Happy Thanksgiving everyone! I bring an update to you - which is also centered around Thanksgiving!
Fun fact, this chapter is actually a bonus chapter that I drummed up while at work about 6 months ago. It was never supposed to be apart of this story but once it started flowing, I knew it was a neccessary piece that needed to be added and shared. So I truely hope you enjoy it.
With that being said, this will be the last update of the year. Due to the holidays and my work schedule, I don't have alot of time to write and edit right now - but I'm trying because we're so close to the end, and I really think you guys are going to love it.
So I'll see you all in 2025! Have a safe and wonderful holiday season! :)
"Okay... I think we have everything - you ready to go?" Gathering the diaper bag on her shoulder before slinging the whining baby on her opposite hip.
Looking up from his toys on the floor, he frowned, "Why daddy jus no-t go-in to Tanks-givwen wit us, mommy?"
Giving her daughter a toy, she sighed and ran her hand over his head, "We talked about this, buddy. Remember daddy has a lot on his mind and wants to stay home today?"
His eyes lowered, lip starting to wobble ever so slightly, on the verge of tears as he asked, "Is - is daddy gonna go a-way too?"
She swallowed roughly, not knowing exactly what to tell him in a way he would understand. They had been living in Kathleen's guest house for a week, and not by her doing, ever since Ricky got the letter about Bob. At his insistence, he wanted time to think and plan, and he needed all of them somewhere safe. Even against her pleading, he demanded it. Much like he wanted to be alone for Thanksgiving despite their families' encouragement to come and celebrate.
John was taking it harder than she was though, constantly asking why daddy wasn't with them, or why they only got to see daddy a little bit every day versus when they used to live with him. He didn't understand why Ricky was so hellbent on keeping him away from the apartment - because it's the first place Bob would look - and that couldn't happen. But trying to explain that to an almost 4-year-old, was a challenge because all he knew was that daddy was home, and he and his sister weren't. And he didn't like it.
Raking her fingers through his hair, Amy shook her head, "No, sweetie - daddy's just trying to figure some things out. He's not leaving, okay?" Emma whined in her ear, headbutting her shoulder and causing her to wince, "We just need to give him some space for a little bit."
"I mwiss daddy..." His lip puckered, fisting his right eye tiredly. He wasn't sleeping much those days due to all the uncertainty and confusion.
She sighed again, taking his hand into hers, "I know buddy." Stroking his knuckles with her thumb soothingly, "I do too."
The door opened suddenly, his face just as emotionless and hard as it was the night they were essentially kicked out of the apartment. She knew he was dealing with a lot, but the way he was choosing to deal with it, angered her. And he knew it.
"You okay, buddy?" Ricky glanced over at her, noting their son's sad demeanor.
With a quick nod, she hoisted the baby higher on her hip, "We're going to be late."
Taking a step forward, he gave a small nod and did something she didn't expect. Wrapping one arm around her, he leaned in for a quick kiss and whispered softly, "Bye, I'll see you guys later." Raising a brow, she patted his chest with one hand and headed for the door. "Have lots of fun, okay?" He smiled at his boy, tousling his hair which made him grin. He missed seeing it and missed seeing them every day.
With a sigh, he watched as they walked out the door and closed it behind them, encasing the apartment in eery silence.
A tear slid down his cheek, pondering why he continued to thrust himself into this isolated state instead of surrounding himself with the love of his little family. But then he looked down and saw his son's discarded action figures on the floor and it all came flooding back - He was alone because it was what was best for everyone. For Amy, and Emma, and most importantly John.
The night he received the letter felt like a lifetime ago, even though it had merely been 8 days.
8 days since his perfect little life had crumbled down around him. Bob was up for parole and he had 8 days to figure out what he would do about it.
He tried to put it off the night it happened; go for a long walk and try to rid his mind of the possibility of his father walking the streets freely again - but he couldn't. He couldn't shake the horrible feeling that consumed him. And that night solidified to him that until he could get a grasp on it, Amy, Emma, and John had to go. They had to be somewhere safe. Somewhere Bob wouldn't go looking if he got the opportunity to do so. It wasn't an easy decision, hell it killed him make it, but it was the right one.
That night, Amy volunteered to stay there while he tried to clear his head. She stayed all night until he dragged himself back into the apartment at 2am. Not even bothering to change clothes, he sunk into the couch, only to be riddled by horrific nightmares shortly after drifting off. It was those nightmares that had him screaming and thrashing very loudly. And it was those nightmares that scared his son so bad, he was terrified to go near him that morning at breakfast. So he made the choice that night to have Amy take them to the guesthouse for a few days.
Unfortunately, his mom Nora was in the same state of mind, and utterly terrified to leave her apartment without her gun fully loaded and ready to fire - and with her being a felon, if she got caught again, she was going away for a long time. He didn't want that for her, so he brought her to the apartment, and Leo had one of his security guys monitoring the butchershop, as well as taking Nora to and from the office.
Now here he was, 8 days later, mulling over things again instead of celebrating Thanksgiving with his family because, in less than 24 hours, he would either be given the worst news of his life, or the best. And either way he had to be ready.
"John - watch your sister - and don't get dirty - Jon -" She sighed, holding the door open as they all gathered on the porch.
"Fun times, huh?" He chuckled at his grandkids playing with Moose. She scoffed playfully, tying her hair into a ponytail. "Just wait, these are the good ole days - you'll see." Shrugging she took a seat on the wicker chair, lowering her eyes to her hands. He pursed his lips at his daughter's sad expression, "So he's really not coming today, huh?"
Toying with the butterfly ring she wore on her finger, Amy shook her head, "Nope. He wanted time to think -"
"Hasn't he had enough time? It's been a week for crying out loud!" He interrupted loudly, causing the tot in the yard to look up at them.
Kathleen crossed her arms and raised a brow at him, "George, let Ricky deal with this however he needs to. It's not a decision he's taking lightly. Let him handle it."
"He hasn't seen his children in a week and that's not right!" George countered, kicking an acorn across the wood with the tip of his shoe. "I'm just worried he's going to do something - and unlike this last scrape of his - he won't be able to take it back."
They gave each other a look before she slunk back against the chair, biting her lip to keep from crying, "I am too... first Ben, now Bob... Will we ever catch a break?" Excusing herself, she ran back into the house, desperate for a moment to cry. Having both the kids with her now didn't give her much opportunity to be alone and sob. Or to go to therapy - which she felt like she desperately needed during all of this.
Bolting upstairs, she paused by the wall and slid down it, cupping her hand over her mouth to muffle the scream trapped in her throat.
Her hand went to her mouth, "W-w-what? H-h-ow?"
His jaw tensed, trying to keep his hands from shaking, "Good behavior -" crumpling the letter up into a ball and launching it across the apartment with a growl, "That sick son of a bitch is getting out on fucking good behavior!" He raged, throwing the bag of frozen vegetables against the door. The bag busted, spilling the contents all over the floor. He shook his head repeatedly, swiping the tears from his eyes with a loud sniffle, "You should go, it's getting late and you have that early shift in the morning."
"It's fine -" She stated calmly, bending to pick up the scattered remnants of what would have been next week's dinner companion, scooping as many of the cubed bits into the ripped bag as she could. He walked away quickly, slamming the bathroom door so hard she jolted at the scare.
