends. You mentioned that there was a girl you liked. Is it the same one?”

He nods in confirmation.

“So what's the hold up?  From what you told me, she seemed pretty interested back then. And if she's still hanging in there after all this time...”

“I don't know if she likes me,” he laments. “Sometimes I think she does and then sometimes I think she doesn't.  I catch her staring at me a lot. Smiling.  Sometimes she acts like she wants to come up to talk to me and then changes her mind.”

“That's how it all starts mate,” Tyler grins. “Run away while you still can.  They're trouble. The whole lot of them.”

Esme frowns, then retaliates: grabbing a hold of that bit of extra fat that sits at the top of the hips and pinching as hard as she can.

“See what I mean?” he addresses Ovi. “It starts out good. They smile at you. They bat their eyelashes at you. Laugh at your jokes no matter how stupid they are. And they hook you. With how cute they are and how good they smell. And by the time you realize what a heap of shit you're in, you can't get away. You don't want to get away.”

“I have ways of killing you in your sleep,” Esme informs him. “I could do away with you and not one person in this room would squeal on me.”

Across the room, Jason makes a snide comment about how it might be the best thing to ever happen.

“Yeah, you'd like that wouldn't you mate,” Tyler smirks. “Something tells me you wouldn't mind being the one that actually gets to do it.”

“What's her name?” Esme is anxious to get the conversation back on track. “The girl.”

“Priya,” Ovi says, and his smile broadens. “And she's so pretty. Even prettier than her name. “

“So what are you waiting for?” she inquires. “It sounds like she's into you.  And why wouldn't she be? You're handsome, smart, funny, talented. Any girl would be lucky to have you.”

“She makes me nervous,” he confesses.  “So very nervous.”

“That's when you know it's a good thing. When you feel that way. Do you get butterflies when you think about her? Or when she smiles at you?”

His eyes narrow, confused. “Butterflies?”

“Does your stomach do funny things. Flip flop around and stuff like that. Do you get that when she smiles at you or when you think  about her?”

A long, slow grin.  “Yeah...” he shyly admits. “...I do.”

“Those butterflies are the best,” Esme declares. “I still get them all the time.”

Tyler can't help but smile at that. Especially when she takes his hand and squeezes.

“You should ask her out. She sounds like she's into you.  What's the issue?”

“I'm too shy,” he moans.  “I get too nervous around her.  I'm afraid I'll say something stupid and embarrass myself.”

“We all do that, mate,” Tyler says. “All us guys when it comes to a beautiful woman. I still say stupid shit and make a fool out of myself.”

“He does,” Esme nods. “All the time. You only know one side of Tyler. You don't know the sides that I do.  You don't know what a total cornball he can be.  He even has a romantic side.”

“Easy now,” Tyler chuckles.  “Let's keep some things need to know. I have a reputation to uphold.”

“He has a total soft side,” Esme continues.  “He acts like he's hard ass all the time, but he's not. He could give you pointers. I bet he could get you brave enough to ask Priya out. Just don't let him teach you any of his pick up lines. They border on sexual harassment. You'd probably get  punched in the throat for using them.  But he can teach you to be more confident. He''s more a man of action. And you know what they say. About actions speaking louder than words.”

The talk gradually turns to sports. World events.  Entertainment. As the minutes tick by, the room begins to empty. The security team excusing them for their hourly rounds. Each has a different area to patrol; spots to man through the night and into the morning.

Tyler is tired; jet lag is sinking in, all the trouble spots in his battered body aching at the same time.  Yet he can't shut his mind off.  He can't quiet the whispers that tell him that there's a threat closer than a lot of them actually realize.  And he is now only half listening to the conversation going on around him.  Eyes riveted on the mug clasped in his hand, thumb repeatedly brushing against the porcelain.

Esme yawns beside him, then gives his hand a squeeze and stands up.   “I'm wiped. I'm going to have a really hot bath and  go to bed. You boys keep talking. You have a lot of catching up to do.”

Her hands comes to rest on Tyler's shoulders, fingers kneading at the tight and aching muscles. Then he tips his head back to look at her and she drop a kiss on his lips. “I'll be up soon,” he tells her.

“Take your time,” she combs her fingers through his hair, presses her lips to his forehead, then moves to take the baby from Ovi.

“Do I really have to give her up?” he moans.  “I don't want to give her up just yet.”

“There's lots of time to hold her.” she assures him, and takes Amelia from his arms.  “We're not going anywhere. It's late. Little Miss needs her beauty sleep.”

Ovi bids her a goodnight.  Tyler just smiles, watching her until she disappears from the room.

“You're lucky,” Ovi says. “You got a second chance at a life. You've got someone that loves you. You made a baby. I hope you realize how lucky you are.”

“Sometimes I don't, mate,” he admits. “There's lots of times where I need to be reminded.”

He realizes that has to change.

****

He'd fallen asleep in the arm chair in the living room.  As they night grew longer and there seemed to be slowing down in the conversation, he and Ovi had moved to another room while the cleaning staff got to their tasks.   Despite the worry and the stress surrounding him, Ovi was full of exuberance; confident that this nightmare would soon to be over now that the one person he truly trusted had come to his aid. So instead of focusing on the threats and the fear, the kid excitedly told tales of school; the teachers he liked or disliked, gossip about those who were  considered the popular kids, hopes he had for upcoming tests and  ideas for projects.  Tyler had remained silent the entire time; letting the words just flow from the kid's mouth.  Pleased that Ovi was already feeling more secure. Which no immediate fears of the future and the trouble that was brewing around him.  And while he had no set in stone plans for his future, one thing was certain: he did not want to remain in India. He'd already been researching schools. United States, Canada, Australia, and he was fully planning on getting as far away from home as possible.

Eventually he had nodded off, curled up in a fetal position on the couch.   Tyler had gotten up long enough to turn the lights off,  returning to that arm chair; planning on sticking around long enough just to make sure the kid wouldn't suddenly wake up and  panic if he didn't find Tyler close by.  Only he had falling asleep himself; jet lagged and weary, a sitting position helping to alleviate the pain in his back and shoulder.

Not his eyes snap open; woken the sound of Ovi muttering in his sleep and the soft footfalls in the hallway, leading towards them.  His brain quickly orientating himself with his surroundings;  the Mahajan's elaborate furniture,  the feel of the wool carpet under his bare feet, the moonlight streaming through the wall to wall windows that look out into the expansive backward.  He can see the solar lights that mark a perimeter around the in ground pool, and the two guards stationed in the rear ward doing their patrols.  No sign of trouble. Just a quiet, unassuming night,  a soft breeze floating on the air. And as the footsteps draw closer, he eyes his handgun on the side table next to the chair. Weighing the situation; there was no sign of trouble or panic outside. The guards were alive and well. The alarm settings were armed.  The chances of it being an intruder were highly unlikely, and he doubted word of his arrival had even been spread about Dhaka yet.

“Tyler?” Esme's soft voice from the hallway.

“In here,” he says, and moments later she's padding into the room with the baby in her arms.  “Everything okay?”

“She woke up for a feed and now she's decided she doesn't want to go back to sleep,” her voice is tired, and she releases a loud, long yawn that hides in her elbow.  “You guys alright?”

“Yeah, the kid just talked my ear off and we both ended up falling asleep. Give her to me,” he holds his arms out and she gently places the baby into them. He  settles his infant against him; her stomach against his torso and her head on his shoulder, one of his hands on her back.  

“I woke up and you hadn't come to bed yet,” Esme says.  “I was worried that something might have happened. Or that you...”

“I already said I wouldn't take off,” he sternly reminds her, then gives her a smile and reaches for her hand, pulling her towards him.

She settles beside him; effectively fitting that five foot three between him  and the arm  of the chair, both legs slung over his thighs. Placing a hand on the back of her head, he gently draws her down into him, her face nestling into the spot between his neck and his shoulder. And she gives another loud yawn and rubs her cheek against him.  

“What time is it?” he asks, and she reaches onto the side table to check his phone. “Three fifteen.”

“Am?” he has no idea why he even asks. It's damn obvious. Just a brain trying to run on very little sleep, he supposes. Mixed in with the slight fogginess that comes with the withdrawal he experiences if he doesn't stick to a med schedule

She ignores the faux pas, and placing the phone back on the table, curls an around around his neck and presses a kiss to his cheek.  

For a while neither of them speak.  Their eyes closed, listening to the sounds of the crickets chirping outside and the baby's soft breathing as she finally dozes off.  

“It's sad,” Esme suddenly says, and his eyes snap open again.  The tip of her nose pressed against the side of his neck, breath warm and sweet against his skin.

“What is?”

“That people can have so much yet really have nothing at all.”

“How you mean?”

“Look at this place. Look how incredible it is. It's big and it's beautiful and comes with everything you could possibly want. A massive back yard, a pool, it's own theatre room and gym,,  a sauna.  From the outside looking in it's pretty amazing and it would be easy to be envious of whoever lives like this. Yet when you walk inside, you feel...nothing.  It feels empty. As if no one lives here at all.”

He nods as he considers her words. “Well really, it's just the kid here. The staff is here, but they're not here, here.”

“I just find it so tragic. That people can have so much and have nothing all at the same time.  Here's the kid who has been abandoned by his father and has strangers taking care of him. There's no one here that actually cares about him. There's no one he can talk to about school or get homework help from, no one he can go to with a broken heart. He's surrounded by people, yet he is completely alone. And that breaks my heart.”

“It is,” he agrees, and running a hand over her hair, presses a kiss to her forehead.

“As nice as this place is, as beautiful as it is, I would still pick that little shack of yours over it any day of the week.”

“Yeah?” he grins. “Even with the chicken?”

She grins against him.

“Even with the chicken.”

****

“We can't leave him here, Tyler,” she says sometime later, just as he was beginning to find sleep once again. “When this is all over.  We just can't.  This place is just going to drag him down.  It's going to eat away from him and it's going to it's going to break him down and he's going to start looking for what he's not getting at home. And you know as well as I do that things like that never end well. When you feel abandoned and you'll settle for any kind of love and compassion you can find.”

“He's a smart kid.  He has a good head on his shoulders.”

“This will never be fully over for him if he stays here. You said it yourself: one  Asif dies, another ten step up to take his place. If he stays here, he will never be truly safe. Just like we can never go back home. And that's why we can't leave him here.  We just can't.”

“So what do we do with him? We can't just throw him on a plane with us and take him away from here. He still has a father. Technically.”

“A father who doesn't care about him,” she points out.  “If you cared about your kid, you wouldn't put them in such a shitty mess to begin with. How does a father do that? Choose a life like that over protecting and nurturing their own child?”

“Same kind of father who kills people for a living, I suppose.”

“Don't even compare the two. You kill people in the pursuit of helping other people. Ovi's dad kills people because he's an evil bastard.  There's a huge difference.”

“Still not something I want my daughter finding out about me when she grows up.”   It's a sobering thought.  What the tiny baby nestled against his chest will be like when she is Ovi's age.   He's not entirely sure that he would want her to know the ugly truth of his past.

“You should go and talk to him,” she suggests.

“Who?”

“Ovi's dad.”

“Why the hell would I go and talk to him? Why would he even want to see me?”

“You're the man who saved his son. Why wouldn't he want to see you?”

“Maybe I could ask him where the fuck the rest of my money is.”

“It wasn't about the money and you know it. At least not at the end.”

She was right.  Somewhere along the line, the Dhaka job had went from mercenary work to mercy work.  The money hadn't mattered in the grand scheme of things.  All that had mattered was getting that kid home.  As if making sure Ovi was safe and sound was Tyler's way of achieving absolution for the mistakes of his past.

“What would I say to him?”

“You could start with, 'hey,I'm the guy that got shot in the throat and nearly bled to death while bringing your son back to you, you grateful fuck'.”

Tyler grins. “Tell me how you really feel.”

“Tell him that his son deserves better. That his son deserves to have a future. That he deserves a family. People that will love him. Support him. Nurture him. Someone that will help him become a good man that helps people instead of hurting them. I mean, he must have at least some shred of humanity left, right? Some inkling of compassion you can exploit.  I can't imagine him being that evil where he doesn't have at least ounce of love for his own child.”

“People like him aren't human, love. They aren't like you and I.  They feel nothing.”

“But it's at least worth a try, right? You could go there and see if he'd be willing to see you.  It doesn't hurt to go there and see what happens. “

“And say what? I'm here to take your kid? I don't know where yet, but he's coming along any way.  And are you really being serious about this? You want the kid to come and stay with us?”

“He trusts us. He loves us. Especially you. He would follow you to the ends of the earth.”

“We have our own family. We have a baby. We want more babies. Do we really want to add a teenager into all of that?”

“Not just any teenager, Tyler . This isn't just some teenager. This is Ovi. And he deserves to know what it feels like to be wanted. To be loved.”

Sighing heavily, he closes his eyes and leans his head against the back of the chair. His arm around her, thumb stroking her shoulder.

