9. Smitty
SMITTY
I’d come to Brooke for answers, and I was just starting to get somewhere when the screen door opened. I looked up just as the man from the fair stepped out of the house with the little girl balanced on his hip, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
She had these soft brown curls that framed her round face, and her blue eyes were shining bright, just like they’d been at the fair. One tiny fist was curled around the front of his T-shirt, and she was looking around the yard with wide, curious eyes.
The guy took one glance at Brooke before turning his attention to me. “Hey… Everything okay?”
Brooke didn’t answer. She just stood there, looking like her worst nightmare had just come true. His eyes flicked from me to her and back again, measuring the situation. He came down the steps and made his way over to us, stopping beside Brooke.
He didn’t stand in front of her, but close enough that if something went sideways, he’d be there.
The guy was being protective of his woman.
I couldn’t fault him for that. He hadn't done a thing wrong. As far as I knew, his only crime was loving Brooke. The realization got to me more than I wanted to admit.
Seeing the concern in his eyes, Brooke looked up at him and said, “I’m fine. We were just talking.”
“I’m Ryan,” he said, offering his hand to me.
I stared at it a moment, and even though it was hard, I took it. His grip was firm, just like mine. Neither of us was trying to prove anything. We were just trying to figure each other out. I gave him a quick nod. “I’m Brayden. Good to meet ya.”
“Same.” He nodded once before looking back at Brooke. “You sure everything is okay?”
“Yeah, we’re good.” She reached up and gave the little girl a tickle. “I won’t be much longer.”
“Okay.” He glanced back at me as he announced, “I’ll be inside if you need me.”
She kissed the top of the little girl’s head, and my chest tightened so hard I could barely breathe. She made it look so natural, like breathing. A soft smile crossed her face as she watched him turn and head back to the house.
She’d always wanted this.
A family. A home. Someone to love.
I’d always known she’d have it.
I’d just always hoped it would be with me.
I looked back at Ryan and the little girl, watching as they stopped just inside the screen door. He wasn’t listening. He wasn’t even trying to. He was waiting, just like Brooke asked him to.
Because he trusted her, and I envied him for that more than I cared to admit.
My attention drifted back to the little girl.
She was leaning into Ryan, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Like he was her father. She was watching me and her mother, completely unaware that my whole damn world had just tipped sideways.
“How old is she?”
“Almost nineteen months.”
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. I’d already done the math.
It wasn’t hard. There was no way I could forget the last time we were together.
It wasn’t quite three years ago. Not long after, the calls came even less often, and it just seemed harder and harder to work out a weekend to see each other.
Soon I stopped asking, and the silence settled in.
It wasn’t just her.
My pride and overall mental state had a part to play in it. I’d always known she deserved better. I was a kid with no real home, no family, and if that wasn’t enough, I was responsible for my own brother’s death.
She always said none of that mattered, that she knew I was a good man, but I knew she was wrong and I’d grown tired of trying to prove otherwise.
So, when the calls stopped coming, I didn’t fight the silence.
I leaned into it.
That’s why I did what I did.
Yeah, I wasn’t innocent in all this. I had my own part to play in it, one that ultimately ended up being the best thing that ever happened to me. That didn’t mean I stopped caring about her. It didn’t mean I stopped loving her. Hell, even after all this time, I still loved her.
It didn’t matter now. The damage was done. She’d moved on. There was no changing that. But I still had to know, “Is she mine?”
“Bray…”
Her eyes filled with tears when I pushed, “Just tell me.”
“Yes. She’s yours.”
It was true.
I had a daughter.
A beautiful, precious daughter.
Her first smile. Her first word. Her first laugh. Her first bad dream. Her first scraped knee. They’d all come and gone, and I’d missed it. Every single one of them.
If I’d known she was pregnant, I never would’ve done it.
I ran my hand over my face, trying like hell to make sense of it all. My thoughts were starting to spiral when Brooke whispered, “I’m sorry. I know this is a shock, but I can explain everything.”
“Then explain.”
She glanced up at the house, and it was no surprise that Ryan was still standing there, watching us like a hawk.
He had to wonder why the woman he loved was crying.
He didn’t know me. He didn’t know what Brooke and I had been.