"Mommy..." John stood by the kitchen light, fisting his eye and draping the blue blanket over his head, mumbling tiredly.
"Hey buddy, why are you out of bed?" Amy stood up and went over to him, guiding him by the hand back towards the bedroom.
He whined through a sniffle, clutching the blanket tighter, "I -I jus hwear-ed dis lwoud noi-se an - an I g-ot sc-ared..."
She sighed, knowing the loud noise he was referring to her was the result of his father's outburst. "It's okay, baby. It was just a noise, you're safe I promise." Opening the door wider, she led him back into his bed, waiting the three minutes before he slipped into slumber again before making her way out. Closing the door and at the same time the other one opened, they came face to face with each other. Ricky didn't speak, just held the same look on his face as he stormed into the livingroom, taking a spot on the sofa bed and putting his shoes on quickly.
She knew there was no reason to question where he was going. He wouldn't tell her anyway. He never did. His walks were his, and he never wanted to disclose where they took place, and she respected his boundary. Instead, taking a seat beside him and embracing him with a soft, "It's going to be okay," against his shoulder. He looked at her with red and glassy eyes, unable to keep his fingers from trembling. Kissing the side of his head, she stroked his cheek, "I'll be here if you want to talk, okay?" Swallowing he nodded slowly and rose to stand, grabbing his jacket and stepping over the remaining thawed vegetables on the floor before shutting the door roughly.
Taking a seat back on the sofa, she put her hands to her face, fighting back the tears pricking her eyes while gritting her teeth to combat the rage coursing through her body. This wasn't happening. It couldn't. Not now. Not when things were finally starting to look up for them. Not when they were finally becoming a family again.
"M-m-mommy..." John sniffled through a hiccup, hugging that grimy teddy bear to his chest tightly, "m-mommy I - I sc-ared... I - I - I -" being choked by his cries as he coughed.
Sniffling herself, Amy sighed lowly, putting her hand out towards him, "C'mere, baby, It's okay." Obliging, he ran to her, sniveling against Benny's raggedy fur as she wrapped him in an embrace, kissing his head and scrunching his blonde locks between her fingers.
The faint sound of something drew her back, noting the pauses between what sounded like crying, and coming from behind the door. There were only 7 people in the house - and 4 of them were outside. "Grace?" She called out slowly, rising to stand and tap her knuckles on the door, "Grace?" The crying started again, and before she knew what was happening, her hand was on the knob, pushing the door open.
There sat Grace, on the bathroom floor, slung over the toilet, puking her guts up.
"Oh whoa. Okay -" Rushing quickly into the space, Amy knelt beside her and held back the strands of blonde that were slipping past her shoulders, trying not to vomit herself at both the action, and the odor. "It's okay, just breathe."
Waiting until she was sure the worst was over, she lifted her head slowly and accepted the wadded-up piece of toilet paper from her hand to wipe her mouth. "Thanks, I just - I don't know what came over me... must be the food I ate for break-"
The signs were visible; having been in this same situation more than once. She touched her arm, her voice gentle, "How far along are you, Grace?"
Grace's eyes enlarged like saucers, unbelieving that someone would ask her such a ridiculous question, "What? Why would you -" But when she saw the look in her eyes, she knew there was no use in hiding it. Amy, of all people, would know her lie before it even left her lips. She sighed heavily, a tear rolling down her cheek, "... a few months..."
Taking a seat on the bathtub, "Have you told anyone?" She shook her head, keeping her eyes low. "Well, Chris must be excited, right?" When her glance cut to the door, Amy got the message that she didn't want to discuss it because it wasn't her boyfriends baby. It was her ex's. Rather than ask the obvious, she bit her top lip, "Oh... does he know?"
Swallowing roughly, she shook her head repeatedly, "... I couldn't bring myself to tell him..." covering her face with her hands and crying, "Gosh why am I so stupid!"
"Hey, you're not stupid. You just made a mistake. It'll be okay." She comforted, crossing her right leg over her left to get more comfortable.
She scoffed, sniffling, "How is my having a baby when I haven't even started my life yet, going to be okay?"
Toying with the ring again, she shrugged, "... It just... Will be..." Handing her another wad of toilet paper, "Me of all people, after everything that I've gone through, would know. You're going to be okay. And if you don't believe that..." She stood, looking out the small window to her right with a smile, "look at these two little ones outside who were born to parents who thought their lives were ruined... but they ended up okay."
Gripping the steering wheel tighter, he took a shaky breath and glanced out the window. A new guard was taking his place by the entryway, as the old one stepped through the gate. He'd been sitting in his car for the past 20 minutes, contemplating what he wanted to do. Or rather what he had to do.
Taking another glance out the window, he watched as the clouds shifted and cast a dark shadow over the barbed wire fencing securing a large majority of the gray building. The guard now shifting his gun inside his holster while checking his watch.
The last time he had been at this place, he was young - barely 12 - and his social worker brought him there to deliver papers issued by the courts to relinquish the scum bag who called himself a birth father, parental rights. He stayed back with an officer, but his curious mind got the better of him and he peered around to see him. A part of him secretly hoping that he would rebel against the court order because he had changed and was ready to be the father he never had.
But that was just a stupid childish wish.
He still remembered the look on his face when he signed them; the smirk crossing his lips, before snarling a disgusting, "Good luck with that worthless son of mine."
The phone buzzed inside the cup holder, snapping him back; tears he didn't know he had, streaming down his face. It was now or never. Wiping his face with his jacket sleeve, he composed himself before stepping a shaky step out of the car.
24 minutes later
"Well, well, well... I figured you'd eventually be by to see me..." He mocked from behind the glass, the same smug smirk he always had visible on his disgusting face. He said nothing, just took a seat on the other side and grabbed the black phone hanging a few inches from his head. "How's life, son?"
"Don't! Okay, just don't!" He snapped, unable to hold back all the emotions ravaging though him. "Don't call me son, and you don't get to know about my life - not now, and not ever, alright!"
"Ooh, ouch. That hurt." His eyes widened slightly, pursing his lips, "You know I'll be out in a couple of days - where are the amends?"
His brow cocked, "Amends? I'll forgive you when Hell freezes over." Gripping the phone tighter in his hand, trying to relieve some of the tension in his body, "And you won't be getting out if I have anything to do with it. Not this week, and not ever."
"That's no way to treat your fath-"
The loud slam to the table made the person next to him, jolt, as Ricky seethed, "YOU are NOT my father! You might have had participation in creating me, but you in no way were a father." A lump started forming in his throat, as a few tears threatened to brim in his eyes. Shaking his head to rid them, "A father would NEVER do the things you did!" He bit his lip hard, hoping that the pain of the bite would block out the pain in his chest at seeing this monster before him. "A father is someone who is supposed to love and protect their children - not abuse them! You'll never change. You're just a pathetic excuse for a man who robbed me of my childhood, beat me like a punching bag, and walloped on my mother." Getting closer to the glass, his eyes steeled, angry slits shielding their dark tint. "You're not a man - you're damn coward. Scum. A worthless piece of shit that deserves to rot in a prison cell - and then in Hell - for the rest of your disgusting and miserable life!" Having said what he needed to say, he slammed the phone back on the hook with a scowl and pushed back the blue plastic chair roughly.