“He needs you, Tyler. And I think in some way,  you need him too.”

“Maybe,” he says.  “But it doesn't mean I'm what's good for him.”

“You're already an amazing father to your own kid. What would stop you from being an amazing father to him?” she rests her chin on his shoulder and looks at him,  her fingertips grazing along the shorn hair at the nape of his neck.  “Promise me you'll at least think about it  That you won't just leave the kid here when this is all over. Don't abandon him like his father did. Promise me you won't do that.”

Sliding his hand up to her shoulder, he kisses her. Short and soft and sweet.

“I promise.”

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary - Chapter 7

Warnings: SMUT

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @valkyrie-of-the-light, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007

Nik calls the moment they step through the front door; using his personal cell as opposed to the SAT, and when he announces who it is, he sees the look that immediately appears on his wife’s face. The annoyance that Nik has the nerve to call so after a mission when she’d already agreed to give him a minimum of two weeks off, and the worry that he may actually consider accepting an offer.  

“It’s probably nothing,” he assures her, placing a hand on the back of her neck and pulls her into a kiss.

He can taste the alcohol that lingers on her lips, feel the press of her body against his when she stands on her tip toes and leans into him. She’s normally not a drinker; not a single sip of booze had touched her lips since she’d gotten pregnant with the twins five years ago. She used to be able to keep up with him, now she’d reverted back to a light weight. The four glasses of wine she’d consumed causing her face to flush and both her body and brain to completely relax. And he’s tempted to say ‘fuck it’ and not even answer the call. Just rush through getting the kids to bed and take her into their bedroom and worshipping every inch of her.

“It’s never nothing with Nik,” she grumbles, and pulls his bottom lip between her teeth before departing, hustling the kids out of the front foyer and up the stairs.

“I’ve got some information,” Nik says, before he even has a chance to offer a greeting, and he steps out onto the back deck, sliding the glass door shut behind him.  

There’s a chill in the air; a steady wind coming from over the mountains and bringing significantly colder temperatures with it. And he pulls the hood of his sweater over his head and leans against the deck, elbows on the top railing.

“About this girl that Ovi’s seeing, yeah?”

“She checks out clean. Not even an outstanding parking ticket. Her employment is solid; runs her own day care and has had extensive police background checks done on her and passed every one. Her father is ex Air Force. A chief warrant officer that flew Blackhawks during Desert Storm. Extensive military service on his side. Including an uncle that was a POW in Vietnam and a cousin with who was awarded a Purple Heart in Iraq. Your kind of people, Tyler.”

“Let’s not go that far, Nik. Not many people are my kind of people.”  There’s a big difference between career military men and ex army turned mercenary.

“Things get a little shady on the mother’s side. She’s a nurse at Denver Memorial Hospital. ICU. Has been there for twenty-five years and doesn’t have a single blemish in her employee file. But there are some issues with siblings. Minor drug possession arrests, drunk driving charges, a couple of drunk and disorderlies, assault with a weapon, forcible confinement. Those last two came from a domestic abuse case in 2009. One of the uncles beat up his wife and held her at knifepoint when he came home and found her cheating on him.  He’s in Atlanta now and hasn’t had a run in with the authorities since.”

“So nothing much to worry about,” he concludes.

“Nothing that I think you should worry about. But I get it. Why you wanted me to do this. I wouldn’t want to be bringing strangers into my house and around my children either. Especially considering your history of making enemies.  But I don’t think this is anything to get worked up about. I don’t see any possible threats. I’d be telling you to keep her far away if I sensed even the smallest thing.”

“I appreciate that Nik.”

She gets it. The lingering uneasiness that comes with the job. With the knowledge you’ve pissed off a lot of people who have every reason to want pay back. And while he knows the chance is always out there that someone could show up, he hasn’t really worried about it since their last stint in Dhaka. The move to Colorado bringing about a sense of peace that had been missing in his life for years. Ever since he’d made the epic mistake of leaving for Afghanistan when his son was dying.

“How are you?” she asks. “How’s the ribs?”

“Sore. But I’m fine. I’ve had worse.”

“A lot of things went wrong.”

“Seems to be a recurring theme, Nik. If things didn’t fuck up, I’d be worried.”

“There were too many mistakes. Too many mix ups. A lot is going to change. Things will run smoother next time.”

Next time.  Two years…or maybe even twelve months ago…those words would have been welcome to hear; it meant unbelievably good money coming in and a chance of feeding that constant crave for danger. That urge to live on the edge for a few days and then return to his normal life.  Now those words just fall flat. He feels nothing. Not even the thought of that kind of cash sparks even the smallest bit of excitement.

“No more mistakes,” she vows.

He chuckles. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Nik.”

She gives a soft laugh. “Are you okay, Tyler? You sound tired.”

“I am.”

‘Trouble sleeping?”

“What else is new? Knees been bugging the shit out of me. The shoulder’s fucked again. I have a lot on my mind. Personal things.”

“But things are okay?” she presses for more information. “You and Esme…”

“There’s no problems there. Things are great. Kids are great,” he sighs heavily and turns around to face the house; watching his wife through the thin curtains in the baby’s room as she stands at the side of his crib. He thinks of stranger from that day. First in the ice cream shop and then in the restaurant.  And how he’d noticed the way the man had watched her intently when she had taken Millie to get cleaned up.   “You have someone watching me, Nik?” he asks.  

“What do you mean?”

“Do you have a detail on me? Or my family? Is there something I need to worry about?”

“I would have told you if there was. What’s wrong?”

He tells her about the newcomer to town; a brief physical description followed by how he’d been watching Ovi and Millie together before Tyler had showed up with the boys. There’d been a short interaction: nothing more than a stranger talking about being on a business trip and missing his own family. He wouldn’t have thought any more about it had he’d not seen that same man at the restaurant hours later, and if he’d not noticed the way the stranger’s eyes had followed his wife and daughter on their walk to the bathroom.

Nik listens intently; never interrupting or asking questions. But he can hear the light tapping of laptop keys as she takes down everything he’s saying. She’s meticulous when it comes to gathering info. And he knew she’d go back later and analyze everything he’d said. Looking for clues. If there were any to be found.

“You said he had tattoos,” she speaks only after a period of silence between them. “Can you describe any of them to me?”

“Not really. I didn’t really focus on them. He had sleeves. Shoulder to wrist. Both arms. I’m not sure what they’re of. He said he was from Chicago but he didn’t have an accent. I don’t know if that matters or not. Don’t they usually have accents?”

“What about the baseball hat? Was there anything written on it?”

Sighing heavily, he briefly closes his eyes and runs a hand over his face, laying it across the bridge of his nose.  Thumb and forefinger pressing into his temples. “It was camo. The standard green. Had a mesh back on it. Not one of the fits to the head type. The kind with the snaps. Orange lettering across the front. The initials CRPC.”

More typing. Faster this time.

“What about a vehicle? When he left did you notice if he was driving? Walking?”

“I had my back to the door. I can ask the kid later when he gets home. I wasn’t paying attention to much after we talked. I had my kids with me.”

“Find me the exact address of where you were. I’ll see if they have security cameras. Are they any crosswalks or streetlights in the area?”

“Not for a couple of blocks. It’s pretty much just a long stretch of road. No marked crossings, lights, anything like that. “

“I’ll contact the store. And the other ones around it. Did he say where he was staying?”

“No. But there’s a couple of hotels and a handful of bed and breakfasts.  You don’t need to put that many resources into this. Nik. I’m probably just reading too much into it.”

“When do you ever read too much into things? That isn’t something you do, Tyler.”

“Maybe becoming a dad has made me soft,” he scoffs. “Or paranoid. Or both.”

“It’s made your instincts even sharper. I noticed that about you on this last job. Your instincts were always top notch, but they’ve gotten even better. If you feel something is off, it probably is. I’m coming to town in a couple of days.  We need to talk. In person.”

“About?”

“I have a business proposition for you.”

“I’m not taking another job right now, Nik. I already told you that. I need some time off with my family. Especially with my wife. She’s been the one holding everything together. Least I could do is stick around awhile. She needs me Nik. A lot more than you do.”

“I’m not trying to take you away from your family, Tyler. That’s the last thing I want. And this isn’t about a job. It’s about the job, but not about a job. I’ll look into this man and get back to you. I’ll see you in three days.”

“Nik, I don’t think...”

“Three days, Tyler,” she stresses, and disconnects the call.

***

He checks on the kids. Fixing blankets, fetching favourite stuffed animals and glasses of water, reading stories that he damn well knows have already been read but he finds it too hard to resist those little voices and pleading eyes.

“You’re the best tucker inner, daddy,” TJ had declared, blankets so tight around him that he couldn’t even move his legs or his arms.  “I wish you could do this every night.”

There was no guilt trip quite like a guilt trip being laid on you by a four-year-old.

In the end, the three oldest had all ended up curled up together in the bottom bunk in the twins’ room, listening to one last story before finally giving in to sleep. And he’d spent some time kneeling alongside of them watching them sleep, listening to their soft breathing, stroking their hair, pressing kisses to their forehead. So many things that he wanted to say but didn’t have the courage to say them. About how feared that he would fail them. That one day maybe he wouldn’t come home despite fighting like hell to get there.  Or if they found out the truth about his past when they were older, and they were disgusted and ashamed of him and wanted nothing to do with him.

That thought hurt the most. At least if he was dead, he wouldn’t have to live with the guilt that he’d royally fucked them up.

Next, he went to the baby’s room and held him until he fell asleep. That little body tucked into his chest, breath warm and sweet on the side of his neck, a tiny hand fisting a piece of his shirt. Swaying back and forth in the rocker by the window, eyes closed as he breathed in that fresh, powdery scent that clung to the baby’s sleeper.

He’d been taking those moments for granted; cuddling with his kids, playing with them, kissing them goodnight and hearing them tell him they love him. Letting the job take up way too much of his time both mentally and physically. When he’d been declared healthy enough to get back into the game, he’d thrown himself into it with far more intensity than he had planned to.  Feeling as if he had something to prove to not only the people who’d tried to destroy him, but himself as well. It became an obsession.  Addicted to chasing that next high; the one that came with destroying evil instead of drowning his self loathing with booze and painkillers.

He finds his wife in the tub; immersed in hot water and bubbles all the way to her chin, eyes closed, and head tilted back, a half empty bottle of beer in her hand.

“I take you out one night and you’re already turning into a drunk?” Tyler teases, as he closes the door and locks it behind him.  Just in case. You never know when curious little bodies might come bursting in.  

“I only had…two…or three…” her eyes narrow as she attempts to count on her fingers. “…or something like that.”

“Four,” he helps her out, and then crouches down alongside the bathtub, grimace when his knee cracks and a pain shoots right up to his hip.  “And one beer. You’re usually not like this. What’s gotten into you?”

“It’s what I want to get into me,” she retorts, and then giggles.

“You can have that without getting drunk.  Although this is kind of cute. Seeing you like this. It’s been a long time.”

Their second night during their first stint in Dhaka she’d gotten so drunk that he’d had to carry her up the three flights of stairs to their room. And tend to her while she threw up all night long. He figured it that didn’t scared him away, nothing would.  “Just don’t throw up on me. You know how I feel about puke.” Blood he could. Brain matter. Entrails. None of that got him. But if he so as much heard someone in the act of throwing up…

“What did Nik want?” she inquires. “Phone sex?”

“Let’s not start that okay?” his voice is gentle, hand dipping into the water to scoop up an abandoned washcloth. Sure, booze made her uninhibited, but it also made her extremely combative. Well, more so than usual. “That’s a long time ago.”

“You still fucked her though. More than once.”

“That’s a long time ago,” he repeats, refusing to let it get under his skin. “Way before you. It doesn’t matter. Just like all the guys before me don’t matter.”

“I don’t see the guys that came before you. You still see Nik. Are you still attracted to her?”

“We’re not going to fight,” he runs the soapy face cloth along her leg; the fabric and his fingertips slowly drifting from the top of her foot to the inside of her thigh, then sliding around the back. Smirking when he hits that sensitive spot behind her knee and her entire leg jerks. “So if you want to fight, just stop.”

“Are you?” she challenges. “Do you still think she’s attractive? Do you still want to fuck her some times?”

“No,” he’s being truthful; all connection he and Nik had had in that way had ended a long time ago. He no longer wanted her. In the same way he didn’t want any other woman. “Why would I want to? I have you. I only want you.”

“I bet she still wants to fuck you. I see the way she looks at you, you know. The way she bats her eyes at you and wears those low-cut blouses and her tight pants and…”

“I think you’ve had enough,” he plucks the bottle of beer from her hands, finishing it one gulp and then reaching over to place the empty on the counter. “And you know what…” he begins the soapy exploration of her other legs. Eyes never leaving hers, watching the way her breath hitches when he nears the knee, her body anticipating the sensation.  “…it doesn’t matter what she wants. Because I don’t want her. I want you. I married you. Not her. There’s no other woman I want in my bed.”