And if I had to guess, I’d say he didn’t know that the little girl he was holding was mine. But he would know soon enough.
“I can’t do this here… It’s too hard.” Her voice was strained as she said, “Meet me at our place… tomorrow at one.”
Our place.
She remembered.
“I’ll be there.”
I didn’t trust myself to say anything more.
So, I turned and walked back over to my bike.
I kicked my leg over the seat, and when I glanced back at Brooke, she was still standing where I’d left her, watching me as I pulled on my helmet.
I held her gaze as I shoved the key into the ignition and started the engine.
Eventually, I forced myself to focus on the road ahead and pulled away from the curb without looking back. Because if I waited a second longer, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to leave.
I felt lost as I left her neighborhood.
I didn’t know where a man went when he’d just found out he was a father, eighteen months too late. I drove for a while, hoping to clear my head, and when that didn’t work, I decided to go to the clubhouse for a beer.
When I got to the bar, Rusty and a couple of the brothers were playing pool and shooting the shit. I could’ve joined them, filled them in on what had just gone down with Brooke, but I just didn’t have it in me. So, I grabbed a six-pack from the cooler and made my way outside.
I popped the cap off the first bottle before I stepped out the back door. I walked over to one of the old picnic tables and sat down. It was tucked far enough away that the music from inside was nothing more than a dull hum. I took a long pull from my beer and looked up at the stars.
It was funny. I'd spent the last year and a half thinking the biggest thing I'd missed was Brooke. It turned out I’d missed a whole lot more than that.
I didn't know anything about my own little girl, and that thought hollowed me out. I took another drink and tried to figure out how we’d ended up here.
My mind wandered back, drifting to the one place it always seemed to go whenever I thought about Brooke.
Our place. It wouldn’t look like much to anybody but us.
It was just an old gravel road that led straight to the water.
I'd found it on one of those lonely nights when I was sleeping in my truck.
I’d gone to sleep thinking I’d found a great little hideout and woke to find the most beautiful, serene place I’d ever seen.
The water stretched out forever, smooth as glass most evenings, with the mountains standing watch in the distance. It reminded me that there was still something beautiful in the world, even when life was kicking the hell out of me.
The first time I took Brooke there, I was embarrassed. I couldn't afford fancy restaurants or movie tickets. Most weeks, I barely had enough to pay for gas, so I did what I could.
I packed peanut butter and banana sandwiches, a couple of bags of chips, and two bottles of orange soda in an old cooler I'd found in the back of my truck.
Brooke never once made me feel cheap for it.
As soon as I parked, she hopped out and looked out across the water like I'd taken her somewhere exotic.
“Oh, Bray… It’s perfect.”
Perfect.
Nobody had ever used that word to describe anything that had to do with me, and that was the start of my demise. I fell for her in ways I couldn’t begin to describe.
After that, we'd go every chance we got. Sometimes, we’d grab a sack of burgers on the way or hot dogs that we cooked over a fire. Sometimes, we’d skip dinner altogether and just watch the sunset. We talked about anything and everything.
The garage.
Her classes.
We made plans for the future. She’d be the world’s best social worker, and one day, I’d have my own garage. And we’d have a house of our own. Nothing too fancy. Just a few bedrooms with a backyard and a front porch swing.
A lot like the one she had now.
She wanted kids. She made that clear from the start, and I was all for it. I wanted it all. Her. The house. The kids. The ordinary little life I’d never thought I could have.
The last time we’d gone out to our spot, it was turning cooler. The leaves were changing, and there was a breeze coming off the lake. We sat on the tailgate, listening to the water along the bank, and she told me she loved me. I told her I loved her back.
We didn’t say it like a couple of crazy teenagers who had no idea what they were talking about. We said it like it meant something, and it did. Hell, it meant everything. We'd made love beneath the stars that night, wrapped up in a faded quilt, believing we had all the time in the world.
Neither of us knew it would be the last.
Looking back, it was almost comical. The place where we had become one would now be the place where we would untangle everything we’d lost. Or try to. I finished off my beer and opened another.
I should’ve been furious. And part of me was, but not just at her. I was angry with myself, too. More than I truly wanted to admit. It wasn’t all up to her. I could’ve let go of my wounded ego and fought for her.
I didn’t.