Page 55 of Breakaway

“You don’t owe us a damn thing,” Raiden voices gruffly.

“Language,” Briggs scolds, slapping our resident detective across the chest with the back of his hand. He glares while rubbing the ache away, but there’s no retaliatory strike, so I’d consider that an improvement.

“Um, hello?” Dayton gripes. I glance in his direction, widening my eyes in mock confusion. “Where the hell is my kiss?” He swirls his finger at his cheek expectantly.

“I guess you don’t get one,” I tease impishly, but I should’ve known better.

“That’s okay,” Dayton concedes, then causes my heart to plummet when he adds, “I got one the other night, remember? I can wait my turn again.” His smug grin makes my eye twitch. I can feel three distinct gazes boring into me, so I turn on my heel and head for the playground. It’s thankfully empty, so I take my time walking to each piece of equipment, allowing Hudson to explore as much as he’d like. He’s nearly worked up the courage to test out the sandbox when Briggs swoops in and snags him off his feet. Hudson squeals, but I can’t decipher if it’s rooted in fear or something else.

“What the hell, Briggs?” I question heatedly.

“Absolutely not.” He shivers in disgust. “That thing is practically a gigantic litter box for stray cats.” My nose scrunches at the imagery. “If Huddy wants to play in some sand, we’ll set one up at the firehouse with a lid to keep it nice and clean.” I smile at Briggs’ thoughtfulness, watching in awe as he expertly coaxes Hudson to climb the jungle gym. I couldn’t tell you how long I watch the two of them repeatedly go down the slide together, but eventually, Hudson begins to smile, grabbing Briggs by the hand and urging him up the steps so they can repeat the process.

“So,” Colsen starts, coming to a stop beside me.

“Nope.” I shake my head, knowing exactly where he’s going with his seemingly innocent small talk. “I’m not discussing it right now. If ever. Today is meant for celebrating, so that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

“Fair enough,” he agrees, hands tucked in his pockets as he watches Briggs and Hudson. At a glance, he appears nonplussed by my refusal to engage in a conversation regarding our evolving relationships, but the occasional tick of his jaw leads me to believe he isn’t as unbothered as he’s trying to make it seem. The last thing I want is to cause a rift between friends who’ve known each other as long as they have. Their loyalty should lie with one another, not me.

“I’m so proud of you, minha luz,” Raiden whispers, flanking my other side. “You’re far more capable than you give yourself credit for, and I hope today has given you a glimpse of how true that is.” I can’t look at him or I’ll start crying and might never stop, so I take his hand instead, squeezing tightly so he knows I heard him. That I’m listening and trying my hardest to peel back the layers of self-doubt Tobias made sure to leave me with.

“Oh, hell no,” Dayton grumbles, stomping past us. My eyes quickly track his direction of travel, finding Briggs and Hudson testing out the swingset. “Like hell is that asshole going to become the favorite.” I laugh, watching as two grown men start to shove one another, vying to be the one who gets to push Hudson on the swing he’s claimed.

Raiden’s fingers tighten around mine, the two of us sharing a look that encompasses a gamut of emotions. Today has been perfect, and I intend to savor every second of it, not just that singular moment Doreen insisted I lock away for safekeeping. I reach for Colsen’s hand, needing his touch as much as I need Raiden’s, stealing a few seconds to be selfish and daydream about a scenario that could never exist in the real world.

We stay at the park a little while longer, laughing at the antics of Briggs and Dayton, who seem to have come to a temporary truce while in the presence of Hudson. They spend the vast majority of the afternoon trying to pry a laugh out of the tiny toddler, to no avail. But the few smiles he gives us make it feel like we’ve won the lottery. We end the day at an ice cream parlor, happy to give Hudson as many scoops as he wants.

Later that evening, when Colsen lifts his sleeping body from the car seat, his face and fingers still sticky, I hope we’re granted the opportunity to make a million more memories. And for the first time, I admit to myself that I want our future to include the guys as well. I’m just not sure it’s possible when my feelings toward each of them grow exponentially with every new facet I learn about them. I could never choose, so it’s best to leave that side of us unexplored. I doubt we could cross a line that damning and simply revert to being friends.

32

Andilyn

My first thought when we step into the cemetery three days later is that it’s unseasonably warm today. The weather doesn’t fit the mood. The sun sits high in the sky, not a cloud in sight. Only the eight of us dressed in black are a reflection of the somberness blanketing our cordoned-off section of the graveyard. Even though Hudson is far too young to remember this, I felt it imperative that he was present to lay his father to rest. Given the circumstances around Seth’s death, there’s no fanfare, but those closest to him insisted on being here today, and I couldn’t deny them the opportunity to say goodbye.

A total of six men have joined us, their postures rigid as they stand opposite us in their Army dress uniforms. Their faces are wiped of any emotion, a trait they’ve likely been trained to embody when the situation warrants it. They showed up early to drape an American flag over Seth’s coffin, then stoically carried him to his final resting place. A random priest was chosen to preside over the ceremony, but it can hardly be called that with how short and to the point it is. Seth left clear instructions, and he wanted this part to be over with as quickly as possible.