His hand travels higher; the cloth now discarded and his palm sliding along the inside of her thigh, their gazes never wavering.  And when his fingertips brush against her mound, she draws in a shaky breath; eyes darkening with lust, nipples hardening.  

“Only you,” he says, and when his fingers push past those swollen, slick lips and make contact with her clit, her eyes closed and her head tilts back. “You are so beautiful,” his voice is low as he praises her; full of lust and need and the strain it takes to hold back. His cock painfully hard in his jeans.  She’s stunning; all the lines and curves of her body, the smoothness of her throat, the way the water glistens on her milky skin. And he longs to get his hands on her…his mouth on her.

She gives a small cry when he pushes a finger inside of her, the fingers on one hand biting into the ledge of the tub, as the other disappears under the water to latch onto his wrist, keeping his hand firmly in place.

He adds a second finger, swallowing noisily as she grinds against his palm. Unable to keep his eyes off of her as she begins to grind against palm. Pressing her body down against it, forcing his fingers as deep as they can possibly go.  Letting her do all the work in an attempt to get herself off. It is always hot when he can sit back and watch her pleasure herself, but this was on another level all in itself. Allowing her to use him…or at least part of him…to give her what she needed.  And he fights the urge to unzip his pants, reach into his boxers and jerk himself off.

“You gonna come?” his voice is raspy now, overwhelmed by the sight of her, of how much ne needs her. Wants her. “Tell me when you’re going to come.”

He adjusts the angle of his hand, so his palm is flush against her pussy, enabling his thumb to come in direct contact with her clit.  She bites down hard on her bottom lip, body jerking and sending water splashing over the edge of the tub, onto him and the floor below.  And when he increases the pressure of his thumb against the painfully hard nub, she reaches for him, grabbing a hold of his shirt and yanking her towards him.

“Kiss me,” she demands, and then shoves her hand into his hair and aggressively pulls him down into her. Her orgasm hitting her hard and fast, his tongue and his mouth muffling the sound of her scream.

His fingers continuing to move inside of her as those inner muscles contract and twitch around them and her entire body shuddering violently. Resting his forehead against hers as he waits for her to come down from her thigh. Listening to her breathing settle and waiting for her body to full relax before removing his hand from between her legs.

“You’re welcome,” he grins, drying his hand off on the thigh of his jeans. “You okay?”

“Mmm…hmmm…” she manages, her eyes fluttering open, regarding him with a content smile.

He stands, grimacing at the discomfort in his knee and lower back, fetching her a towel from the back of the door and then offering her a hand.  Slender fingers curling around his own as she stands on shaky legs, her hands on his shoulders as he uses the towel to try her off.

“You’re too good to me,” she says.

“So we’re not going to fight? I was pretty sure you were trying to pick a fight.”

“No. No fights. But you can fuck me like we were fighting if you want.”

Smirking, he leans down to kiss her, a hand tangled in her damp hair.

“You can even do that thing with your tongue that I like,” she suggests. “I mean, only if you want to.”

When didn’t he want to?

 ***

 He does that ‘thing’  with his tongue she likes. Twice. Each orgasm powerful.  Her entire body arching off the bed, hands in his hair holding his face tight against her, his palm stifling the sounds that erupt from her.  Then he flips her onto her stomach, slides an arm around her waist and forces her up onto her knees. Taking her like that; one strong, powerful thrust filling her, one hand on her hip, the other on her shoulder.  Fucking her as if he hated her.  His movements hard and fast. Unrelenting. Punishing. Grabbing a hold of her hair and pushing her face down into the mattress. And even though it’s what she wants…what she had asked for…he’ll hate himself in the morning for it. When he sees the bruises that his hands have made on her hips and the pained way in which she walks.  It’s always surprised him: how a little thing can take so much. How she can enjoy it as much as she can. When he’s aggressive and mean and uses her solely for his pleasure.

Trust. It’s the trust she has in him. Knowing that he’d never intentionally hurt her. That it’s all just a game and never done with cruel intent. The humiliation and the pain stopping at sex. Never crossing that line in any other aspect of their life together.

He comes before she does. The agony of having to hold back in the bathroom finally releasing. Pressing into her and holding her there, a strangled groan emerging from deep inside his throat as hot, thick semen bathes her womb. Eyes closing and his head falling forward. Legs shaking, chest heaving, feeling as if he’ll never stop filling her.  

And when he finally recovers, he reaches between her and the bed to find her clit, rubbing at it while trailing the tip of his tongue the entire length of her spine. Over the curves of her ass. Biting at soft flesh of her hips. Fingers working her until the fourth orgasm of the takes hold; not as powerful as the first three, but enough to have her crying out in the mattress.

Afterwards, while resting on his good shoulder, he wraps an arm around her and pulls her towards him, her ass nestled into his front. Their hands joining and resting against her stomach, thumb repeatedly brushing against the top and side of her wrist. And he presses a kiss to the back of her head and buries his face in her hair; relaxing in the warmth of her body and that familiar yet still intoxicating smell.

“So what did Nik want?” she asks, and he can’t help but laugh.

“And you accuse me of having shitty pillow talk.”

“I’m not the one that always announces they’re hungry afterwards.”

“Now that you mention it, I am kinda hungry.”

She directs an elbow back into his gut and he chuckles into her hair.

“I can only imagine what she wanted,” she huffs.

“Can we not talk about this right now? Can we not just lie here and not talk about this? The last thing I want to talk about right after we fuck is the job.”

“You didn’t do it, did you?”

“Do what?”

“Take a job.”

He sighs.

“You promised you wouldn’t take something else for at least two weeks. You said…”

He tightens his hold on her. “I didn’t take a job. That isn’t why she called. Well it kind of is, but it’s not all at the same time.”

“You make no sense in your post orgasmic haze.”

“She was just telling me about the girl that Ovi is hooking up. That all the background stuff checked out. Except for some uncle with a penchant for beating up women. There’s nothing we need to worry about. She’s clean. He can do whatever the fuck he wants now.”

“I wonder if he’s doing her.”

“That’s another thing I do not want to talk about or think about right after we have sex. Like you said, he’s grown. He can do whatever and whoever he wants. As long as he’s not doing it under my roof, I don’t give a shit. He can go and get his rocks off at a cheap motel or in the backseat of a car for all I care. Just not where my kids live. Only rule. None of that shit here.”

“You really are going to be the father that doesn’t let his daughter date until she’s thirty.”

“If I had my way, she’d become a nun and never look at a guy.”

“Are you going to think the same when your sons are out getting laid by whoever and wherever?”

“If they knock someone up, I’m kicking their asses. And who cares right now. We have tons of times before we have to worry about shit like that. Go to sleep. You’re drunk. And rambling.”

She heaves a heavy sigh, wiggles her ass back against his crotch, rubs her cheek against her pillow.  “Is that all Nik wanted?” she asks after several minutes, and Tyler groans.

“Esme…please…just go to sleep…it’s late…I’m tired…I’m fucking aching. Just go to sleep.”

“You aren’t lying are you? About taking a job?”

“Woman, you’re killing me here. How are you still awake? I just fucked the shit out of you and normally you’d be passed out cold. No. I didn’t take a job. She didn’t offer one. She just said she’d been in town in three days and wanted to talk to me. In person.”

“About what?”

“I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell me. Can we talk about this tomorrow?”

She releases his hand and flops over onto her side to face him.

“Are you kidding me right now?” he groans.  “Esme…please…just go to sleep. We can talk about this shit tomorrow. It isn’t important. I don’t know what she wants. She just said she wants to talk. That’s it. Now please…” he presses a kiss to her forehead. “…before I smother you in your sleep. You’re  a chatty drunk and I love you, but it drives me fucking mental. Just close your eyes. Sleep. Please.”

“Fine,” she huffs, and tucks her head under his chin. “Tyler?”

“What?” he snaps. “What now?”

“I love you. Even if you are an insufferable pain in my ass sometimes.”

He smiles as he drops a kiss on the top of her head. “I love you too. Even when you are a raging bitch.”

“Me? Never.”

He snorts.

“You married me. You must be a glutton for punishment.”

“You give amazing head and fuck like a porn star. Why wouldn’t I lock that shit down?”

“So romantic,” she laughs. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you don’t have a soft side, baby. You are all fluff.”

“Close your eyes,” he implores. “Go to sleep. It’s late. The kids wake up early.”

She sighs once more, nuzzling her face into his throat. And he holds her, a hand stroking her hair, until her breathing slows and evens out and her body relaxes completely. Finding sleep quickly in the confines and the comfort of his arms.

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 20

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​,  @innerpaperexpertcloud​

Every Saturday morning Millie has him up at the crack of dawn; a habit she’d developed after their first weekend back in Australia, when she pestered him awake, insisting he watch the sunrise with her. Six months later he can still remember the look of awe and wonder on her face; those blue eyes impossibly wide, her mouth hanging open in shock, hands clasped tightly against her chest. It became their ‘thing’. Sitting out on the back patio and watching as the sun came up, having breakfast and then heading down to the beach. If the conditions were right and the winds not too strong and the waves not too challenging, he’d take her surfing; she’d been a natural from the start, confident, expressing no fear or hesitation. She even had her own board: a custom job that he’d let her pick out and choose the colors and designs she wanted on it.  If things weren’t cooperating, they’d take Mac for a walk along the beach and throw things in the water for him to retrieve. Millie would collect rocks, shells and all the beach glass she could possibly find; adding everything to the already expansive collection she kept in shoe boxes under her bed.  Or they’d take a hike through the woods that bordered their property, and she’d use his phone to take pictures of any wildlife and ‘cool looking stuff’ they’d stumble upon.

It’s their time together. Before all her siblings are awake and the chaos of the day begins. Just shy of six years old and despite her penchant for profanity and fighting, she’s insanely intelligent and well spoken; introspective and wise, oddly intuitive for someone so young.  More like her mother than anyone realizes. And he cherishes their alone time. She’s not his first born; no one could ever replace Austin. But she’s the first in his new life; a living reminder of the second chance that he’s given.  A beautiful, amazing little soul that had been created during quite possibly the craziest and most difficult time of his life; in the midst of all the loss and the destruction that Dhaka had brought with it. An accident maybe, not but a mistake. Their bond is profound, stronger than the others. He’d been with her from the go after all, when she was still being carried inside of her mother’s body. When she was a baby, he hadn’t gotten back into the job yet. There’d been no leaving in the middle of the night, no being absent for days and often weeks.  And he’d been so grateful to be given another shot at being a father that he’d devoted every waking moment to her.

After the sunrise she helps him make breakfast; standing on one of the kitchen chairs she pushes right up against the stove. The same thing she has him make every Saturday: pancakes topped with fresh fruit and syrup. Proud of herself when she gets the responsibility of mixing the batter and ladling it onto the griddle. Talking his ear off the entire time the food cooks; the dreams she’d had during the night,, everything she’d learned in school that week, all the different activities she and her friends had engaged in during gym and recess. All bright eyed and cheerful, a stark comparison to his more sullen and quiet morning mood. But he humors her. Like always. Offering up nods or small comments at the appropriate times, sympathetic scowls or shakes of the head when she’d complain about something she found wildly unfair or particularly disturbing.   When all the food is prepared and they’re ready to head outside to eat, she throws her arms around his neck and squeezes as tight as she can.  And when she says “I love you daddy” in that little voice of hers, everything seems perfect and right in the world.

Breakfast is finished and he’s on his second coffee of the morning when she speaks again.  Her thick, unruly hair tumbling down the sides of her face and to the middle of her back as she sits across from him; feet up on the seat and her Hello Kitty pajama top pulled over skinned and bruised knees.  Those blue eyes dark and serious, her brow furrowed.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah?”

“Is it true you almost died?”

Tyler watches her over the top of his mug, lips pressed against the rim.  She’s already perfected the poker face, not even the slightest hint of emotion. And she suddenly seems so much older and mature than her actual age.  

“The other night when we saw Auntie Nik and Uncle Kyle,” she continues.  “Mommy said you almost died. Is that true?”

Fuck, he silently curses.  It had been bad enough dealing with the fallout of Ovi telling her about his ‘real job’; that the reason he went away so often was because he was ‘helping get good people away from bad people’.  The nightmares had lasted for two months; she’d wake up screaming in terror, often wetting her bed, sometimes even throwing up.  But now this? His own brush with death was something he’d hoped to not have to touch on until she was much older. If ever.

“It is,” he confesses. “I did almost die.”

“The bad guys hurt you?”

He nods.

“How? How did they hurt you?”

“You don’t need to know those things. Maybe when you’re older I’ll tell you. But you’re too young to hear all of that.”

“But it was really bad,” she states.

“Yeah. It was really bad.”

Her expression remains neutral, eyes fixed on her fingers as they fidget with a loose piece of thread on the hem of her night shirt.  “Mommy was there too?”

“Mommy was there,” he confirms. “She helped me. So I wouldn’t die.”