"Look at you, huh - always playing the victim..." Bob snarled back, twisting the phone cord between his fingers with a sickening grin, "I made a man out of you! You should be thanking me -"
Slamming both his hands on the table, he shouted, "You're sick! Demented -"
"Just like I know you'll eventually make a man out of that little boy of yours... it's in your blood, son. It's in your history. You can't stop it, and you can't run from it." That grin. That sickening, demented, evil grin. The same one he used after every night of torture. The same he flashed when he was on his knees sobbing into his hands to please kill him because he couldn't take it anymore. The same one he issued in court on the day a child advocate wisked him away after the verdict was read and his father was found guilty of over a dozen crimes and sentenced to prison. It was something about that grin, that made him come unglued.
Picking up the phone again, Ricky took a long breath, not wanting to let this scumbag see him break; or give him the satisfaction of knowing his mere presence still affected him. He had to be smarter than him, no matter how much he wanted to jump over the plexiglass barrier and beat him into a coma - he had to remain calm. "Like Hell I can't! I will NEVER do ANYTHING to my son, and I'll kill whoever touches a hair on his head without so much as a blink."
"I used to say that same thing... but then you happened and... your innocence was like a drug. A drug that could get me higher than any needle could -" The grin continued.
Swallowing the bile creeping up his throat, he took another long breath and closed his eyes, imaging himself strangling the man before him to death with the phonecord. "Well, unlike you I actually have a soul. My children will never know the cycle of abuse - because I'm ending it. It's done. And so is this conversation!"
Seeing that he was about to hang up, Bob clicked his tongue and chuckled, "I get the paper you know. I saw the engagement photo and read the birth announcement... Quite the little family you conjured up for yourself. That Amy's a beautiful woman. You got a handsome little guy and a pretty little girl..." At the mention of his children, Ricky looked up and glared with so much hatred and disdain, Bob couldn't help but snicker at his son's dramatics knowing full well he still held power over him. "Your boy has to be what, about 4 now?" His brow raised, drawing an imaginary pattern into the table with his finger, "I get out in a couple of days, and as you've stated - you have a hand in making that a possibility... a possibility that I would very much like to have since I hear Vegas is booming right now." Leaning back in the chair, he watched him swallow, his hands starting to shake ever so slightly. Pursing his lips, he drummed his finger against the phone, a sadistic lilt in his voice, "Now I don't want to ruffle feathers, but... It would be mighty ashamed if someone were to say... run into that perfect little family of yours..."
Now he had crossed a line. Red was beginning to blur his vision, the hot angry tears stinging his cheeks with the salt on his skin as he raved and fought the urge to lunge forward, break the glass, and kill him with his bare hands. "You're lucky you're behind glass or else I'd strangle you with my bare hands, right now!" His hands were shaking now, unable to keep composure as the unrelenting rage started peaking through, "I'm warning you - you, or anyone else come within 10 feet of me, or Amy, or my kids - you're dead. I'll kill you right then and there and not even bat an eye."
He chuckled at the game they were playing, knowing his sons words were empty and hollow, "Is that a threat? Are you threatening me?"
"No..." He sniffled angrily, rising to stand, "That's a damn promise!" Slamming the phone down as hard as he could before tossing the chair and storming out of the facility.
His chest was on fire. Lungs burning so fiercely he couldn't catch a breath while his heart beat skyrocketed. Shaking his head, he groaned and clamped a hand over his face - now was not the time for a panic attack. Now was the time to get his head into gear and stop this monster once and for all.
Clenching his teeth, he started taking as many breaths as he could to ease the burn, until his breathing was normal again, and his heart wasn't threatening to blow out of his chest. Once he got to his car, he took out his phone and dailed quickly, grasping the roots of his hair when they answered, and looked over at the building before asking, "Hey, it's me - I need a favor, how soon can you meet?"
"They wear you out?" She giggled, seeing her huffing slightly against the island.
Nodding, she swiped the hair out of her face, "How do they have that much energy? Are they like that all the time?"
She nodded, eyes widening, "Oh yeah. Everyday. John more than Emma though - until she starts walking that is."
Taking a place next to her at the sink, she took a rag from the counter and swiped the plate, "Has she started to yet?"
She shook her head, scrubbing a casserole dish with the scrub brush, "Not yet, but it'll probably happen within the next couple of days. John started to walk just before his first birthday, but it's fine if she doesn't. She'll walk when she's ready I guess." Shrugging, she smiled and rinsed off the dish and handed it to her with a sad sigh, "I just hope Ricky is around to see it..."
Looking down at the dishrag, Grace frowned, feeling the shift of uncomfortable tension in the air. "Can I ask you something?" She shrugged but nodded, rinsing a cup. "What is horsey leapfrog?"
Amy couldn't help but chuckle at the question, letting the cup fall back into the dish water intentionally, "That would be a game Ricky made up. He let's them get on his back like he's a horse, but when John says leapfrog, he springs to his feet - with them on his back - and jumps like a frog. It's silly, but they love it." The sadness was showing in her eyes, trying to shield her hurt by focusing on the half full sink of dishes left to do.
Grace could sense it was bevoming heavy, so she lightly touched her arm and whispered, "Thanks... for earlier..."
"You're welcome. I meant what I said, Grace." She sniffled, "I know how difficult this is for you, and I've been there too - twice... you're going to need someone in your corner because it's not easy." She nodded, letting a tear slide down her cheek. "I'm here for you, okay? And so is Ricky."
Nodding, she sniffled and lowered her gaze, "How is he?"
"Why don't you believe me when I tell you I'm fine! I don't need to talk to someone, Amy!" He yelled, threading his fingers across the back of neck in frustration
She stood her ground, crossing her arms over her chest, "You've been locked up in this place for days and you don't think you need to talk to someone? Are you serious right now?" Shaking her head with a scoff, she took a step forward, "I've given you space, Ricky. I've gone along with all of this because you asked me to even though I didn't want to! The least you could do is tell me the freaking truth and let me help you!"
Putting his hands out in front of him, to prevent her from coming closer, he shook his head vigorously, "I don't need you to help me, alright? I need you to keep staying at the guesthouse with the kids while I try to make a plan! Just do what I ask you to this one time - can you do that?" Closing his eyes, he stormed out of the kitchen and into the livingroom, pausing by the sofa and craning his head up towards the ceiling.
"... Ricky please... just talk to Dr. Fields, or your mom, or... someone -" Amy's voice broke, pleading as she grabbed his hand.
"And what will that accomplish, huh?" Ricky shot back, recoiling against her touch, with shaky breath and tears in his eyes, "Bob's hearing is in 2 days and I have to be ready! I have to make a plan - because locked doors and pieces of paper isn't going to stop him!"