We each take turns speaking to Seth privately, and when the others have all gone and only I remain, I take a cleansing breath and pass Hudson to Royce’s waiting arms. Staring at the freshly dug hole in the ground, I have a brief moment of complete disbelief. Out of all the possibilities of where life could’ve taken us, I never once imagined it would lead us here. Seth wasn’t deserving of such a brutal ending, and I wish more than anything that I could go back in time and erase all the awful things that have happened to the Taylor family. They’d still be whole if Tobias hadn’t entered their lives.

“I hope you’re at peace, Seth,” I whisper, a single tear slipping free and sliding down my cheek. “Wherever you are, I hope you’ve found LeAnna in the afterlife, and the two of you are finally together again. I promise to keep Hudson safe; I’ll do my absolute best by him. Until we meet again.” I touch my fingers to my lips, then press them against the casket. A final goodbye to the man who’s changed the entire trajectory of my life by entrusting me with his son. I can only hope I don’t fall short of his expectations. After rejoining the others, I watch with a heavy heart as two of the six service members begin intricately folding the flag. Once it’s neatly tucked into a pristine triangle, one of the soldiers begins his approach, the nameplate positioned on the right side of his chest reading Vasquez. He stops short of where Hudson is standing, his tiny hand gripping one of Dayton’s fingers, then crouches down so they’re eye to eye.

“On behalf of the President of the United States, the United States Army, and a grateful nation, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your loved one’s honorable and faithful service.” I graciously take it, knowing Hudson is far too young to understand the magnitude of what he’s being given. But I vow that we’ll always hold space for Seth and LeAnna.

It’s been sixteen days since Hudson came to live with me. The majority of our time is spent traveling back and forth to therapy sessions, since his treatment facility is roughly an hour away. Briggs is typically the one who takes us since he isn't employed, which begs the question of how he can afford to live, much less have the extra funds to self-pay my medical bills and purchase a brand-new SUV. In between our visits to Covey, we stick close to home, not wanting to become a talking point for small-town gossip.

Since I have Hudson to think about now, I’ve been more conscious about my comings and goings, much to the guys’ delight. He needs normalcy, not an overeager reporter sticking a camera in his face or plastering his picture on the internet. Things got even dicier after the murder-suicide that took place in the courtroom that day, so Raiden has been keeping a close eye on anyone who seems overly persistent. As a key witness, I couldn’t give an interview even if I wanted to, but that minor detail hasn’t stopped the vultures from circling.

These past few days have been especially difficult. My back aches more often than not, and Hudson hasn’t slept through the night once. I’d be lost without the guys, or at least more sleep-deprived than I already am. We were twenty minutes late to therapy this morning, and as I sit here in the waiting area with the other parents, I can’t help but feel like I’m an imposter. They’re chatting quietly with one another, finding comfort in sharing their struggles, and I’m still fumbling around in the dark, clueless about how to be a parent most days.

“Angel,” Briggs calls out, doing a horrendous job of keeping his voice down. He’s seated across from me, legs spread wide as he thumbs through a random subscription magazine I doubt he has much interest in. His attire doesn’t match our current environment, but the faded black jeans slung low on his hips are doing wonders for his ass, his bad boy look wreaking havoc on my lower half. I’m in a near-constant state of arousal these days, and at some point soon, something has to give. “What are you thinking about?”

My eyes track the shape of the words as they form against his lips, then slide to his neck, to the gruesome tattoo that replicates the veins and tendons that sit beneath his flesh. I quickly avert my gaze, not wanting to imagine a scenario in which Briggs would ever have his throat split open. Traveling down, my inspection hits a roadblock when the back of the magazine comes into view instead of the old band tee stretched tautly across his stomach. My brows pinch together, frustrated that my ogling has been impeded. Slowly, Briggs closes the magazine and sets it on the table. My eyes snap upward, clashing with his obsidian orbs as he raises a single brow. He settles back, casually waving his hand for me to continue my perusal.

My cheeks are blazing hot from being caught, but I’d be remiss not to finish what I started. Briggs’ abdomen is a work of art. I’ve seen it bare, so I call upon that image, absently biting my bottom lip as I imagine trailing my fingers over the divots and grooves, toying with the trail of hair that leads to the waistband of his pants. Glancing down, I see the prominent outline of his cock. I suck in a shocked breath, my gaze flying to his, then around the room to see if anyone else is privy to the eye-fucking I’ve just given him and his resulting hard-on because of it.

When I’m certain no one is paying us any attention, I turn back to Briggs, the banked heat in his expression causing me to press my thighs together. He stands abruptly, stalking forward with purpose. I don’t have time to think before he takes my hand in his and begins striding across the lobby. Only a few seconds later, he’s ushering me inside the family bathroom, the click of the lock sliding into place sounding overly loud in the sudden quiet. I stumble backward as he advances, my back hitting the porcelain sink as his arms fall to either side of me, completely caging me in.

“Fuck, Angel,” he groans, burying his face against my neck. “You can’t look at me like that and not expect me to do something about it.” A whimper escapes me when he trails the tip of his nose along my jawline, every word he utters causing his lips to brush my heated skin.