“So she’s a hero?”

“I think so. She’s my hero, at least.”

Millie smiles at that. Then quickly turns serious again; those deep lines in her forehead returning, eyes darkening once more.  “If you died, I wouldn’t be here. And neither would TJ or Tanner or Declan or Addie.”

“You would still be here. You were going to be here whether I died or not. You were already in mommy’s tummy.”

“Did you know? That I was in there.”

Tyler shakes his head. “I didn’t know. Neither did mommy.”

“How come? How come you didn’t know?”

“The doctor hadn’t told us yet,” it seems like the easiest and most logical explanation for a child to grasp. “We didn’t find out until a little while later that we were having you.”

“So if you died, mommy would have been all alone when she found out about me? She would have had to have me all by herself? With no daddy in the room?”

He manages a nod, finding himself fighting back his own wave of emotion. It’s something he doesn’t think about often; if he’d died and Esme would have been left to handle everything on her own. How she would have felt finding out that she was carrying the baby of a dead man. With nothing more than those five days in Dhaka to remember him by.

“That’s sad,” Millie’s voice is a near whisper, tears slipping down her cheeks. “Poor mommy.”

He doesn’t know what to say. Or if there’s anything he can say. No wise or helpful words of comfort that can heal that particular wound.  Especially when flooded with his own emotions: sadness, regret, guilt. That he’d ever put Esme in that situation in the first place.

Millie rebounds quickly; brushing the tears off her cheeks with the backs of her hands and tucking her hair behind her ears. “Were you happy?” she asks. “When you found out that I was in mommy’s tummy?”

“Yeah...” he takes a swig of coffee. “...I was happy. Surprised. But happy.”

“A good surprise?”

He smiles. “A very good surprise.”

“Because you were sad before, right? Because Austin died. And he was you first baby. I’m the second.”

“You’re my first too. You’re my first with your mom. That still counts. And yeah, I was happy because I was getting a second chance to be a dad. Your mommy gave me that chance. So did you. Did you know that I used to talk to you all the time? When you were in mommy’s tummy.”

Her eyes and her voice brighten. “You did?”

Tyler nods. “I used to put my hand on mommy’s stomach and you’d always kick it. I used to tell you all kinds of stuff. About all the thing we were going to get to do together. About how awesome it was going to be take you to beach and teach you how to surf. About how much I loved you and couldn’t wait to meet you.”

“Mommy said that you got to meet me first. When I was born.”

“I did. I was the very first person that doctor gave you to.”

“Did you cry?”

“I did,” he admits. “More than you did, I think. You were kind of quiet, actually. You were just looking around at everyone and everything with those big blue eyes.”

“What did I look like?”

“You were really small. Not as small as Addie though. You were three pounds heavier than her. And you had tons of hair. A little darker than it is now.”

“Was I cute?”

“The cutest baby ever.”

“Did I look like you or mommy?”

“Would I say you were the cutest baby ever if you looked like your mom? Come on now.”

“Daddy!” she scolds. “That’s mean. Mommy is very pretty.”

“She is. You’re the cutest baby ever and she’s the prettiest mommy ever. But you looked like me. You looked like me then and you look like me now.”

“That’s okay I guess,” she gives a rather forlorn sigh. “I mean, you’re okay to look at, I suppose.”

Tyler smirks. “Now who’s mean?”

“I learn from the best,” she declares, then reaches for the plastic cup of chocolate milk that sits on the table. “If you and mommy didn’t know each other and didn’t have any kids and you met her somewhere, would you still fall in love with her?”

“Absolutely,” he replies with no hesitation.

“Would you still marry her?”

“I’d marry your mom a million times over.  Think she’d marry me? If she didn’t know me yet and just met me?”

“I think so.  I mean, she obviously loves you, right?”

“Think so?”

“I know so. I mean, she puts up with your shit.”

Tyler laughs at that. “Yeah,” he agrees. “She does.”

“But I think you’re doing okay, daddy. I think you’re brave and you’re strong and you need to be nicer to yourself.  You need to say nice things to yourself instead of bad things. When you get up in the morning, you should look in the mirror and tell yourself that you’re awesome and no one is going to make you angry or sad or dull your sparkle. That’s what I do, you know,” she pushes her hand through her hair, moving it off her forehead and away from her face. “Every day when I get up, I tell myself, ‘Amelia, it’s going to be a great day’. I use my real name when I talk to myself. Just ‘cause.”

Tyler grins. “You talk to yourself a lot?”

“When I want to have an intelligent conversation,” she responds, and he nearly chokes on a mouthful of coffee. “I mean, have you met the kids in my class? Or my brothers? I have to talk to myself. There’s no other option. And I tell myself, ‘Amelia, no one is going to dull your sparkle!’”

“No one could EVER dull your sparkle, Millie. No one. You’re a lot like your mom, you know. More than people realize.”  

Esme is all personality as well. For years she’d had to hide it behind a tough, no nonsense exterior; her time in the Corps, the disastrous marriage to Mark, her years on the job spent lying and conning people. She’d never been able to be herself, for one reason or the other. But the true Esme had always been lingering just under the surface; vibrant and carefree, a bit of a wild child, one that loves life and everyone in it and tries to never waste time on regret and ‘what ifs’.   Moving back to Australia had brought it all out of her. It had been like meeting her all over again for the first time; she was Esme, but she wasn’t. Even now there are shades of the Dhaka Esme lingering under the surface, but that Esme is no longer in control.  The new one has taken over. And seeing those different sides to her...seeing her real personality come out...had made him fall even more in love with her. Which he had thought wasn’t even remotely possible.

“If you don’t think you can tell yourself stuff like that, I can do it for you,” his daughter offers. “I can tell you that you’re awesome and that you’re brave and strong and that there’s no better daddy in the whole, wide world. Not even in the whole universe.”

Tyler never thought an almost six-year-old could bring him to his knees, but if he’d been standing, she would have done just that. The words take his breath away; so innocent and pure. So honest.  That IS how she sees him. To her, he’s the strongest, bravest man that exists. She doesn’t know just how broken and damaged he actually is, nor does she have any recollection of the birthdays he’s missed or the times he’d left in the middle of the night without even saying goodbye. And if she does, she’s forgiven him and holds no grudges.

“Don’t cry, daddy,” she implores, and she’s climbing into his lap now and taking his face in her hands. “Don’t be sad. Be happy. I’m here.”

“You have no idea how happy that does make me. That you ARE here.”

Her eyes sparkly mischievously. “Because I’m your favorite?”

“I don’t have a favorite. I love all of you.”

She rubs her palms against his beard, giggling at how it feels against her skin. “It’s okay, daddy. You can tell me. I can keep a secret.”

Grinning, he combs a hand through her hair, moving it away from her face and pushing it off her shoulders.  “You’re my favorite,” he concedes, and presses a kiss to her forehead.

She gives a brilliant smile; one that wrinkles the corners of her eyes and crinkles the top of her nose. Then wraps her arms around his neck and settles her head on his shoulder. “I knew it.”

****

“I really do want a puppy,” Millie announces three hours later, from where she’s perched upon his shoulders, hands clasped together and forearms folded, resting on top of his head.  

They’d spent nearly two hours in the water; alternating between swimming and surfing, then had joined the rest of their family for a second breakfast. And while Esme and Declan went to the neighbors and Kyle took the twins for a ‘guys day, Millie had insisted of spending the day with him. Even if meant doing nothing more than going into town and running errands: picking up baby formula and prescriptions, checking items off a small grocery list, and browsing through stores. Since their talk that morning she’d been clingy; more so than usual, not wanting to let him out of her sight. And he enjoys it; the way she’s so attached to him. Even the way she can talk him into doing just about anything for her. Possessing the innate ability to get him out of his comfort zone without him even realizing he’s doing it.

“What kind of puppy?” Tyler asks, shopping bags on one hand, free arm across her legs to keep her in place.

“I dunno. A cute one. A fluffy one. Really fluffy. Like a little bear. But not as mean and big when it grows up.”

“We already have Mac,” he reminds her.

“Mac needs a friend.”

“He has you and your brothers and your sister.”

“A furry friend. Like him.”

“He does, does he?”

Millie nods. “Maybe for my birthday?”

“You never know.”

He and Esme had already made the decision; picking out –and paying for- an Australian shepherd that could picked up the morning of the big day. A friendly –albeit extremely hyper- little thing with enormous blue eyes and a playful disposition. The breeder had asked for a name so the puppy could get used to it and recognize it in the home, and without hesitation he’d said ‘Saju’. It seemed fitting; that man had been strong and loyal to the bitter end.  

“I’m going to be six, you know,” Millie says.

“I know. I was there when you were born, remember?”

“Did mommy cry? When I was born?”

“What is your obsession with people crying when you were born?”

“Mommy and I watched The Baby Story on Netflix. Everyone on that show cries when their baby is born. Did mommy?”

“Mommy cries at sad commercials. Of course she cried when you were born.”

“Was she sad?”

“Why would she be sad? She was happy. And relieved. Because you were healthy and you made it safe and sound. It was a lot of hard work, you know. Keeping you inside of her as long as she could. Couple times we didn’t think you’d make it that far. That you’d arrive a lot sooner.”

“Like Addie?”

Tyler nods.

“Addie’s super tiny! But she’s tough. And when she squeezes my finger, she squeezes really hard! When she’s older, I’m going to teach her to fight. So no boys pick on her.”

“How about you not teach her to fight and you just beat up whoever picks on her.”

“Like a bodyguard?”

“Exactly.”

“I can do that. Keep the boys away from her. Because boys suck!”

Tyler smirks. “I’m a boy. I don’t suck.”

“That’s different. You’re daddy. You’re a boy, but you’re not.”

“What happened to that Ryan kid?”

“We broke up,” she sighs. “I was sad at first, but mommy said there’s lot of other fish in the pond and I should keep fishing until I find the right one. Even if I have to fish until I’m a lot older. And she said I should never lower my standards.”

“She’s a pretty smart lady that mommy of yours.”

“She is. You’re lucky daddy. That she loves you. ‘Cause she’s crazy cute and crazy smart and lots of boys want someone who is crazy cute and crazy smart.”

“Yeah? What boys? I want names so I can beat them up.”

“Don’t be jealous just ‘cause boys like her. Appreciate it. They like her, but she likes you.”

“You know, you’re awful smart for just about six.”

“I know,” she giggles. “Cute like daddy, smart like mommy.”

“That’s exactly it.”

He stops at the truck to put the bags in the back and they continue on. Taking her to the pet store, where she ‘ooos and awws’ over the wall to wall tanks of various sizes and colors of fish, giggles at the antics of the birds and the hamsters, and gets to pet the kittens and a hedgehog the workers bring out for her to see. But she’s most intrigued by a large tarantula and the snakes. The kid that doesn’t panic when the Huntsmen spiders get into the house or someone finds a snake curled up and hiding in the toe of one of their shoes. She’s calm and composed while everyone else –aside from him- if losing their minds and Esme is threatening to burn the place down.

They go for ice cream next; in a candy shop very similar to the one they used to frequent in Telluride.  Millie never talks about Colorado or about their old home; almost as if those times never even existed and she’d been in Australia from day one. Her developing accent is stronger than the other kids’ and every day he hears her voice changing more and more; filling him with a sense of pride that he can’t quite explain.  

He sees the way people react to them together; the smiles and the passing comments they get, especially from women. It’s the visual, he supposes. Someone his height and his size catering to a little girl in pig tails and a flamingo patterned sundress.

“Why do girls like big muscles?” Millie asks, as they sit at table on the outdoor patio; kneeling in her seat in order to reach her bowl of ice cream.

“I don’t know,” Tyler replies. “Who likes big muscles?”

“Lots of girls. Mommy does. She likes YOUR big muscles.”

“Mommy knows a good thing when sees it, I guess.”

“I see the way girls look at your muscles. How they look at YOU. I hate it. It’s gross. You’re my dad. I don’t want them thirsty bitches looking at you.”

He frowns. “Amelia...”

“I know...I know...bad language...sorry.  But it’s true. I don’t want girls looking at my dad like that. You’re already married. To mommy.”

“Yeah, and I’m going to stay married to mommy. Doesn’t mean other girls can't look. Just means they can’t touch.”

“’Cause mommy will throat punch them.”

Tyler nods. “Exactly.”

“And don’t want Salena looking at you like that either. I don’t appreciate her touching you. Touching your arm. That made me mad.”

“You need to relax.”

“Don’t tell me to relax.”

He can’t help but laugh. “You sounded exactly like your mother just then.”

“She shouldn’t have touched you,” Millie continues her rant. “Only mommy should. Because you’re daddy and she’s mommy and you should only touch each other.”

“That’s a very good point. You don’t like her? Salena?”

“I dunno,” Millie shrugs. “I guess she’s okay. It just made me mad. When she touched you.”

“It’s no big deal. Mommy said it was okay.”