She sniffled, "And what is sitting here going to do? Huh?" Lifting her eyes to his so he would see how much him pushing her away, was hurting her. "You've got us locked away like rapunzel in a castle, and for what? All you're doing is scaring our kids, Ricky!" His eyes lowered to his hands, feeling them start to shake slightly. She grabbed his left one and brought it to her chest, "They just want to be with YOU, and know from YOU they are safe. They want their daddy..." Sniffling again, she sighed and bit her lip, "I'm just trying to protect y -"
"I don't need your protection! I need you to leave things alone!" He shook away from her, slamming his palms on the door to combat his emotions on the situation. He loved this woman, and knew she was right, but he also knew Bob and his anger at him. Bob would stop at nothing to hurt him, and he didn't care how he did it. Amy couldn't grasp the severity of the situation, nobody could. So instead of letting her get closer to him, and be a part of this nightmare, he chose the best way forward for all of them - distance himself until this was all over. Regardless of who agreed with it or not. She couldn't get wrapped up in this mess anymore than she already was by having his children. Now it was his job to make sure both her and those children were safe. Even if it meant not seeing them for a few weeks. Bob couldn't find them if he had no where to look. "I'm going to do what I have to do. And you need to do what you have to do - and that is to keep staying at the guesthouse with the kids and being safe." Biting his lip, he hung his head and let the tears slide down his cheeks, "... Could you just give me that - please?"
"I don't know..." Sighing, Amy wiped her face on her dress sleeve and tossed the scrub brush into the sink, "I mean I want to give him space... but I also want to comfort him." Wiping her hands, she ran them in her hair closing her eyes and shaking her head, "It's just such a hard line to distinguish because the more he pushes away, the more I pull back and... him locking us away inside the guesthouse like rapunzel in her castle, isn't helping matters either." Sniffling, "John's afraid he's going to leave... like I did..." another sniffle, toying with her butterfly ring, as she choked on her soft cries, "And I keep reassuring him that's not the case - that daddy just needs space... but what if it does? What if this drives him so crazy he -" She couldn't finish her sentence, clamping her hand over her mouth to muffle the loud sob bubbling in her throat.
"I don't know much about Ricky's father, I mean other than what Ricky told me... but I remember how affected he was the last time Bob showed up." Grace put her hand on her back, "He was really shaken up. I'd never seen that side of him before. I'm actually surprised he didn't kill him with that baseball bat that day at the batting cages. The rage in his eyes... "
"John, baby, it's okay you come sit down at the table with us... and maybe later we can get a special treat..." She tried to bargain with him, leaning against the aged woods frame in hopes her son would open the door and come out of the room.
"No!" He replied harshly, kicking his foot on the other side of it.
"Okay, well can mommy come eat in there, with you?" It was silent, inching her hand further on the knob, "Daddy made us all breakfast and you need to eat -"
With a loud sniffle, "I no wa-nt it!"
"Leave him be, Amy, it's obvious he doesn't want to be around me... why would he..." Ricky sulked, running his hands over his face on the couch. It had been like this since last night, when John had awoken to him screaming and thrashing in his sleep. They tried to assure their son that daddy was just having a really bad dream and that he was okay, but John was terrified from the sight. So terrified he refused to come out of his room or be around his dad at all.
Turning on her heel, she glared at him, "Would you stop, please? He's just scared because of what happened last night. He's not scared of you, alright?" Knocking a little lighter, "John - hey buddy -" She sighed at the silence, "Okay, well... I'll be out here when you want to eat, okay?" Sauntering into the kitchen to check on their other child busy playing with a pile of scrambled eggs, she grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and walked over to the sofa, handing it to him. "Is Reuban coming over later?" He stayed silent, eyes focused on his shoes to prevent her from seeing the anger, hurt, and pain swimming behind them. "Have you called Nora?" She huffed at his continuing silence, and shook her head with annoyance, "Are you going to say anything?"
It took a few minutes as she walked back into the kitchen to be with their daughter before Ricky finally said, "I think you should go."
Running the rag over their messy child, Amy rolled her eyes, "Ricky, it's fine my shift isn't until thr-"
He shook his head, "No. I meant go as in take the kids and go to Kathleens guesthouse for the night... maybe longer."
Popping the highchair off to rinse it, "And what would that solve? You're just trying to bury your feelings and -"
"No I'm not!" He yelled back angerily, standing to his feet and tossing one of the many toys by his feet across the livingroom, "This isn't about my feelings or any other crap, alright? It's about making sure you and our children have a safe place to go while I figure this shit out!"
Her eyes widened at his outburst, glaring at him when their daughter started to cry, "Will you lower your voice! You already scared one kid - you trying for the both of them?" Plucking Emma out of the highchair, she ran a ran over her back to soothe her, "You can't just hide from your problems -"
"Oh that's real rich coming from you! Ms 'I run away whenever my life goes to shit'!" He retorted bitterly, scratching at the stuble growing on his chin.
Taken aback by his harsh dig, she swllowed quickly and cradled the baby against her chest, keeping her voice calm even though she desperately wanted to yell at him for being such an asshole in that moment. "Look, I'll take a bag and we'll have a sleepover at my dad's tonight. That way you can be alone to think, and we can recoup and figure this out, together, tomorrow."
His back was still turned, facing away from her, his tone cold, "It wasn't a request, Amy. I mean it, until or unless Bob is out of the picture, you and the kids need to go! Not for a night or two - until I know you're completely out of harms way!" Turning on his heel, he passed by them and met her gaze; darkness in his eyes, clouded by anger and pain, "And this is the end of the discussion!" Before he rounded the corner to the bathroom and slammed the door, causing a chorus of crying from two very small children who just wanted their daddy to stop yelling.
"... He won't share any of that stuff with me..." Toying with the dishmat she didn't even know she had her hands on, Amy sniffled again, "Other than just surface stuff, he won't share much. Says he doesn't want to entangle me with his hellish past... but I think there's more." Leaning forward, she grabbed one of her daughters spare pacifiers from the counter, twirling it in her fingers, with a heavy sigh, "I push, he pulls. I want him to open up to me, and he just shuts down and pulls away everytime I bring it up. I understand it was very dark and traumatic for him, and it's an absolute miracle that he's come out to he the great husband and father that he is -"
"But?"
"But... I just feel like there's this whole other piece of him missing. Like there's this hole in him that can't be filled... and it worries me because if we're going to make our marriage work again, I want transparency. I need to know we're both willing to tell each other everything."
Grace's eyes widened at the last part of her statement, "Again? Are you -?"
"Oh, no." She shook her head through a small sniffle filled giggle, "Not yet, anyway."
"But you're open to it? Even after... ?"
"Of course. I love him." Tipping her lip up a hare, she traced the worn image on the plastic with the tip of her finger, "... I just wish he would see that and break whatever wall he's building down, and let me all the way in for him, you know?" She nodded sadly, putting her hand on her arm.
"I don't know why I keep doing this - pushing her away when I know all she wants is to be there for me... just wants to love me and let me know it's going to be okay..." He bit his lip, kicking a discarded acorn across the gravel with his shoe, "But how can it be? Huh? He's back... Bob's back and unless the courts come to their senses and realize that the only place that man deserves to live is behind bars... It's over..." A tear slid down his cheek, "He'll just keep coming back again, and again, and again until he gets what he wants..." Voice lowering to barely a whisper, "Until he gets... John..."
"Ricky, deep down inside - you are a good person. What happened to you was not your fault. But what you choose to do to other people - that is your responsibility. Son you have it within yourself... to change yourself. And to stop the cycle. You - you can stop the cycle. I believe that. I believe in you. And that's not to say I'm still a little bit nervous about you hanging around with me daughter, but one believe that you - you can stop the cycle of violence in your family... if you make the decision to do that."
