Page 51 of Fight for Me

“All right then.” I smile back. “So, how about some wine before bedtime?”

“I would love to. I’m just going to check on Henry, and I’ll be right back,” Jenny jumps off the counter, and exits the kitchen with my eyes following her ass.

Fuck. Maybe that wine isn’t a good idea.

I mentally slap myself and go looking through the cupboards for a nice bottle I know I have stored somewhere in here. Then pour two glasses and carry them to the living room just in time to see Jen coming down the stairs.

“He’s dead to the world,” she says happily and grabs the offered glass of wine before taking a small sip. She hums in appreciation and goes to look through the ginormous window I had installed to have a clear view of the surrounding nature.

“Is it normal for a kid his age to sleep so much?” I ask, truly curious.

Jen snorts and looks over her shoulder at me. “God, I wish. Henry is an early riser, and from the moment he wakes up, he’s giving me and Rita hell. Well, mainly Rita because I’m usually absent in the mornings,” she adds, looking a little sad, but then quickly shakes it off and continues. “I took him to a park this morning. He chased every duck he spotted. Poor thing wanted to give them a hug and couldn’t understand why they didn’t want his love.”

With a chuckle, I move closer to her. We watch the rain and trees swinging in the wind, drinking wine in comfortable silence for a moment, before she says almost to herself, “A patio here would be great.”

She takes one more sip of her wine, and after one final glance at the outdoors, moves further into the room to inspect the family photos I have hanging on the wall.

“You don’t talk much about your past,” she mutters, looking at the picture of a ten-years-old me between a proud-looking Ruth and her husband Frank. “Were you always living with them?”

“Hmm, no. They took me in when I was about eight. Ruth was my mother’s sister,” I tell her after coming closer to inspect the serious look on my boyish face, that I wore constantly from a young age.

“What about your parents?” Jen asks quietly.

I scratch at my neck, and sigh. “They, uh... they died in a car accident. My father was the driver. He was drunk.”

Jen gasps and turns to me. “Brody, that’s awful. I’m sorry. Where were you at the time?”

“I was with Ruth, thankfully. My parents left me with her a lot anyway, so my living situation didn’t change that drastically after they passed. I guess you could say she was raising me anyway,” I admit. “My parents liked to party, and they had me very young. I don’t think they were ready to take on such a responsibility as taking care of a child.”

Jen snorts. “That’s a lame excuse for being a shitty parent, if I ever heard one.”

I think about her story for a moment and have to agree. “You’re right. I don’t know why I feel the need to justify their neglect. Maybe age had nothing to do with it.”

“I get it. Things like that aren’t always black and white. They weren’t perfect, but they were still your parents, and you loved them despite their flaws. Their actions didn’t take away from the grief,” Jen says gruffly, her eyes filling with tears.

Without thinking, I'm lifting my arm to put it around her shoulders before hugging her to my side. “I know right now these are just words, but I promise you that it will get better. It will get easier. The pain will stay with you. The loss. But it will lessen with time.”

Jen exhales loudly before straightening to look me straight in the eyes. “I’m so glad that you’re back in my life, Brody.”

Her gaze starts moving toward my lips as something close to want appears on her face, and I swallow hard, my free hand moving instinctively toward the small of her back.

I open my mouth to say something just as thunder reverberates through the house, and I immediately step back as if electrocuted, almost tripping over my own feet.

I clear my throat and try to recover quickly, but I can already see Jenny’s face transforming into a disappointed frown because of my reaction. “How about a refill?” I point at her almost empty glass.

She looks down at the glass she’s holding with lowered eyebrows and shakes her head. “No, I... I think it’s getting late. I should probably just...” Before I can react, she pushes the wineglass into my hand, mutters a half-assed “Goodnight,” and climbs the stairs in a rush.

Her naked legs are the last thing I see before she disappears upstairs, with the sound of closing doors hitting me as if an invisible hand slapped me.

Jesus Christ, I can’t believe I almost gave in. I was seconds from kissing her sweet little mouth. Seconds from tasting her and turning the fantasy into reality. And I know I wouldn’t be able to stop. I’d be gone and going to hell for it.

It would be worth going to hell for, a small voice in my head whispers as I clear the glasses and put everything away before going to my bedroom.

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