“I don’t care. It was wrong and you can’t convince me otherwise. Do you want other guys touching mommy?”

Tyler scowls. “Do they?”

“That’s not the question. Do you? Want other guys touching her?”

“There better not be other guys touching her.”

“Mommy would never let them touch her. Only you’re allowed to touch her.”

“Have other guys tried? Have you seen them try?”

“Daddy, you’re missing the whole point,” she sighs in exasperation. “Do you, or don’t you? Sheesh.”

“I’ll more than throat punch any guy that touches your mother.”

“Well then no girl should touch you either. It’s only fair.”

“You know, you are way too smart for your own good.”

“It’s common sense!” Millie reasons.  “I’m going to tell her when I see her. That she’s not allowed to touch you ever again. Or else.”

“How about you stop being such a bad ass and mind your business,” Tyler suggests.

“You’re my dad. You ARE my business.”

“Why don’t you like her?” he asks once more. “Other than the whole touching me thing.”

“It’s not that I don’t like her...I just...” she sighs and allows the words to trail off.

Tyler watches her at he eats his own ice cream; patiently waiting for her to continue. Recognizing that intense, deep in thought expression on her face. It’s one he’s seen many times in the mirror. Esme had called it ‘frowny eyebrows’.

“I don’t trust her,” Millie finally says.

“Why?”

“I don’t know, she shrugs, and licks ice cream off the end of her spoon. “I just don’t. Do you?”

“I’m trying to,” he admits.

“Maybe you don’t trust her for a reason. Maybe you don’t know what it is either.”

“Or I’m just paranoid.”

“No. That’s not it. Mommy says you have really good...” her eyebrows pinch together once more as she struggles to remember the word.

“Instincts?” Tyler offers.

“Yeah! That’s it. Instincts. That’s what mommy said. Those are good things to have, yeah?”

“Most of the time.”

“So maybe they said not to trust her, and you need to listen to them.”

He chuckles. “I don’t know what kind of ‘grow up juice’ they’re giving you at school, but I think you need to lay off it. There’s no way you’re only five.”

“Excuse you, I’m almost six.”

“Sorry. Almost six. You sure you’re not more like sixty?”

“Just six. But six means I’m getting bigger.  That I’m growing up.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“I can’t stay little forever, daddy. No matter how much you want me to. One day I’m going to get married and you’re going to have to give me away.”

Tyler frowns. “Are you intentionally trying to depress me or...?”

“I’m just saying. It’s sad. That mommy’s daddy didn’t get to do that when she married you.”

“He died a long time before I ever met your mom. She was just a teenager.”

“But even though he’s dead, he’s still my grandpa, yeah?”

Tyler nods.

“And your dad is my grandpa too. But I don’t get to see him. Even though he’s still alive. Mommy said he’s sick. Will I catch it if I go see him?”

“It’s not that kind of sick. You can’t catch it.”

She pouts. “I don’t remember him.”

“You were just a baby the last time I took you there. Did you want to see him?”

“Yeah...I guess...I mean, he’s my grandpa. Will he remember me?”

“Probably not. It’s been a long time since he last saw you.”

“When we moved away when I was a baby. Maybe you could take me there. To see him. So he can see what I look like now.”

“If you want to go and see him, I’ll take you. But...”

She arches an eyebrow, spoon in her mouth as she waits for him to continue.

“...he doesn’t remember who I am, either. Some days he does, some days he doesn’t. It might be a good day for him, might be a bad day.”

“Because he’s sick? Is his brain sick.”

“Yup. That’s exactly it”

“Which means we can’t even bring him popsicles and chicken noodle soup. Those always make me feel better when I’m sick.”

“He might like them, but they don’t help.”

“Hmmm...”  her eyes focus on the snack in front of her, spoon swirling around in the now melted remnants of ice cream; bottom lip pulled between her teeth. “...but it might cheer him up. To see me.”

“It could,” Tyler agrees.

“And maybe he can come to my birthday party.”

“What birthday party?” He inquires, and she gives him a sly smile, spoon poised against her lips.

“Amelia.”

“Daddy,” she responds, using the exact same tone.

“What birthday party?”

“Mommy said I had to talk to you about it. And then you could talk to her.”

“About...”

“Okay....so....” she scoops the last of the melted ice cream into her mouth and then ducks under the table, resurfacing beside him and scrambling into his lap. “...I thought it would be really fun if the whole class could come over.”

“To our house?”

She nods enthusiastically.

“That’s a lot of kids.”  And a lot of parents that will likely stick around. Each of them complete strangers. In the one place he holds most sacred and where he feels the most at ease. And he can feel the anxiety building at the mere thought of it.

“We have lots of room,” she reasons. “And a big beach and lots of water. None of my other friends have any of that. It would be really fun. A beach party.”

“And you’re sure that’s what you want to do? You don’t want to go to the amusement park or to go the koala sanctuary or...?”

“I like home the best. It’s the most fun. Mommy said to talk you about I.”

“She did, did she?”

Millie nods. “I know you don’t like lots of people around, daddy. It’s because of the bad guys, right?”

“You don’t worry about that stuff, okay?” He offers her the last spoonful of his ice cream and she happily accepts it. “Those things aren’t for little people to worry about.”

“But you’re my daddy,” she reasons. “So I worry about you.”

“I know. And I appreciate it and I love you for it. But you’re five...”

“Almost six!” she interjects.

“...and you need to worry about kid stuff. Not about that crap. And you really want to have you friends over for your birthday?”

“I do.”

“I’ll talk to your mom and we’ll make it happen. I’ll deal with it my own shit.”

Millie giggles. “You said no bad language today, daddy.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right. Fuck.”

“Daddy!” she erupts into giggles. “That even worse language!”

“You going to rat on me to your mom?”

“I’d never rat on you. Unless some other girl touches you. Then I will tell mommy for sure.”

“You’re touching me right now,” he points out.

“That’s different. I’m allowed.”

“Says who?”

“You’re my dad. You helped make me.  I still don’t understand how though. How’d you help? How’d you get me in mommy’s tummy?”

“I just did. You don’t need to know how.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so. Ready to go?”

“Ready!” she chirps, and then wriggles her way around to his back; wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his torso.

“You’re choking me,” he gasps and gags dramatically

“Sorry,” Millie laughs, and he waits until she once more gets herself up onto his shoulder, hands tightly gripping his hair as he stands up. “Don’t drop me!” she pleads. “You’re a giant and I’ve got a long way to fall!”

“Your hard head will protect you,” he assures her.

“I don’t have a hard head. That’s mean, daddy. Let’s go to the dollar store!” she declares, as he tosses the empty bowls and dirty spoons into the trash.

“No way. I take you in there, I’m stuck there for hours.”

“I need craft paper. And glitter.”

“For what?”

“Birthday invitations. I want to make my own. You can help.”

“That’s more your mother’s thing.”

“Mommy does enough. You can help.”

“Millie...”

“Daddy...” she giggles.

“How do you always manage to talk me into these things?”

“Because you love me and I’m your favorite.”

“Fifteen minutes in the store. In and out.”

“Twenty if the line is long,” Millie debates.

“I’m only agreeing to twenty if you use your allowance and buy me a Gatorade.

She laughs and rests her chin on the top of his head. “Deal.”

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary - Chapter 10

 Warnings: parent/child angst and strife. Some language.

We also finally get info on how the hell Tyler and Esme ended up in Dhaka together ;)

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @alievans007, @valkyrie-of-the-light, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y

If it isn’t too much trouble, just leave a comment or even send me a message! I love hearing from you guys!!

@valkyrie-of-the-light  we are getting closer to finding out who the stranger is ;)

“In all fairness,” Esme says with a yawn, as she lays in the middle of their rumpled bed. “I don’t think Ovi meant to cause problems.”

It’s seven thirty in the morning and the house remains in peaceful slumber; unusual, as all of the kids are usually up and causing chaos at the crack of dawn. The baby is at the breast; suckling sleepily and contently, while Millie is tucked into her side; snoring lightly, a thumb in her mouth. A bad habit she’d managed to break before starting kindergarten but always reverted back to in times of stress.

“He just should have kept his goddamn mouth shut,” Tyler grumbles, as he pulls on a pair of baggy and weathered jeans, doing up the zipper and button before attending to his belt.

“Well she did ask,” his wife attempts to reason, watching him as he dresses, eyes feasting on those broad shoulders and wide back; his skin a canvas for the bulging, rippling muscles, tattoos, scars, and now bright red and brutal looking scratch marks caused by her nails. “She wanted to know why you go away so much. She’s five and curious. Not to mention she misses you like crazy when you’re gone.”

It’s hard on all of them, but it’s especially difficult for the little five-year-old that thinks the sun rises and sets on her father. In her mind there’s nothing he can’t do. No promise big or small that can’t keep or no problem he can’t fix. And when he’s gone she’s heartbroken; refusing to sleep in her own bed and choosing to stay with her mother, sleeping on his pillow, wanting to cuddle up to one of his dirty shirts so she can smell him. When he calls or video chats, she’s the first and the last he talks to. Then spends hours in tears after he disconnects.

“It’s way too early for a guilt trip,” he says, and pulls a simple white t-shirt over his head.

“That’s not what I was doing and you know it. When have I ever guilt tripped you over making the decision you did? And I mean an intentional guilt trip.”

It would have been so easy for her to do. He knows that. He’d made the decision without her and had even talked to Nik about getting back into the game before he mentioned it to his own wife. It should have been talked about. She should have at least had a chance to argue her side against it instead of just feeling as if her hands were tied and her opinion or her fears and worries didn’t matter.  In many ways he still struggles to find a balance between the way he was before and his role as a husband and a father. He’d spent years only worrying about himself (and even that wasn’t done well) and it wasn’t an easy habit to break.

Yet not once has she ever intentionally made him feel guilty for going back on the job. He knew she was pissed. That she still is at times. Disappointed that he just couldn’t walk away and make a clean break from it for the sake of her and their kids. But she still supported him. Never made him feel like a selfish fuck.

Even though he often felt that way about himself.

“At the hospital when you were having the twins,” he says. “You lost your shit on me.”

“I had been in labour for eighteen hours and you’d just gotten back from Croatia on the only flight you could find. And you were covered in dirt and blood and wearing fatigues and you looked like you’d just walked out of a war zone. The doctors and the nurses wondered what the hell had happened to you. Not to mention the epidural wouldn’t take. You can’t take anything seriously I said at that point. I was just pissed at you because I was in bloody agony. And because of your weak as fuck pull out game.”

He smirks at that.

“She asked him, Tyler. She wanted to know why you leave so much and where you go. What was he supposed to say?”

“He could have said anything. He could have made up any kind of bullshit. He didn’t have to tell her that.”

“Didn’t have to tell her what? The truth? Because that’s all he did. And it’s not like he went into all the gory and brutal details. All he told her is that when people need help, you go and help them. You get them away from bad guys. Because that is exactly what you do.”

“But it’s not all I do.”

“She doesn’t need to know that part. She doesn’t need to know how capable you are of hurting people. Of killing people. All she wanted to know is what you do and where you go. Ovi explained the best he could. It was better than lying to her and then her being totally pissed when she’s older and finds out the truth. She thinks you’re a superhero.”

He sighs, sitting at the end of the bed as he straps on his watch. “I’m no hero. Especially not a super one.”

“Oh I don’t know about that,” she stretches out her leg and rubs the tips of her toes against the small of his back. “You’re built like one. Not to mention sexy as hell. Aren’t most superhero’s sexy? So you fit most of the categories.”

He reaches around to grab her foot; massaging softly as he winks at her over his shoulder.

“The people you help think you’re a hero,” she says. “So do their families. So does your daughter. And so do I.”

He doesn’t deserve that kind of praise. At least not in his own mind. While it may be physically easy to inflict pain and even death on those deemed to deserve it, it was difficult…mentally speaking…to take a life. After the adrenaline wore off and you were able to register both what happened and that you were still alive, reality would set in. And he’d be covered in someone else’s blood and God knows what else and he’d think about how he’d just killed someone else’s family member. Someone’s son. Brother. Uncle. Friend. Maybe even someone’s husband and father.

He did what he did out of necessity. Not pride.

He stands, running a hand over his weary face and then raking his fingers through his damp hair. Collecting his wallet and sunglasses of the nightstand on his side of the bed, sliding the former into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Please tell me you’ll be home by the time Ovi’s girlfriend…or whatever the hell she is…gets here. If you abandon me and leave me to deal with this by myself…”

He leans over the bed to kiss her. “If I’m not home in a few hours, just assume your mother somehow managed to kill me and has hidden the body somewhere you’ll never find it.”

“Thank you, for doing this for me. I know it isn’t easy for you.”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. You know that.” He kisses her again, a finger hooked under her chin, tilting her face up towards his. “I love you.”  Those words had never come easily to him. Not until he’d met her. Now he says them as often as he can. Just in case.

