Page 49 of Fight for Me

I whirl on him and smile excitedly. “Shut up! You did not! Brody, that is so wonderful,” I gush and step further inside to inspect everything closely.

“Glad you approve. I made some of the furniture too,” he says and watches me as I run my hand over the surface of the table, then clears his throat, and looks down at the sleeping baby he still cradles. “I don’t think I ever saw a baby that would sleep like that. The kid is totally dead to the world. I think I got him a little wet from my shirt, do you have some change of clothes for him in the bag?”

“Yeah, is there a place where I can change him? Or...”

“Come on, I’ll show you the guest room. I can bring something for you to change in too. You need to get out of those wet clothes, so you won’t catch a cold. And I don’t think we will be going anywhere until the road is drivable, so you may as well get comfortable,” Brody says and climbs the stairs.

“Yeah, okay...” I murmur, trying to cast away my dirty thoughts as I follow him. Yes, we’re alone. At his house. Forced to be close by the power of nature. What could go wrong?

Oh, yeah. Henry. Aaand the fact that Brody doesn’t seem that excited about us being here. Good God, why must you put me to the test again?

CHAPTER XI

BRODY

We go upstairs, where I show Jen to the guest room, and lie down sleeping Henry on the bed. “Go ahead, make yourself at home. You can change the kid here, and then take a shower in the adjoining bathroom if you like. I will find something for you to wear in that time and leave it on the bed here for when you’re finished.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jen responds quietly, standing in the middle of the room, uncertainty written on her face. I want to think that she’s not too uncomfortable about being here alone with me.

“Hey.” I wait for her to focus on me before I continue. “I’m really sorry for dragging you both here, I thought we’ll escape the storm. I...I’m glad that you're here, though. Not only that, but I’m glad that I was right behind you... you know, with the car.” I stutter my words out like a nervous teenager and wince internally.

“Yeah, I’m glad too,” Jen responds timidly and bites her lip. We stand like that and stare at each other, the air between us charged. I’m hit again with feelings that sneak up on me more and more lately. Feelings that I won’t get a chance to explore.

Before I make an even bigger idiot out of myself or say too much, I slip out of the guestroom and go to my own bedroom. I sit on my bed with a heavy sigh and rub my neck.

“You stupid fucker,” I whisper to myself, then listen to the sound of Jen’s voice as she talks to Henry. I guess the little bugger finally woke up.

I didn’t think about how hard it would be to have them here with me. About how much more it will make me dream of the things that I have no business wanting. Like Jen. Like having Jen in my space. Loving Jen. Creating a new family with Jen.

Those are the things I can’t think of right now. Not when we’ve just reconciled. Not just weeks after she found out about her mother’s murder. And certainly not with Henry’s father still out there.

I overheard Jen’s conversation with Amelia last week, where they talked about her getting calls from that fucker. I’m not sure what’s the status there, but I won’t be putting myself on the line if there’s even the slightest chance that she’ll be back with him when he gets out. Even if that's not the case, he's probably going to be in his kid's life, as well as Jen's, and I don't know how I feel about that.

On the one hand, I get that Jen’s got a life and baggage that I would have to deal with when the time comes. If the time comes. But on the other hand, I feel possessive and jealous at the thought of having another man in her life. I know that’s fucked up, and I am not entitled to wish that she was all mine with each and every aspect of her life happening in my sphere. But I was always a tangled mess when it came to her, and I don’t think I will ever stop feeling so strongly about Jen.

I get up to get out of my wet shirt, and as usual, grimace at my reflection in the mirror next to my dresser. Here is another reason why I won’t be acting on my romantic feelings toward Jennifer. Half of my torso and a large part of my right shoulder is now covered in uneven, ugly scars. I lift my hand to touch it and sigh at the unpleasantness of the bumpy skin.

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