His jaw tensed, eyes glassy as the anger started to rise to the surface, listening to this man who didn't know shit about him or his life, spewing all these beliefs at him. Who was he to state these things to him? To tell him he believes he can stop a cycle that's been a curse to his bloodline for decades. Who is he to think his words have any merit to understand the hell he had to endure? "What makes you think you know anything about this? What makes you think you know anything about my life? Is this something you learned in Med school? Something you read in a book? No offense but I dont think you know anything about it."
Dr. Bowmans eyes clouded over, his face tensing and his brows pointed - "No offense, but I know everything about it, Ricky. I know everything about this!" He sniffled, "You see my brother was a big baseball fan and our next door neighbor somehow always had extra tickets... while our next door neighbor was sexually abusing my brother and one day he killed himself."
The lump in his throat grew, unknowing how to respond to the man's confession, and guilty that he accused him man of not knowing when all along he did. But what else was there to say? "How did you find out about the neighbor?"
He pursed his lips again, a few tears running down his jaw as he shakily declared, "On the suicide note. It was the first time any of us knew anything about it... you see my brother was afraid that if we knew about that we wouldn't love him anymore." He drew in a shaky breath and grabed his hand, a plea in his voice, "So that is why I am glad that you have chosen to talk to somebody and if you ever need to talk to anybody about this you can talk to me. You can talk to Grace. No judgement. Ever. I promise."
"You promised me!" He shouted to the ground, "You promised me that if I ever needed to talk to someone about this - you'd he here! But you're not! And I - I don't know what to do!" Clamping his hand over his mouth, he began to sob loudly, knowing that the cement block in the ground before him could provide no comfort. No answers.
The wind started picking up again, blowing his disheveled curls and sending a tiny shiver through him, his voice barely audible as he choked, "... I'm alone..."
Standing there for a solid five minutes in his feelings, he took a seat on the bench with the bronze nameplate engraved in the top and took a slow long breath. The place was almost completely empty aside from a few people laying flowers on a few graves nearby. He didn't know exactly why he came there, because it served no purpose to talk to a dead man, but Dr. Bowman got through to him more than once... maybe he secretly hoped he'd be able to somehow do it again.
He was cremated, Dr. Bowman was, but the church and community wanted something to memorialize him by; something to thank him for serving his people with kindness for so many years. So they had this bench built and dedicated him in that honor, along with a small brick with his name engraved on it.
So there he was, sitting on a bench dedicated to a dead man, as he contemplated everything in the past 8 days that led him to there.
"I've got a family now, you know. I imagine you know that Amy and I finally got together, and that we had another baby - a little girl... you should see her, she's Amy's spitting image - well, other than her green eyes." Ricky's lip tipped up slightly before turning down into a frown, "What do I do, Dr. Bowman? Tell me what to do about Bob..." expelling a breath from his cheeks, "Tell me what to do about preventing him from coming anywhere near me or Amy and our kids... That monster can't get out of prison - and I don't know if my words alone will solidify he stays there..." Swallowing, he drew his lip in, staring out into the distance at the trees swaying in the breeze, "But I can't keep doing this - locking Amy and our kids away inside the guesthouse, trying to make a plan that'll never work -" a tear slid down his cheek, stopping at his jaw, "... He told me John is his target... and it'll be a cold day in hell when someone - anyone - touches one single blonde hair on that little boys head." His hands started shaking again matching that of his wobbling bottom lip, "I'll kill whoever I have to. Pay whatever price it costs me to keep my family safe..."
Swiping his hand over his face, he lingered on his jaw, circling his thumb and forefinger into it to relieve the tension mounting, "You once said I could stop the cycle... that you believed in me to stop the violence that has encompassed my life... wishful thinking, huh?" He scoffed, picking up the acorn from the ground and throwing it as hard as could across the gravel. Trying to keep his temper at bay as he shot off the bench and yelled, "Look at me! Look what all these years have gotten me! I'm still in therapy! My wife left me after the trauma she endured having our second child... and then again after telling me she lost our third..." Squeezing his eyes shut, he grabbed his hair and cried, "I let my kids see my unrelenting rage that I swore I'd never let them see! And I beat a man - that I used to call a friend - half to death because he assaulted Amy. I nearly killed him to defend the woman I love..."
Sniffling, he pulled something from his pocket, trying to keep his hands down steady as he flipped it over, "The cycle of violence can't be broken. It just keeps growing; so quick and rapidly consuming my entire being within minutes... does that sound like a broken cycle to you? Huh, does it?" He was met by silence, the cement brick having a trail of leafs swirling around it from the wind picking up speed. The object in his possession sent bile creeping up his throat and a shiver down his spine as he proclaimed through a rough choke, "I'm trying... I'm trying so damn hard not to get in my car and drive back to that prison, jump over the barrier and just put a bullet into that man's skull... at least then all of this would be over!" He shook his head slowly, letting the tears drip onto his hand, "I might be behind bars for the rest of my life... but at least I'll be there knowing Amy, John, and Emma are safe... that because of me, they'll be out of the crosshairs..." Taking a couple of short, quick breaths, he turned the gun over in his hands, feeling the metal, and reliving the memories before looking around carefully to check his surroundings. "... My life for theirs... whatever it takes..."
It was heavy in his hands and made him want to puke. Shaking his head repeatedly as he continued to cry because he didn't want this. He didn't want this weapon. He didn't want to have to make a choice to use it. But there wasn't another way. If holding this weapon that made his skin crawl and his stomach turn, was the only way to keep his family safe from the monster who his children were unfairly connected to by blood... then so be it. He was ready to fire if needed.
"Shut up!" He heard him scream followed by the loud thwack of his fathers hand connecting with his mother's face, "I said shut up you stupid bitch!" Another blow, this one with his boot to her abdomen. He heard her sputter against the floor and cough to regain her breath. But his father didn't like it, and grabbed her by the head roughly, shoving his loaded glock into her mouth with a venomous, "You're worthless you know that?" She had been out all day, but came back empty and without the score he relyed on to get high, it was going to be a hellish night for all of them. Removing the gun from her mouth, he tossed her to the ground again, landing one more slap across her red cheeks before spitting on her and storming out the door, "You're nothing but a worthless, stupid bitch!"
Hiding in the pantry, Ricky was too petrified to speak, wiping away the fresh tears running down his cheeks hurriedly; afraid that if he so much as uttered a squeak, his father would come back and drag him off into the bedroom for a lesson. And without his father being loaded and high, the lessons were much worse; bruises were darker because Bob was coherent enough to see where his punches landed, and the "lesson" was tougher because he was angry. The angier he was without the drugs, the more pain he'd inflict on him to get the high he was lacking. And he couldn't handle another lesson like that... not when the last one nearly killed him.
A bottle broke against the wall and he raced out of the cabinet to help her before it was too late. "Mom!" He grabbed her arms, using all the strength his little 7 year old body had to hoist her to her knees, "Come on, mom... you gotta get up before he comes back-" Another bottle broke, getting closer to the back door. He tugged again, harder, watching the blood drip from her face as he cried, "Come on..."
He heard the front step creak and dropped her arm quickly, racing into the livingroom and hiding under the sofa as he came back into the kitchen.
"Get up!" He heard Bob scream, kicking his mother in the ribs again before grabbing Nora's face in one hand and her arm with the other, dragging her to the back door, "You and I are gonna take a little ride and then maybe, you'll get it!" The door slammed hard behind them, the sound of the engine of the lime green mustang revving loudly before screeching away.