She smiles. “I love you too. Try not to let her get to you. Easier said than done, I know. But I’m sure she’s going to try to bait you into lashing out. Just so she can paint you as the bad guy.”

“I can handle her,” he assures her, then leans down to drop a kiss on Millie’s head and then the baby’s.

“Call when you get there,” she says as he heads for the door. “Just so I know you got there safe and sound.”

“You’re turning soft on me in your old age,” he teases, running a hand over her hair and giving her one last kiss.

“Maybe I just like knowing you’re okay. I can’t control what goes on thousands of miles away, but I feel like I can when it’s forty-five minutes.”

He’s the same. Always wanting to know if she got somewhere safe and sound. Life was way too short not to remind the people you love just how much you actually do care about them. And sometimes that love comes out in different ways; verbally, gestures of appreciation and affection, making sure they check in so you know they’re okay.

“Check on the boys,” she suggests before he slips out of the room.  

“I will,” he promises, and gives her a wink before stepping out into the hallway.

 ****

His mother in law answers on the third knock; eyes glassy and cheeks flushed.  And he can smell the booze on her when she gives him a stiff and awkward one-armed hug. Even this small gesture of affection is out of character for her; she was more apt to punch him in the throat or kick him in the nuts than give him any sort of hug. It takes him by surprise; brain needing a few minutes to register just what the hell is happening. Slowly and a bit reluctantly bringing his hand up to settle in the middle of her shoulder blades.

“It’s good to see you,” her voice is slightly slurred and she’s a little uneasy on her feet as she lays a hand on his arm, both steadying herself and guiding him towards the hall that leads to the kitchen. “Esme is right. You do smell really good.”

He smirks, toeing off his boots, hoping he doesn’t come across as rude when he gently removes his arm from his grasp and then gestures for her to go first.  Being drunk doesn’t make up for all the things she’s said and done while sober. He doesn’t give a shit about her opinion on him; he’s heard worse from better. But he’s been in her company when she’s tried gaslighting her own daughter and has heard the abuse she’s lumped on Esme for years.  He tries to remind himself that he’s here for his wife. For his kids. When his mother in law had left a voice message on his cell asking him to come to the house for a ‘chat’, he’d been leery about her attentions.

But he’d seen the way Esme’s face had brightened at the thought of them actually burying the hatchet and he didn’t have the heart to let her down.

So here he is. Just shy of ten in the morning. Following behind his already inebriated mother in law. He remembers those days; drunk off his ass by noon hour. Back then it hadn’t mattered; he’d had fuck all to live for and was very close to just putting a bullet in his own head. Now when he thinks back on it, he realizes just how pathetic it was. And he’s determined to never get that far into the booze again.

“Do you want a drink?” she asks, as she motions for him to sit down at the kitchen table. It’s cluttered; days worth of newspapers and unopened bills. The counters are in a similar state; a sink full of unwashed dishes and empty and half empty bottles of liquor and wine littering every available space.

“It’s ten in the morning,” Tyler points out, and he removes his sunglasses from his eyes and his cell phone from his pocket and places both on the table. “Don’t you think it’s a little too early for that?”

She ignores him and moves to pour herself another drink, then starts up the coffee maker.

“Where’s Sarge?”

Everyone calls Esme’s stepfather that. When they’d first met, he’d attempted to call man by his first name and was quickly corrected. He was a good guy, tall and broad with a head full of thick white hair and a handlebar moustache. Posture rigid and proud as if he were still serving in the military.  And other than Esme’s younger sister Lyla, he’d been the only one that had welcomed Tyler into their family with open arms.

“On one of his boy trips to Vegas,” she sighs.  “And we all know what goes on in Vegas.”

Tyler has never been there himself, but according to Esme, it means that her stepdad and the boys go around fucking random women and spending their money on three things: booze, gambling, and strippers.

“We’re having troubles,” she admits.

“Sorry to hear that.”

He’s not really. Far from it. There’s a feeling of vindication that surges through him at the mere thought that the woman who’d been badgering her daughter about her decision to stay in Australia with some ‘random fuck’ (as her mother called him), was now being served a nice dose of karma. That all those times she’s been on Esme’s ass about an unwanted and unplanned first pregnancy and a hasty marriage, were coming back to haunt her.

He wants to ask her how that slice of ‘shut the fuck up pie’ tastes. But he doesn’t. Reminding himself yet again that he’s there for his wife and his kids. To be the bigger person. To make the visits and the holidays at least tolerable.

“Black, no sugar, right?” she inquires, pausing before pouring the fresh brew into a mug.

“Yeah. Thanks,” he manages a small pleasant smile in appreciation and accepts the drink as she slips into the chair across from him.  

The next few minutes pass by excruciating slow; no sound other than the soft hum of the fridge and slight dripping off the kitchen tap. And she nurses her drink while he runs his palm along the side of the porcelain mug, then taps it against the side, wedding band making a soft clinking noise.  

“What am I..” he attempts.

“So I guess…” she speaks at the same time, then laughs. “You go ahead.”

“It’s your home.”

“Visitors first,” she insists.

“I was just going to ask what I’m doing here. I’m normally the last person you like to see darkening your doorstep. I was surprised when you called.”

“I thought that you and I needed to have a chat.”

“About?”

“My daughter, mostly.”

He nods. “You mean, my wife.”

There was no need to say it. It was petty as fuck and Tyler knows it. But there’s a sense of satisfaction at seeing the way that it bothers the woman. She can’t handle the fact that that’s exactly what he is.  Her daughter’s husband. The father of her grandkids. Five years and counting and she can’t accept him.  He’s still a stranger to her. That random guy that had talked her daughter into his bed and never let her leave.

“I know your secret you know,” her eyes are narrowed as she regards him.

He cocks his head to the side, smirk tugging at his lips. “You do, do you? And what secret is that?”

“I know what you’re up to. I know why you go away so much. Why you’re gone for so long.”

He doubted it. But why not play along and see where it goes.

“And why’s that?” he asks. “Why do I go away so much?”

“It isn’t for a job. No one travels that much for a job.  It’s women. Other women. Not just one. Many. All over the damn place.”

At first, he just stares at her. Trying to even comprehend the nonsense that is coming out of her mouth. He’s made a lot of stupid decisions in his life and has been a complete and utter asshole while both drunk and sober, but one thing he wasn’t was a cheater. And it wasn’t for the lack of temptation. He simply isn’t that kind of guy. The second he decided to pop the question, that was it. There would be no other women after her. Ever.

Finally he throws his head back and laughs. The mere idea so ridiculous that he can’t help himself.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he agrees. “I have other women all over the world. I even have another family back in Australia. Eight kids. Your daughter knows all about them.”

She frowns. “You can laugh all you want. But I know it’s true.”

“You don’t know shit. There are no other women. There haven’t been any other women since I met your daughter. I would never, ever cheat on Esme.”

“I know men like you,” she growls.

“Men like me? What kind of man am I?”

“Just look at you. You just look the type. The good looks and the muscles and…”

“Are you trying to pick me up? Because I hate to sound like an asshole, but you’re not my type. And I’m not into a whole mother-daughter thing, so…”

“How many are there?” she presses. “How many other women are there?”

“You’re actually being serious about this? You really think I’m cheating on your daughter?”

“I know you are.”

“Like I said already, you know shit. I am not cheating on your daughter. I will never cheat on your daughter. She’s my wife. The mother of my children. The last thing I would ever do is hurt her like that. I’d put a bullet in my brain before I’d ever hurt her. Or my kids. There are no other women. There’s only her. I only want her. For the rest of my life.”

She stares at him.

“I love your daughter. More than I ever thought I could love someone. She’s my entire existence. Her and my kids. So don’t sit here and insult me. I don’t cheat. I’m not your husband.”

She blinks at the harsh truth dumped in her lap.

“I know you hate me. I know you think I took your daughter away from you.”

“You did.”

“But she chose to stay. When I was in the hospital, she was the one that chose to stick around. I didn’t even expect her to be there when I woke up. But she was. And you know what? That was the happiest fucking moment in my life when I opened my eyes and she was sitting there.  Imagine almost dying and when you come to, that is the first thing you see? Someone that beautiful at your bedside?  You have no idea what that felt like. To see her there. And to know she chose to be there.”

“She’s loyal,” her mother agrees. “To a fault.”

“Maybe. But she’s also the most incredible woman I’ve ever met. And an amazing mother. You don’t see her with those kids. How she is with them. She puts everything she has into raising them. She tries every day to be a better person, a better mother for them. Probably because she never had that herself.”

“Excuse me, but what…”

“Don’t bullshit yourself. You know it’s the truth. You’ve spent the past thirty-five years shitting all over her. Making her feel horrible about herself, making her feel as if she doesn’t measure up, that she disappointed you. You even stayed friends with her ex husband. Who’s a fucking coward that likes to abuse women. You don’t hate me because I took your daughter away. You hate me because I’m the only one that’s ever defended her. Because you know you can’t manipulate me.”

She gives a small snort and takes a large gulp of her drink.

“I gave her the chance,” Tyler continues. “After I woke up in the hospital and before anything went further between us. I told her that she could leave. That she didn’t have to stick around. That she didn’t have to feel obligated to be there. And you know what she did? She told me she loved me. And it didn’t even matter that I didn’t say it back right away. She was sticking around. I didn’t force her to be there. Regardless of what you think.”

“You got her pregnant,” she hisses. “Of course she’d stay.”

“We didn’t know about the baby before I told her she could leave. That was three weeks later. And no, it wasn’t planned. We should have been more careful. But Esme gave me a beautiful daughter. Millie is beautiful and she’s smart and she’s caring and she’s everything that’s good about me and everything that’s good about Esme all rolled into one. She wasn’t planned, but she wasn’t unwanted. She’s your granddaughter. How can you look at her and think she was an accident? How the fuck can you honestly think that?”

“I never said she was an accident.”

“You were drunk last Christmas and told her to her face that her mommy and daddy made a mistake and that’s why she’s here. She was four years old. You broke her heart. A little girl. And not just any little girl. My little girl. That’s pretty fucked up and I probably should have let your daughter beat your ass when she wanted to. But I didn’t.”

“I was drinking. If I’d been sober..”

“Please. You’ve said some pretty messed up shit about your own kid when you’ve been sober so don’t play that shit with me. You really want to know where I go and why I’m gone for so long? How I ended up in the hospital all torn up to shit?  You really want to know?”

She stares at him.

“Because I’ll tell you. I will tell you the honest to God’s truth if you want to know. You won’t like what you’ll hear, but I will tell you. Is that what you want?”

She nods.

****

He takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Clears his throat noisily.  “I’m a mercenary,” he says, and he watches the way her eyes widen and her brows shoot up.  “I was a mercenary when I met Esme. It’s how we met. She was involved with the same people I worked for. That I still work for.”

“What?” she laughs incredulously. “Esme? My Esme?”

“She was an intel person. She was the one that would that go into a place and trick people into telling her everything that we needed to know. Names, places. That sort of thing.  And she was good at it. No, she was fucking great at it. And that’s how we met. My boss put us together and sent us to Bangladesh. Dhaka.”

She swallows the remains of her drink, then gets up to pour another.

“We were sent there because one drug lord took another drug lord’s kid and my boss was having a hard time getting information. So we had to pretend that we were married. Newlyweds doing missionary work. She was there to get the info, I was there to protect her. After that, I was the one in charge of getting the kid out.”

“Ovi.” It’s a statement. Not a question.

Tyler nods. “Things went to shit. Everything blew up in our face. I almost died. On a bridge there. When I was shot in the throat. There were other injuries too. Tons of them. It’s how I ended up in the hospital for as long as I was.  I was this close…” he holds his thumb and forefinger a hairs width apart. “…to dying on that bridge. And the only reason I didn’t? The only thing that kept me hanging on? Your daughter. So don’t you ever question my love or my loyalty to her ever again.”

She leans back in her chair, hands tightly clasping her drink.

“That’s a lot to hear, I know. But it’s the truth. That’s what happened. That’s who I am. Who I really am. I get sent places to help people. I get paid to go into god awful shitty messes to fix things. And sometimes, things go wrong and I get the shit kicked out of me. Or I get stabbed. Or shot. But I always come home. To my wife and my kids. So no…” he sips his coffee. “…I am not cheating on your daughter. Although right now I bet you wish I was instead of hearing all this other crap.”

Silence. Even longer and more tedious than the first one. And he sits back in his chair and slowly sips the coffee.  Waiting for her to finally come to terms with all the information that she’s just been given.

“But why?” she asks at last. “After everything you went through…after almost dying…why would you still do it?”

“Because the money is good,” he admits. “And I’m good at it. Damn good. It’s what I do.”

“Well that’s pretty fucking selfish don’t you think? A job like that when you have a wife and kids at home?”

“Maybe. But your daughter accepts it. She supports me. I do what I have to do for my family. Even if it means killing people.”

“And Esme is okay with that? With you…killing people?”

