Page 44 of Takedown

“Tell me one of them.” I lay a hand on his flat belly. He lifts it and intertwines our fingers. He kisses the back of my hand and rests our joined hands on his chest.

“I was an angry teenager. My father was never around. I have no memory of my parents together as a couple. I can count on two hands how many times I’ve seen him in my life. I didn’t understand why I was so angry until I became an adult. Back then, I didn’t know how to channel it, so I got into fights. I kicked a lot of ass. My mother didn’t know what to do or how to handle me. I started skipping school and was on a very dark path. She knew I liked to fight, so she took me down to this gym and paid for boxing lessons. I loved it. She didn’t intend for it to go as far as it did, but I was good. She begged me to stop when I got older, but I wouldn’t. It became a kind of therapy for me. It wasn’t until I broke my elbow and strained my rotator cuff that things changed. She cried and stayed at my bedside the entire time. I was told it was best for me not to pursue fighting as a career, and seeing how upset my mother was, I decided to give it up, but the anger came back; I was nineteen by then, and I was out one night, and someone started mouthing off. I tried to ignore it at first, but they said the wrong thing and I beat them to a pulp. I got arrested. He pressed charges.”

I sit up in surprise at the story. The Adam I’ve always known annoyed me, but he would never hurt a fly. The way he is with Addison is proof of his gentle nature. In the years since he’s lived here, I’ve noticed how much of a giver he is. He’s the guy who cleans the yard in the fall, shovels snow in the winter and never asks for anything back.

“I have a hard time picturing you hurting anybody,” I tell him.

“I’m not proud of it, but I was a nineteen-year-old kid with Daddy issues who didn’t know he had issues.”

“So, what happened?”

“My father sent a lawyer and made everything disappear,” he says simply.

“What happened between him and your mother?” I ask.

“I guess he wasn’t relationship material. Like I said, I don’t remember them ever being together. I think maybe a kid might have been too much for a selfish prick like him.” My heart hurts for him at the admission. “The most he could do was support me financially, but out of sight out of mind I guess.”

“Well, not only was he an asshole, but he was stupid too. He missed out on having an amazing son.” He smiles shyly at me, and I run a hand through his hair. “If he wasn’t already dead, I’d find him and beat his ass.”

He rolls his eyes but pulls me closer. “I’ll have to teach you some of the basics before you try and kick anybody’s ass.”

“The few times you did see him, how was he? Was he happy to see you?”

He shrugs and says, “I think he was excited to see my mom more than me. She’d agree to let him visit because he would say he wanted to see me, but it was his way of seeing her. He took me out for ice cream once, I think. But what about your relationship with your dad? You don’t leave when he visits.” I look into his eyes, and he smiles at me. “Whenever your mom would visit, you’d leave after a day, but that’s not the case with your dad.”

“He’s okay. We’ve gotten better. He never made me feel bad when I was growing up, but he admitted that he could have done more as a father and that he could have told Mom to fuck off. His words,” I say to him. “So, me and my dad are good.”

“Have you told him about us yet?”

“I’m going to tell him tomorrow. He’s not judgmental like my mom, so he’ll be fine.”

23

Mel talks some more about her dad and asks me more about mine, but I manage to change the subject before she can delve further about my father. He’s not someone I ever talk about, and the people who are close to me know never to bring him up.

I avoid thinking about him at all costs, but these daily phone calls keep him in my thoughts. Lately, every time I look in the mirror, I think of him and wish I inherited my looks from my mom’s side, but I didn’t. From my dark hair to the blue eyes to my height. There’s no denying that I’m his son. The one he didn’t want and hid. The one he never bothered to get to know.

I shake my head and do my best to clear it of things I can’t change. I decide to focus on my wife instead because our relationship is something I’m hoping to change. That bullshit I told her about giving our marriage a year was just that. Bullshit. There’s no way I’m letting her go after a year. Not even after a thousand years.

“What do you think?” She shoves the laptop in my face. “It won’t be too expensive. Just some food, drinks, and a few friends. That amount,” she says, pointing her index finger at the bottom of the screen, “is just an estimate, but I’m pretty sure I can keep it close. And I won’t use the credit card. I can pay for this.”

“From the emergency or secret savings?” I do my best to hide my smile but fail.

“Neither,” she huffs. “I would never dip into my savings for a party,” she says, aghast at the very thought. “And you shouldn’t either. Please tell me—"

I slam the laptop shut and put it on the nightstand, cutting off whatever she was going to say. I lay flat on my back and pull her on top of my hardening dick.

“You have the credit card. Use it. I mean it. I promise I’m not going to be in financial ruin if you buy stuff.” She opens her mouth to argue with me, but I kiss her until she’s breathless. “Just kiss your husband, Mrs. Flynn.” I kiss her again and all thoughts about money must leave her mind because she kisses me back.

I skipped my afternoon session at the gym and rushed home as soon as school let out. Tomorrow might be a late day. I need to finalize the spring sports and need to figure out what I’m going to coach, but all of that can wait because I promised Mel I’d come home to help with the new furniture.

When I open the front door to the house, I can hear voices and movement upstairs. Just as I take the stairs, I hear laughter. Hers mixed with a male. I barge through the door, but I don’t see my wife. What I do find is a tall black man standing in the middle of my living room. He’s so engrossed in what he’s looking at that he doesn’t see me. I walk closer and follow his line of vision.

I drop my bag on the floor with a loud thud, but he still hasn’t noticed me. Mel has the fridge door open, and she’s bending down. She’s in black yoga pants and an orange sweatshirt, but the shirt rides up, revealing the smooth skin of her lower back.

When she straightens, she comes back with two bottles of water and a smile on her face. That’s when I hear a door down the hall open and another man comes out. This one is short with a belly the shape of a basketball.

“Here you go,” Mel says, handing each of them a bottle of water. She sees me and smiles, but I don’t smile back. I walk over and kiss her so deep, so indecent, I know she’ll be blushing when I pull away.

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