With bated breath, he waited to see if they would return, and when they didn't and the craphole apartment turned eerily silent, he closed his eyes and cried loudly, "I hate you!" A mouse scurried by his head in a quest to find a discarded crumb on the filthy carpet.
Sliding out from the safety of the sofa, he saw all the blood on the floor - his mother's blood - and started to shake, closing his eyes to will away the pain of having to see such sights at his young age. He wanted a different life. A different family. One that would walk him to school and read to him before bed and make him dinner every night. He wanted a real family. The kids at school had real families - they had moms and dad's who loved them. He had a mom and dad who loved beer and drugs more than him. And a father who found joy and pleasure in causing him torture and pain.
Before he could register what he was doing, Ricky ripped open the backdoor and clutched his tattered pajamas, screaming into the night, "I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!" The sounds of his broken heart reverberated off the concrete walls around him, catching the attention of some nearby dogs who howled at his declaration. He couldn't take this anymore, it was becoming top much and he wanted it all to end! His cries were starting to choke him; his salivia so thick on his tongue he let out a series of violent coughs and screamed with everything he had, "IIIII HATTTEEEEEE YOOOUUUUU!"
The heaps of tears from his eyes dripped onto the metal, catching the sunlight and casting a glare against the plaque from the bench. His pocket began to vibrate against his thigh, sending a jolt through him. Swiping his face, he slowly turned the gun over again and placed it inside the waistband of his dark washed jeans; careful in his movements just incase the safety of the gun someone came undone, before gathering his phone from his pocket.
The vibration sounded again - the phone coming to life with a picture attached of his baby girl with a bib on that read "My First Thanksgiving!" Her little hands greedily fisting her meal and squinting with delight and enjoyment at the camera. His lip tipped up at the sight, just as another one popped up: this one of his son holding up a piece of construction paper with a handprint drawn on it. He chuckled lightly, knowing Amy was the one who drew the eyes and the beak on each of the fingers to resemble a hand turkey. Reading the caption at the bottom of the photos, he bit his lip, and sniffled. "Happy Thanksgiving, we love you daddy!"
"Just don't do anything stupid, alright?"
Those last words Dr. Bowman spoke to him rung in his ears, shifting his gaze to the images again with a loaded sigh, honing in on his children's features; the way they held a smile so similar yet so different. How ones world was simply a mixture of food and diaper changes, and naps and toys, while the other one held thoughts and opinions and emotions and was able to absorb the world around him with such innocence and positivity. Two children created from the same two people, so different in every single way. One dirty blonde and brown eyed, and one dark brown with green. These two tiny children - his children - staring back at him with enjoyment - not caring about his past, or the wrongs he had done. They just knew him as daddy; the one who played with them on the floor, gave hugs and kisses before bed, made their meals, gave them baths, read them stories, and tickled them until their laughter bounced off the walls of the apartment. Their safe place when they were scared, and their protector against anyone who would ever cause them harm. Dr. Bowman was right, he shouldn't do anything stupid, but if protecting the two most important people in his life was stupid, then he didn't have a choice in the matter. Bob had to be stopped and if it came down to it, and he ever came near them, he wouldn't hesitate for a single second to put a bullet between his eyes.
Wiping face again, Ricky heard a leaf crunch under the weight of a boot and turned slowly, half expecting the person staring back him.
"I heard about Bob... how are you?" She asked, keeping a safe distance away but keeping her gaze on him.
He cocked a brow, "How am I?" Scoffing at her nod, "Well, I'm here - talking to the bench of a dead man - instead of being with my family on Thanksgiving... how does it look like I am, Adrian?"
Adrian pursed her lips, taking a step towards him, hands clasped at her waist, "My dad told me you were still trying to figure things out - have you made a decision yet?"
Shaking his head, he sniffled, "What good will it do?" Throwing his hands into the air in aggravation, "Either I don't go and Bob gets out, or I do and the outcome turns out the same... either way I lose!" Sighing, "So -"
"So locking Amy and your kids away in Kathleens guest house isn't going to solve anything!" She rebutted, twisting her purse against her shoulder
"I'm trying to protect them! Why doesn't anyone get that?" He shot back harshly, glaring at her, "Adrian, Bob can't find them! He just can't! Kahtleens guesthouse gives them a safe place -"
"You're an idiot if you believe that, you know that?" She stood firm, contorting her face to give him the look he knew all too well, "Ricky, this is the same man who pretty much stalked the whole town looking for you last time. He went to the Juergens house, your date with Grace, the parking lot of the school -" Pausing, she swiped the hair out of her eyes, "Hiding Amy, Emma and John, away isn't going to work. You know it's not. All you're doing is scaring your kids because their dad isn't there, and they don't understand why." He stayed silent, lowering his gaze to the ground and twisting the tip of his sneaker into the gravel. She took another step forward, her voice getting edgier with a rise in it, "So here's what you need to do - you need to go home, and talk to Amy. Talk to the woman you love because you need her. Let her help you navigate whatever you need to, because this decision doesn't just effect you - she birthed those children who it effects the most - so it effects Amy too." He looked up at her, seeing the years start to brim in his eyes, and opened his mouth to speak before closing it at her hand raise. "I'm sorry for yelling at you I just - I want you to know you're not alone, Ricky... You never were..."
Ricky swallowed roughly, remembering why she would be in this place, on this day in particular. "Does it ever get easier?" His ask was weak, trying to fight back the tsunami threatening to pull him under if he allowed himself to think about his own deceased child, and the emotions surrounding it that he knew Adrian lived through too. If anyone understood his and Amy's pain, it was her.
Adrian swiped her cheek quickly, a break in her voice, "I thought it did... but holidays are always a little tougher... especially since Ben -" Stopping, she looked down at her boots, remembering everything that had transpired the last couple of weeks between all of them. "Sorry, I didn't mean -" He shook his head at her, not needing to carry on the conversation further. Eyes shifting to his phone again, she followed his gaze and caught a glimpse of the image he was staring at, a small smile forming on her face, "Emma's first Thanksgiving, right?"
Lifting his lip up into a half smile, he nodded and held the phone up, "Yeah... Kathleen had a big gathering -" Chuckling, "Clearly the kid is having a miserable time" They both shared a laugh just as another image popped up on the screen: this one sent in a text from Grace - a still shot of Amy sitting on the Bowmans couch, both kids on her lap - John making a face at his sister who has her hand outstretched to him. Amy is staring down on both of them, smiling. The caption reading - "I know you missed today, but wanted to make sure you at least got a good memory. We're all here for you, Ricky. Remember that"
Putting her hand on his, she lowered the device and met his eyes, "I meant what I said... you're not alone, Ricky. Ever."
"Thank you..." He swallowed roughly and nodded slowly, looking at the picture again with a new sense of understanding; understanding what he had to do moving forward, "You may have just stopped me from making a very stupid decision."
"You really want to thank me? Go home."
"I will... I am." Blowing out a breath, he gestured to the parking lot, asking, "You and Omar?"
"Oh, no, we're staying at his parents house. Been there for hours. Why do you think I've been here?" Expanding her hands to the space around them with a sad chuckle, "I love the man, but his family is a bit... much."