“Your daughter was in the Marines. She specialized in weapons and ammunition. You really don’t think her hands are entirely clean, do you?”

“No…I just…I…” she stumbles over her words. “…I guess I never thought about what she was actually doing when she was overseas. And now you’re telling me she was a mercenary and…”

“She wasn’t. That wasn’t her job. Her job was to gather intel. That’s it.”

“It’s your job to kill people.”

“I kill them if I have to. Sometimes there’s no other choice.”

“But what about your children? What do you tell them? What…?”

“They have no clue what is going on. Millie sort of does. She asked Ovi why I go away so much and what I do when I’m away. He just told her that I help people get away from bad guys. They’re young. They don’t need to know anything more than that. And I hope you can respect that. That you can respect your daughter enough not to say anything. To them. To anyone.”

“I can’t even wrap my head around all of this,” she admits. “This is all just so crazy. I’m sitting across the table from a killer. A hired killer.”

“I don’t just kill people. That’s not all there is to it. It just has to happen sometimes. I’m asking you for a favour here. I’m asking you not to say anything to the kids. To anyone else in the family. This goes no further than the two of us. The less people who know, the better. Trust me.”

“I won’t breathe a word of this to anyone,” she promises. “And even if I did, no one would believe me. This is just all so…insane.”

“It’s wee bit crazy,” he agrees, and then checks his cell phone as it vibrates against the table.  

“Esme?”

“Yeah, the kids always get her to send me pictures,” he smiles at the one currently on the screen: the twins helping feed the chickens.  And he holds the cell out, screen towards her. “They like to help. They love being outside. Love to help their mom out.”

For a few minutes they’re able to put their differences aside -and she’s able to forget about the booze- as he shows her the various, most recent pictures in his room. Including the one that Esme had sent him of himself, Millie, and the twins sleeping on the hammock.

“Do you ever think about taking them to your home?” she asks curiously. “You’re home, home. Where you’re from.”

“Sometimes I think about it, I guess. About how much they’d like it. All the beaches and the water. And it would be nice to take them. At least for a visit. Just to let them see where I grew up. Maybe even meet their grandfather. That’s up in the air. He isn’t exactly the grandfather type. He wasn’t even the father type, so it shouldn’t surprise me that grandkids aren’t important to him.”

“Esme said that they two of you aren’t close. That’s sad.”

“It is what it is. We haven’t been close in a long time. Since my mother died. Even before then things weren’t great. He was there, but he wasn’t there at the same time. Esme’s told me a lot about her father. They were very close.”

“Very,” she confirms. “She was a daddy’s girl. Daddy could do no wrong in her eyes. They were always together. He was always right by her side, supporting her every step of that way. He would have been proud of her. For joining the Corps. He would have been so proud,” she clears her throat noisily as tears threaten. “He was a good man. A fantastic man. And a big piece of her died when he did.  She was never the same. Never happy. Rarely smiled or laughed. That changed when you came along.”

“It’s all I want. For her to be happy. To make her happy.”

“I saw it right away. That first night when the two of you got to Colorado. She was tired and she was hurting but she was happy. Every time she looked at you, every time you smiled at her, the way you spoke to her. I knew that you made her happy. And I could tell that she made you happy as well.”

“She does. She came into my life when I didn’t have anything to live for. She gave me a reason to keep going. Now I have four other reasons.”

She smiles at that.

“There is nothing I wouldn’t do for your daughter,” he says. “Or your grandkids. You can hate me all you want, but they’re my family. My entire world. And I love your daughter. More than I could ever tell you. More than I could ever tell her, actually.”

She reaches out and lays her hand over his. The first display of genuine affection he’s received from her in five years.

“You’re good for her,” she says. “And I hope she’s just as good for you.”

“She is. In so many ways. I don’t know what happened between the two of you. Why the two of you stopped being close. But your daughter deserves that again. She may be a mom now, but she deserves to have a mom, too.”

She nods slowly, considering his words.

***

He stays for an hour. Helping her clean up the mess in the house. Fixing lose cabinets and changing burnt out lightbulbs and helping take things down to the basement for storage. They talk; she tells him stories from Esme’s childhood, he shares tales of growing up in Australia.  Afterwards she walks him out to the car, and the hug she gives this time is genuine.

“Please take care of them. My daughter. My grandkids. That’s all I ask. Just take care of them.”

“I will. I promise.”

“And don’t hurt my daughter. She trusts you. Don’t make her regret that.”

“I won’t. You don’t have to worry about that. I love her too much to hurt her.”

Tears sparkle in her eyes. “Thank you. For loving her as much as you. And for giving me those beautiful grandbabies.”

He smiles, and then gives her a hug of his own.

“And be careful,” she adds, as he climbs into the SUV. “When you’re out there. Just be careful. Be safe.”

“I always am.”

She reaches out and pats him on the cheek affectionately. Motherly. Then steps back as he shuts the door, guns the ignition, and drives away.

[chickensarentcheap]

I Found

Chapter 5

Sorry this is so long. But it made no sense to split it up.  I promised @c-a-v-a-l-r-y som Ovi and I didn’t want to let her down ;)   also tagging @alievans007 and @hemmyworthy

“I've got a bone to pick with you,” he says to Ovi three hours later.  It was a conversation that would be best done in private, but with thousands of miles and countless hours separating them, face time was the next best thing.  “A big fucking bone.”

The kid looks good. Taller. Muscled. More mature in the face.  It is surprising how someone can change in the course of just a year.

“What did I do?” Ovi laments. “I didn't do anything.”

“Cut the shit, kid. You know what you did. What was the first thing I told you? When Esme gave you her email and her cell number?”

“To make sure that I didn't accidentally send her anything dirty off the internet. And to make sure none of my friends got my phone and sent her dick pics.”

“Okay. What was the second thing I told you then? Do you remember? The second and more important thing.”

His brow furrows as he strains to remember.  Then his eyes widen when he realizes his mistake.

“Yeah, you got it now, don't you, mate.  You figured it out.  I specifically told you not to message her about serious shit. That if you got any chatter about bullshit going on over there that you were to get a hold of me. Not her. So why the fuck up?”

“I don't know,” Ovi laments. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't know why I did it. I just did. I didn't mean to. It just happens.”

“That's the kind of bullshit excuse guys make when they fuck someone else or knock someone up.”

The kid frowns. “What?”

“Never mind. Point is, you opened a whole can of worms over here, mate. You really stirred the shit pot. Can you guess what happened? Can you just guess?”

“You got into a fight?”

“You're damn right we did. And this wasn't your normal fight about leaving the seat on the shitter up or leaving dirty socks on the bedroom floor or drinking the last of the milk straight out of the carton. This was the kind of shit show that happens when your girl asks you if she looks fat in what she's wearing and you say the wrong thing. This was almost months...if not years...of me sleeping on the couch, kid.  And I'm sorry but I kind of like sharing a  bed with my wife. You're lucky I can't reach through this thing and strangle the ever loving shit out of you.”

“I'm glad you can't. That ending would not be good.”

“No. It wouldn't.  You really freaked her out, kid. She's fifty shades of fucked over here. And not fucked in the fun way. Her nerves are all over the bloody place now. She's freaking the hell out. And I'm the one that has to do battle against that demon. Not the particular hill I want to die on.”

“Die? Why would you die? She's going to kill you? I don't want her to kill you because of me. Let me talk to her. Let me...”

“It's a bloody saying, mate. But with the state of the things over here, she just may smother me in my sleep or poison my food.  I know you didn't mean to do it, but fuck mate, what a goddamn mess.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause trouble. I just thought...I don't know...I just thought maybe it was better to talk to her.  So you wouldn't get upset with me.”

“So I get upset with her instead? Well played, kid. Well played. Don't let it happen again, okay? You come to me. If it is shit like this. She doesn't need it. She's got enough shit to deal with. Don't add to her plate.”

“I'll call her. To apologize.”

“Just leave her alone for now. Let her come to grip with things. It's not a good time right now. She's not in a good place. So do me a favour and just hold off, okay?”

“Okay. I really am sorry, Tyler. I didn't mean to cause trouble. I just thought maybe she could help so I wouldn't have to come to you. Please don't hate me.”

“I could never hate you, mate. You know that. So what's up? What's going on? I only got so much out of her before shit hit the fan.”

Ovi delves into a tale of increasingly suspicious and frightening behaviour.  What started out as simple hang ups on his cell and home line had someone transformed into dead animals left at the front door,  graphic images sent to his email of dead bodies blown apart by bullets, warnings to watch his back when he was out on the street; that he better have eyes on the back of his head. And within the last two days  things had really stepped up: extremely vivid descriptions of how and where he would meet his untimely demise.

“Let me guess,” Tyler says. “The bridge.”

Ovi nods.  He looks as if he may cry. Or throw up. Or both.

“Mother fuckers,” Tyler mutters, and rakes a hand through his hair. “Did you tell the guys watching you all this? What did they say?”

“They said to just ignore it. That it was probably just someone playing a sick joke.”

“Rookies. You always take this shit seriously. Did you call Nik?”

“She's the one who told me to call you. But I got scared and I called Esme instead.”

“Scared of me? Why?”

“You get so angry. You get so angry and you said the doctor said you're going through a lot of stuff and...”

“Yeah my brain's mighty fucked up but that doesn't mean you keep shit from me.   There's nothing I wouldn't do for you, kid. You should know that by now. Outside of this, how are things going? How's school? What about the cute girl that you said you've been checking out for a while?”

Ovi is clearly relieved with the change in conversations. And he willingly and happily dives into tales of both his school exploits and his social life. The kid's become the hell of a story teller since coming out of his shell'; leaving no stone unturned, no details (even the most trivial out). And his face is content and his voice animated and it's almost enough for Tyler to forget about the shit the kid is dealing with. Alone, without the protection and the guidance of his father, with nothing more than servants, maids, and bodyguards to give him necessary human contact and care. It's a shit life. Sure, the money was great. And everything that came with having that kind of money. But how do you live day in and day out knowing what kind of prick your old man is? Knowing he's responsible for putting drugs out onto the streets and into the hands of vulnerable kids? Always having it on your mind that he was capable of killing another person?

That last part hits hard. He was that man. He was more than capable of taking a life. He'd shown it hundreds of times. And he wonders if he'll ever tell his daughter about that side of him. About his mercenary days.  And how she would react to the news. It would suck coming from someone else, he supposed. Honesty was the policy. But how to tell your kids about something like that without totally fucking them up? Without them hating you?

That last part is a brutal kick in the nuts.  The thought of his daughter hating of...thinking less of him...well it fucking kills him. And he briefly closes his eyes and struggles to get that thought of his mind.

“Tyler?” Ovi's voice. “Are you okay?”

He gives a reassuring smile. “I'm fine mate. Just a killer headache. It's been a long day.  So there's nothing on the girl front? You haven't made your move yet? What's wrong with you?”

“I'm nervous,” he laments. “I don't know what to say to her.”

“I'm going to have to give you some pointers when I get there. Light a fire under your ass.”

“You're coming? Here?”

“Looks like it. But there's a lot to work out. I've got to get a hold of Nik and make some arrangements.  It's going to take a few days at least. And my wife won't let me come alone...”

The kid's entire face lights up.  “All three of you are coming? I get to meet the baby?”

“I'm not making any promises, okay? There's things that Esme and I need to talk about and work out. But she's pretty adamant about not letting me go alone and I've learned to pick my battles. Do me a favour, would you? Send me those pictures you got. Did you take any photos of the shit sent to the house?”

“Of course. I do remember some things you told me.”

“Send those to me too.  What about the calls? You get any numbers?”

“All unknown numbers.”

Tyler knew it was too much to ask for things to be simple for once.

“I want you to send me anything and everything you have. And don't breathe a word of this to anyone around you, got it? Not a word. Not what's happening, not who you've been talking to. Don't even say my name. Less people know, the better. I'm still not sure if those fuckers know I'm alive or not. But let's just be on the safe side for now.”

They know, he thinks, as Ovi rambles some more about school and the girl he likes and how excited he is that he's going to be getting pointers from someone with experience. His friends know shit, after all. They're just as green and awkward as he is.  

They know I'm alive. That's the only reason for this. They're trying to get me back there. And if they know I'm alive, they'll figure out my name. And once they know my name, nothing will be able to stop them from finding out where I am. Where I live. With my wife and my child.

And suddenly, it all becomes so much more serious than he initially thought.

*****

“What are you doing?” Esme asks later, as finds him at the kitchen table, the laptop open in front of him, a pen and a pad of paper off to the side.  “Watching porn? Learning new moves? You have to write them down so you'll remember?”

“Smart ass,” he grins, and she stands behind his chair and rubs his shoulders before pressing a kiss to the top of his head. He watches as she crosses the room; the way she has to stand on her tip toes to get a coffee mug down from its shelf.  That simple movement and the stretch of her arm causing the bottom of her t-shirt to rise up. Not only revealing a slice of the tattoo that covers her entire left rib cage, but gives him a peek of that ass clad in a lacy pair of black boy shorts.

