Page 10 of Kaya's King

“Help get the truck unloaded then we’ll go from there.”

Hours later, we’re sitting down eating the subs the women made when Loki looks at me and asks, “What, exactly, is your issue with Kaya? I’ve noticed you’re short with her, act like she’s doing something wrong, that kind of thing.”

Sighing, I drop my head in my hands. “Hearing her little boy say they moved because the doctors where they used to live couldn’t fix him brought up a lot of fucked up memories from my childhood, brother. It’s got me all twisted up inside.” While I believe she’s a good mom, I’m reliving my past where because it was my mom fighting against the doctors, Tommy suffered unduly countless times. Even though I don’t know Noah all that well yet, the afternoon we spent playing his computer game solidified the fact he’s a good kid who was dealt a shitty hand.

“Well, you better untwist it because CeeCee adores her and she’s going to be living here for quite some time while he undergoes the therapies that the doctor has ordered for the little man,” Loki retorts, causing me to flip him off.

“What happened when you were a kid?” Trident asks, his eyes narrowed as he awaits my answer. He knows, hell, they all know that what I have to share will piss them off.

Which is why I’ve avoided this topic for a very long time.

Fuck, I don’t want to go there, not even with my brothers. I want to forget what my sibling and I both lived through. Years of therapy growing up enabled me to somewhat move past it and carry on living my life, it’s just with Kaya now living here, especially at the clubhouse, and Noah apparently having medical issues, everything’s slamming me in the face. Shaking my head, I reply, “Don’t wanna get into it right now, brother. I’ll do better.”

“You make sure you keep that promise, Specks,” Poseidon warns. “She’s a good woman who’s had a shit hand dealt to her. Don’t make it harder for her to live her life because of your issues.”

“Got it, Pres.” Great, now everyone’s going to be watching me to ensure I don’t blow up at her, which I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t do. Guess I’ll be spending a lot of time either in my own suite or I’ll be in my computer den just so I can avoid her, at least until I can move past the shit haunting me, which sucks because I’m drawn to her like a moth is to a flame.

Lying in my bed, I allow my thoughts to drift back tothen.Growing up wasn’t bad to start with, until my parents had my little brother, Tommy. Right off the bat, he was sickly, requiring countless hospitalizations until they finally got a diagnosis for him.

Cystic fibrosis.

While I loved my baby brother, when the doctors told my parents they’d have to create a virtual bubble in order for him to keep from getting sick, it changed my life.

No more school. No more friends. No more sports.

Granted, I had only played one year of T-ball, but found I enjoyed it tremendously and I was looking forward to the following year when I’d get to play baseball. Instead, I fell into the world of computers, playing countless hours with Tommy once he was old enough on the latest gaming system. It would’ve been easy to grow bitter at him for what his illness was costing me; instead, we bonded over our love of comic books, computers, and movies. Every time he went into the hospital, I was lonely since I wasn’t allowed to visit him due to the possibility of bringing germs into his sterile environment. We talked on the phone, of course, but it was difficult to understand him through his wheezing and coughing.

Years passed in this manner with both of us being homeschooled, watching movies, learning more aboutcomputers, and of course, trying to decimate one another in whatever game we were playing at the time.

“I sure miss the fuck out of you, Tommy,” I whisper into the darkness. “I wonder if you’d be proud of the man I’ve become, or if you’d be disappointed.”

I’d like to think he’d be thrilled I was able to go to public school for the last two years of my high school career, then directly joined the Navy after graduating and became a SEAL. “You’d probably be jealous about my bike, little bro. It’s a real pussy magnet.” Chuckling, I remember the two of us watchingGreaseand how he giggled like a little girl when the song “Greased Lightning” was played because of the line, “she’s a real pussy wagon.”

As hard as we worked today to get Kaya’s suite squared away, I should be beyond exhausted. Instead, I watch the clock change over once again while I toss and turn tangling myself into my blankets from time-to-time, then unwrapping myself from them. Briefly, I wonder if my experiences as a kid gave me PTSD since all of the memories of Tommy have roared to the surface of my mind after having met Kaya.

“Like you don’t already know you have it, you stupid fucker.” I mock myself, knowing well and good all of us have it to some degree after our last mission. Atlas’ is the worst, of course, but he was our front swimmer, so he came face-to-face with the bloated bodies of the dead, while we were involved in the rescue aspect of the mission.

Finally giving up getting any prospect of sleep, I roll out of bed, remake it to military regulations, because old habits die hard after years of servitude, then shower and dress before I head down to the kitchen to see if I can get some coffee and startmy day. I briefly wonder how Kaya’s making out with Noah and send up a prayer to the universe that she doesn’t get fucked over by the doctors they’re seeing.

CHAPTER

FOUR

Kaya

“Maneuvering Noaharound with the casts on his legs is a bit challenging,” I tell Granny. “So, it’s probably a good thing we’ll be in the clubhouse as I can ask one of the men there for some help. He’s heavy!”

Granny chuckles then replies, “We’ll figure it out, child. We always do, don’t we?”

“Yeah, Granny, we sure do. Okay, he’s calling for me so I’m going to hang up. We should be there in a few hours. I’m not sure if we’ll have to stop again or not.” I’m worried that the trip home will be more jarring for Noah than the trip here was. He’s sore and irritable.

“Don’t you worry about how long it takes. You do what needs to be done for you and Noah, just be careful coming home, and I’ll see you soon.”

Hanging up, I head to the bathroom and open the door. “Let’s get you into your chair so you can wash your hands, okay, monkey?” I ask.

He sighs. “I don’t like this, Mommy. I’m a big boy now.”

“Who has a sick hip, remember?” I flush the toilet, lift him into the chair then wheel him over to the sink so he can wash and dry his hands. Thankfully, the restaurant we stopped in after the doctor visit is wheelchair accessible, but if memory serves me, most are these days. He had his typical chicken nuggets and chocolate milk plus half of a pain pill because the process of getting the casts on has him in a bit of discomfort. The casts are removable for bathing, thank goodness, but while he’s awake and during sleep, he has to wear them.

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