He couldn't help but scoff playfully, "Please, I have the Juergens' for mine, and now the Bowmans. I think I got the scale of dysfunction tipped up just a hare above you." The smile was starting to show on his face, looking out into the distance, "I should be getting back - want me to walk you to your car?"
Shaking her head, she too was looking off into the distance, the sunset giving off a comforting glow on the trees around them. Taking a seat on the bench, she ran her fingers across the engraving with a sad sigh, "No, that's fine. I'm just gonna stick around for a few more minutes..."
Nodding, he gave her a small wave and took off for his car, lingering by the door for few seconds to take a couple of deep breaths before climbing inside. Putting the keys into the ignition, he paused to look at the picture again, tracing it with his finger gently as he started to sob openly against the steering wheel, "Everything is going to be okay... I promise... you're all going to be okay..."
"Reuban?" She huffed through a scowl, pacing the floor of their childrens shared bedroom in a rage, "You'd rather talk to your ex-girlfriends father than to me?"
Rolling his eyes at both her dramatics and her loud voices rising pitch that he was certain his guest in the livingroom could hear, he sighed, "It's not like that - I told you I needed time -"
"It's been 3 days! You haven't called, you haven't texted, you haven't even came by to see them! John and Emma want to see their daddy, Ricky! They want YOU!"
"I know, alright? I want to see them too, but not right now. It's not safe yet."
Her eyes were starting to well up with tears, trying to keep the anger about the situation at bay, "What is Reuban going to do about it, huh? Clearly you're planning something otherwise you would have included me in this little meeting of yours!"
Shaking his head, he glared at her, "This is between me and my mother -"
"Yeah and me!" Amy shot back, gripping onto his elbow to get his full attention, "You don't get that do you? This decision also affects me and our kids, Ricky!"
Ricky sighed again, "I know that but -" blowing a long breath from his cheeks and touching her hand, "I asked for time. I need time. Can you just give me a little more time, Amy? Please?"
"Fine..." She relented with a frown, grabbing two of John's favorite action figure toys, a pair of pajamas from the bed and a stuffed animal from the crib, a warning in her tone, "But you're going to call our kids tonight before bedtime and let them hear your voice because I can't take one more night of our son crying because his daddy doesn't want to see him!" Glancing down at the items in her hands, she let a mumble pass her lips, "He's been through enough already..."
Hearing it, he nodded slowly and wrapped his left arm around her shoulders, placing a soft kiss on her temple, "Okay... I will. 7, I'll call at 7. Promise."
Picking up one of the discarded action figures from the floor, his lip tipped up slightly at the idea of his son flying them around the apartment and giggling, letting his imagination run wild with these plastic toys he loved so much. He never understood them, really; a collection of toys that gave kids the impression that these random people could make the world a better place; that misfits could save everyone.
That wasn't true though, nobody - not even Batman himself - could fix his father. No superhero could do anything to help him and it was a childish idea to even believe they could. But John, in all his 3-year-old innocence, believed that these plastic ragtag toys could help him. So he gave him his three favorite ones to keep with him at the apartment in case he got scared in the middle of night.
He flipped Spiderman over his hands, thinking back to his own childhood when he played with toys like these - until his father broke them all in a fit of rage and used them as weapons to hurt him; his strangled screams ringing in his ears.
Shaking the thoughts away, he glanced down at the figures again, before the door opened suddenly and his son's excited shrieking filled his ears instead. "Daddy!"
Letting the toy fall from his hand, Ricky wasted no time in catching him, and squeezing him tightly with peppered kisses against his hair, "How you doin', buddy, I missed you!"
"Dadadadaaaa!" Emma babbled aggressively, shooting her arms towards them to be included in their reunion.
Putting John down on his feet, he went over to them, wrapping both his arms around them tightly. Amy touched his bicep, giving a relived sigh into his embrace, "You okay?"
Giving one more quick squeeze, he laxed his arms and nodded, pecking her lips sweetly, "Thanks for giving me space to think, I know how hard it was for you."
Holding onto his bicep she trailed her nails softly against his skin, comforting him, "Of course." Putting their squirmy child on the floor, she motioned to the kitchen with a nod of her head, "Did you decide what to do?"
"I think so. But I want to talk to my mom first - see what she wants to do... she's just as much a victim as I am - or was." He blew out a breath, taking a seat at the table, drawing an imaginary pattern into it.
"We stopped by her place before we came here - " She paused, taking out three large containers of food, followed by a plate of food wrapped in aluminum foil. "Kathleen insisted everyone take leftovers because she didn't want to leave anyone out - even Margaret and Shakur."
Taking the plate from her hands, he nodded and smiled at Kathleens kindness. "How is my mom? I haven't seen her since the other night when she left for her meeting..." Tapping the digits on the microwave, he grabbed the pot of cold coffee on the counter and dumped it out.
Putting the containers in the fridge, "She's trying... she just doesn't know how to react, or what to do really..." She sighed and put her hand on his shoulder, giving a small squeeze, "She's having the nightmares too, you know? Afraid that... he's going to find her, and -" She paused, not wanting to speak further on the subject as little eyes peered at them.
"What are you doing up?" She whispered through the darkness, seeing the silhouettes shadow from the street light peeking through the curtain. His back was turned, lost in thought or just staying silent because he didn't know what to say. She heard the screams overtaking him while he tried to sleep, but thought it best to leave him be and not press on that subject. It was hard enough on him when John heard him and became so terrified he wouldn't even come near him before Amy left for the guesthouse, that she didn't want to add any unnecessary stress to his life.
Taking a seat next to him, Nora reached forward to grab his hand, which startled him and he jolted, recoiling against her touch. "It's okay, it's just me." She comforted, leaning forward to see the tears rolling down his cheeks. Sighing, she tried again, this time successful in grasping his hand, her voice soft, "It's okay to be scared, Ricky. You don't have to fight it... or hide it..." giving his hand a gentle squeeze, she made sure her eyes were level with his, "But listen to me, okay? I am not ever going to let him hurt you again." Her lip started to wobble, "I couldn't protect you back then, but I'm damn sure going to protect you now... even if I have to kill that bastard to do it..."
Ricky sighed, raking his hands through his hair and breathing through his nose to combat the anger she knew he was feeling but couldn't release because of the little eyes looking directly up at him from the floor.
The microwave beeped, and his mouth started to water having not had much to eat those past 8 days, too distraught and frazzled to even be hungry. But now he was, and the loud grumble from his stomach was evidence of that and he was going to savor every bite of it.
He felt a tug on his pant leg, the clingy child perched perfectly inbetween his feet to prevent him from moving. She giggled softly and went to retrieve his meal for him, setting it down on the table and handing him a glass of water. He smiled at her sweetly, gesturing to their baby trying to eat his shoelaces under the table before pulling his foot back, causing her to whine in protest.
"Uh-oh!" Emma tugged harder on the jeans by his ankle, trying to crawl further under the chair to get the shoelace back to no avail as it was too far back for her to go without getting stuck. They stifled their laughter at hearing her tiny little baby huff, knowing they soon would have a feisty little diva on their hands. Adjusting on all fours, she wobbly lifted herself up into a standing position and ushered a squealy, "Hi! Hi!" from under the table, latching onto his legs to steady herself.