 “Don't you have any clothes of your own?” he inquires, as she pours a mug of tea from the pot she'd prepared before heading for a shower.   “I swear that's all your shit taking up the room in the closet but you're always wearing my things.”

“I like your shirts better,” she replies. “They smell like you.”

That sounds like a good enough reason as any, he supposed.

“Baby asleep?” he asks, as she slips into the chair across from him.

“Finally. She was hungry again. She is your daughter. A bottomless pit for a stomach”

“She's growing,” he reasons, a hint of sadness in his voice. “I see it every day. How much she's changing. She pays more attention now. She looks for us when we talk to her. She smiles.”

“And before long she'll be bringing her first boyfriend home and asking to go on birth control.”

His eyes narrow as he stares at her. Long and hard.

She smiles and innocently sips her tea.  

“Did your father go gray at an early age? Did you give him wrinkles? Cause him to drink excessively?”

“He had five kids altogether. I'm the second last. So he was already a wrinkly, gray haired, borderline alcoholic before I came along. And you know why ? Because  had three boys before me.”

“Yeah, I'm sure that is exactly what caused his issues. The three sons that came before the first daughter. “

“You don't know my brothers,” she reasons.

It's true.  He doesn't. They've never actually come face to face.  He's seen pictures and vice versa and he's briefly chatted with them on the phone,  but he knows very little about them. Nor do they know much about him. All they really did know was that their sister went on a 'business trip', hooked up with some random Australian, and never went back to Colorado.  He was a mystery to them; ex army, someone that travelled a lot for work,  got mixed up in some bullshit that ended up with him in the hospital and needing months of recovery. They knew his name. What he looked like. His age and where he was from.

But that's where the details stopped. Their wedding was small and secretive. She didn't tell her family there was a baby on the way until the last month arrived.  Or why she had to be 'laid off' from work. It was messy and complicated; a lot of little white lies gathering into one huge fib. But it was for their own good.

“They're bat shit insane,” she adds. “They're savages.”

“My kind of savage or...?”

“Baby, there is no one out there that is your kind of savage. They're normal savage. They're normal human beings that do normal human being things. And we're...well we're...”

“Fucked up?”

“Well I was going to say complex but you always have had  a way with words.

Leaning back in her chair, she stretches her legs out and rests her feet in his lap.  Quietly sipping her tea as his one hand disappears under the table; dragging his knuckles slowly up and down the top of her foot, then along the bottom. Slowly, methodically.  His eyes focused on that pad of paper as his right hand mindlessly scribbles and doodles.  He's hard to read; a million and one things going through that beautiful head of his. Memories of his previous life. The things he's seen. The things he's done.  Replays of conversations that they'd had today on the beach, the argument that they'd found themselves embroiled in.  And more than likely some thoughts of Ovi and what ever had happened during their behind closed doors face chat. It wasn't cause for concern when Tyler fell quiet; he was a man of few words, the strong and often silent type. It was when he grew quiet and he got THAT look.  Where his brow furrowed and his eyes darkened and he'd absentmindedly (and repeatedly) dragged his top teeth  along his bottom lip. That twas when you should worry.

“What's up?” she asks casually. This is a thin line to teeter upon. Like walking across thin ice that you can hear cracking under your feet.

“Just tired,” he replies with a small smile, tilting his head to the side and causing his hair to fall across his forehead.

His knuckles continue to brush against her foot; over each toe and down the instep before travelling onto the ankle and down onto her heel and over the bottom. In the past few months he'd become increasingly needy when it came to physical touch. Both seeking it and giving it. Not that that wasn't a welcome change. This is a man who'd had to learn what it was like to love again. And to be loved.  “It's been a long day,” he adds. “Too much sun. Always make me tired, you know that.”

She nods slowly, both hands clasped around her mug, the rim pressed against her lips.

“I'm sorry,” he says. “About our fight earlier. For some of the things I said.  I didn't mean them. I say shit when I get upset.  I lash out when I'm pissed off. Always at the people who don't deserve it. And I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that.”

“I know. But to be honest, you were pretty tame. You've said a lot worse over a lot less.”

“Maybe. But I still hate myself for doing it.  I shouldn't have snapped like I did. I just wasn't expecting it, you know? It caught me off guard.”

“It's okay,” she assures him, and rubs her toes against his stomach. “And I'm sorry too. It probably wasn't the best time or place to bring all that up.”

“To be fair, that's kind of our history. It's how we met. Letting things happen in the wrong place at the wrong time. Seems to be our go to.”

“Remind me to never tell our daughter that. We're going to have to come up with a really good story for when she asks where she came from. Do you really want to be telling her she was conceived in some flea bag motel in Dhaka while you were trying to rescue a drug dealer's son?”

“Not exactly something you want to tell your kids.  We're definitely not a love story that someone would write home about.”

“I don't know.  It's the thing movies are made of, don't you think? Two people falling in love in the midst of some crazy shit? Surviving things that would kill most mortals? I'd watch it.”

“Would there be nudity?” he teases. “I'd watch if if there was nudity.”

“If it's about us, there'd be tons of nudity,” she says with a wink, and he can't help but chuckle.  Their sex life has always been epic. Right from the very beginning.  

“And I'm sorry for bringing Austin up,” she adds, and he glances up at the mention of his son.  “I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have stooped that low.”

“You didn't stoop low.  You had a right to bring him up. I know I don't talk about him much.  And you know I don't like to talk about him. But you were right.  I do think that way. I do feel guilty at times. I feel like a shit father who is forgetting about him. Who doesn't love him anymore because I brought another kid into the world to take his place.”

“She isn't taking his place, Tyler. That isn't why she's here. She's here because two people fell in love and they made something so incredible together. There's no other reason. She's here because she's meant to be. And she's here as her own person. She isn't a replacement.”

“I know. I do. But I can't help but think that way some time. My brain is fucked up.  All those fucking pills...” he jerks his head in the direction of the microwave stand. Where a wide variety of medications prescribed in his name take up residence in a locked drawer. Pills for the pain. Pills to help him sleep. Pills for anxiety. Pills for depression. Pills for every single fucking thing under the sun. “...they fuck with my head. Some days I can't even remember what day it is.”

“That's not the pills. That's old age.”

He smirks.  “First a Viagra joke and now a crack at my age? Do you want a divorce?”

“Not particularly, no. I kind of like having you around.  I think I'll keep you.”

“Yeah? Good. Because I kind of like hanging out here.  The food's good. I get my laundry done. I get laid on a regular basis. Things could be a lot worse, I figure.”

“You mean like sleeping on the couch for the rest of your naturally born life?” she teases, and he nods in agreement. Once again they fall into a comfortable silence; no noise except for the tick of the kitchen clock, the slight drip of the tap, and the hum of the laptop's fan. “So?” she eventually asks. “What are you doing?”

Sighing heavily, he turns the laptop to face her. The screen displaying one of the photos that Ovi had sent him: a headless cat with its blood smeared on the front door.

She grimaces. “I won't lie. I wish it was porn you'd been watching.”

“Ovi sent me these. And a whole bunch of others. Just weird and creepy shit for the most part. But whoever is doing this isn't messing around. It's all very deliberate.”

“You don't think they're just trying to scare him.”

“This goes above and beyond just trying to scare someone. This is bonafide psychotic bullshit. Whoever is doing this, they're after him. They're sincere with their threats. They're too invested in this. It's not just some passing fancy or some kid doing shit because they think it makes them look cool. This is the real deal. This is scary shit.”

“So he's definitely in danger.”

“No doubt in my mind. Maybe if it just went as far as the hang ups and the pictures, I'd say it's just someone fucking around. But the dead animals? The threats? The letters? That shit is very real.”

“Someone attached to Asif? Or even someone pissed off at Ovi's father?”

“This is definitely someone that's pissed off that Ovi got away and Asif died. Don't get me wrong; Nik had every reason to shoot him in the fucking head. But it is coming back to bite us all in the ass.”

She nods slowly, considering his words. “What's this?” she inquires, as she leans forward and picks up the note pad.

“Just some research I've been doing. Names mostly.”

Her eyes study what he has scrawled, eyes narrowing at one particular name.  “Farhad? That one sounds familiar.”

“It should. That's the little fucker that shot me in the neck and nearly killed me.”

“Hmmm...” she traces a finger over each letter, as if committing it to memory. “...no last name.”

“None that any of my contacts could come up with.  I'm sure I'll be able to find him if I put some feelers out.”

“Why would you want to? To kill him?”

“To talk to him. He's probably behind this bullshit. Why would you say kill him right off the hop like that?”

“Well, I wouldn't exactly blame you if you wanted to kill him,” she reasons. “Or if you did kill him. I think it's a reasonable response considering he almost killed you.”

“I'm not out for revenge. I'm out to help Ovi. This isn't about me.”

“But revenge isn't always a bad thing,” she gently argues. “And I think in this case...in our case...it's the only natural response.”

Tyler frowns. “He's a kid.”

“That shot you in the neck.”

“He's still a kid.”

“Why does that matter? Look at what he did.”

“He was only doing it to impress some drug lord dick head.  Now he's probably up to shit thinking he's big and bad because he did supposedly kill me.  But he's still a kid. A fucked up kid. But still a kid.”

“A kid that tried to fucking kill you!” she snaps, and he blinks at the anger in her voice.  It's the first time she's ever truly snapped at him. Not the little flip outs she has when she has to tell him twenty times to do something or when she's tired and he's getting on her last damn nerve. This was different. This was rage. Vehemence. And those were the eyes of a woman possessed.

A woman out for blood.

“Well he didn't succeed did he? I'm still here. It's water under the bridge.”

“The bridge. The fucking bridge! Always the fucking bridge!”

“The bridge? What the fuck...?”

“The bridge! The bridge where he shot you! The bridge where you almost fucking died! I was on that bridge too! I was the one that held you when you were dying. I was the one that had your blood all over me. I was on that fucking bridge too, Tyler!”

“I know,” he rubs and squeezes her foot in an attempt to settle her down.  “I know you were.  But just calm down and...”

“Don't you fucking tell me to calm down,” she snaps, and yanking her foot out of his lap, pushes her chair away and jumps up with so much force that it nearly topples over.  “Don't you do that. Don't you act like my feelings aren't valid!”

“I wasn't. That's not what I was trying to do. I know you were there. I know what you saw. And I wish every day it never came down to that. That you never had to see that. But I can't go back and change it. Didn't you say that to me today? That I can't go  back in the past and change how I did things?  This is the same thing.”

“No. It's not. It's the same damn thing at all! Don't you dare try and downplay this.”

“Esme...settle down...just take a breath...take a breath and let's talk about this calmly. Reasonably. Please...” he reaches for her and she slaps his hands away. “I'm not the enemy here, love. I'm not the bad guy. Don't push me away. You've been trying to do that for almost a year now. And I haven't gone anywhere yet.”

“How can you just sit there and be so calm about this?” she snags the pad of paper. “How can you act like this doesn't matter any more? That this name...this fucking name!...doesn't mean anything to you.”

“Because it doesn't. He isn't the first person that has tried to kill me.  And he probably won't be the last.”

“Jesus Christ, Tyler. Are you really trying to normalize this?”

“It's the nature of the beast. All part of the job. You knew that when Nik dragged you into this. You really think he's the first asshole to try and kill me?”

“He's the first asshole that's tried to kill you right in front of me!”

Sighing, he runs his hands over his hair and through his hair and then leads back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest. “Maybe you should stay behind. Maybe it's better if you and the baby stay here.”

She stares at him incredulously.  “You have got to be kidding me.”

“If shit hits the fan, which it probably will, it's probably best if you're not there. You went through it once. You don't need to see something like that again.”

“So you just wander off like you're fucking John Rambo and I stay with our baby...your baby...while you get killed?”

“What is this obsession with me getting killed? Do you really have that little faith in me?”

“Oh don't you play that card with me. I'm the only one around here that has had faith in you.”

“Then what the fuck is going on? What is happening right now? Because I honestly have no idea.”

“You're not a stupid man, Tyler Rake.”

“Well I must be because I have no fucking clue what you're going on about.”

“You almost died. You're not just some random of the street. Not some guy I was just randomly fucking. You're my husband. The father of my child. And you have the gall to ask me why I'm so upset? Oh I don't know Tyler. Maybe I'm upset that I saw you get shot in the neck and you were bleeding out all over me. Maybe that has something to do with it, do you think?”

“Okay settle down. Just settle down. Before you say something totally stupid you'll regret. I get it. I do. But you've got to let it go.”

“I'm never going to let this go. Not until this piece of shit...” she tosses the pad down onto the table. “...is lying dead in the street. I want revenge. You deserve that.”

“I don't want that. We got revenge when Nik killed Asif. Isn't that enough?”

“No. It's not. It won't be enough until that little bastard is stone cold dead and in hell where he belongs.”

And with that, she storms out of the room.