Putting the fork down, and craning his neck, his grinned widened, bopping his princess on the nose playfully, "Hi, baby girl," and holding out his hand. Through gibberish baby babble, Emma managed to hoist herself halfway up his body, determined to situate herself on her daddy's lap and take up his attention. And with her mommys help, she did just that, squirming on his lap while patting the stubble on his chin with her tiny hand, eyeing the food in front of her eagerly.
Taking notice of the way their daughter's eyes grew like saucers and her breathing started to quicken when he picked the fork up, he chuckled and gave her a bite, eliciting a squeal in return. "You're just like your mommy - always wanting my food, huh?"
Amy playfully shoved his shoulder, scooping some mashed potatoes onto her finger with a smirk. "They had a good time." Tucking one of the baby's curls behind her ear, while she fed her the contents she stole, "It was nice to just forget about everything for awhile."
"So what you're saying is it was drama free then?"
"No, no definitely not" She scoffed, drumming her fingers against her check, with a scrunched expression on her face, "Okay - I need to tell you something, but you have to swear not to tell anyone..." Shrugging, he nodded. Eyes widening, her lips pursed as she stated, "Grace is -" motioning with her hands over her stomach for emphasis.
His brow furrowed, "Grace fell?"
Raising her brow at his response, "No, she's -" she shook her head quickly, repeating the gesture with more of a curve around the end of it. His lips pursed, still not piecing together the information she was trying to tell him. "Seriously?" Putting her hand on her hip, she stuck her fingers out in front of his face, "Why do I want you to get a -" now making a snipping motion so he would understand.
"Oh..." He mumbled, before his eyes widened at the news, nearly choking on his food, "Oh, whoa, wait - seriously?" She nodded. "And nobody knows this?" She nodded again. "What about that singer guy she met -" His mouth went agape at her face telling him the answer without speaking it aloud, "... Wow... that's - that's alot."
"Yeah, and here we thought having two unplanned pregnancies in high-school, would deter our friends from doing the same thing." She giggled through a sigh, looking down at her butterfly ring, "She asked me if I'd be there... when she tells Kathleen"
He looked up at her, "Are you?"
"I feel like I need to be - is that weird?" Taking a seat next to him, "Grace was there for me a few times when I was pregnant, and it's going to be hard enough... she shouldn't have to do it alone." Looking down at her ring again, her voice got smaller, "I only wish someone would have done the same for me when I told my mom..."
Lowering his head in guilt, Ricky blew a breath from his cheeks, "Have you heard from her?"
Biting her lip, Amy shook her head slowly, "No... she didn't show up, and still isn't answering my calls, so..." grabbing his almost empty plate and going to the sink, she rinsed if off, "Should I even attempt to invite her to Emma's birthday party? I mean I know she's not particularly fond of me, but you'd think she would at least make an effort for her granddaughter's first birthday, right?"
He shurgged, balancing the messy child on his legs to clean her up, "I don't know, I'd hope so, but Amy this is your mom. There's no guarantees with her -" Accepting the baby wipes from his girlfriend's hands, he plopped the baby on the table, fighting her combative hands to rid them and her face of the mess she made on herself, "But it's her loss if she doesn't, huh?"
Smiling sweetly at them, "I can't believe she's going to be one."
"Me neither. Time is definitely flying." His lip tipped up slightly at her playing with his hand.
"Uh-huh. Soon she'll be walking and saying Mama -" Amy giggled, clapping her hands to get her to mimic, "Right, Ma - Ma-ma!"
"Mine!" Emma squealed back, aggressively tugging at his hand to chew on.
"Almost! But try ma! Ma - ma!"
Throwing his hand down, she shrieked "Jon!"
"That's not even close!" She huffed playfully, lowering her head in mock defeat.
Ricky chuckled, putting his hand over Emma's face to make her giggle, "Face it, Ames, we've both been replaced by a 3 year old."
"I feel betrayed, peanut - I birthed you!" Tickling her arm with her finger making her squirm.
Scoffing playfully at his girlfriend, he bopped thr baby's nose, "Yeah, well, I helped make you, so -"
Little ears perked, coming into the kitchen, John's brow rose curiously as he asked, "H-ow? Em-ma jus in mommys tummy?"
Not realizing he was paying attention to their conversation, they gave each other a worried glance, knowing the stuff spinning in his head was going to send them on a quest of 100 questions. He shurgged nonchalantly, "Care to take this one, mommy?"
Opening her mouth to speak, but quickly closing it, Amy fumbled with a tupperware container on the counter, "Um, how about we have some dessert?" Popping the lid open and taking one of the desserts in her hand, "I have cookies..."
Chuckling, "Nice save - thought you wanted more open communication?"
Poking his shoulder she leaned in, trying to speak where he couldn't hear her, "I'm not telling our 3 year old where babies come from! It'll be all over the preschool by the end of the week and we'll be the parents of the toddler who told his whole class what sex is. No thank you."
"Swex?" The head tilt was back, his face now matching his confusion at this new word he was learning. His mother however was motified, clamping her hand over her mouth.
"You're blushing" Ricky laughed at her mortification, sliding his hand across her back to let her know it was okay, "It's fine, Amy, he has the attention span of a cat- he'll forget about it in a few minutes, an hour tops." Hoisiting the babbling baby off the table to her feet, he motioned for his son to join them, knowing if anything could get that boys mind off of something, it was his sister. "Hey, buddy - grandma Margaret was cleaning out her basement and brought some of your old toys over - why don't you and Emma go play with them while I talk to mommy for a minute?"
Without hesitation, John nodded quickly "O-k", and scurried over, "C-mon Em-ma lwets go p-lay wit the toys!" Gently picking his sister up and walking over to the blanket by the couch.
Waiting until they were content with their toys, Ricky tapped the table with his knuckles and reached for her hand, drawing her over to him and kissing her palm softly, "I'm sorry. I know this week has been rough for you. You're just trying to help and be there for me, and I'm pushing you away." Leaning his head on her hip, "I'm sorry, Amy. I really am." Letting a tear roll down his cheek as he wrapped one arm around her waist, "All of this - this mess... is just really confusing, and it's causing me to feel so many things... and I just got sucked into this vortex of anger and resentment -" Sniffling, "I didn't want you to see me like that... You don't deserve it."
Taking his hands off her body, Amy sighed tiredly, taking a seat on his lap, stroking his curls with her fingers sweetly, "You didn't deserve what happened to you, Ricky. And if you need space to process things, I understand..." caressing his cheek with her thumb, "... but in order for our relationship to be better than it was before, I want you to be honest with me." He sighed into her touch, closing his eyes. She kissed his forehead, "You don't have to tell me every detail of the hell you endured - but at least let me in enough to be able to be there for you and help you through this, okay? You're not alone anymore, Ricky. I'm here for you. And this decision doesn't just effect you -" She paused, glancing at their baby aggressively babbling at her brother before bringing his chin up to meet hers, "We have to think of Emma and John in this too, because it also effects them." Swallowing, he nodded. "So let me help you with that. Don't carry the burden alone anymore, okay?" Nodding again, he brought his hand to her cheek, kissing her. She smirked into it, leaning further to deepen it, fingering the first three buttons of his plaid shirt with a moan. Stilling her hand, she heard him giggle softly and pulled back, matching it, "What's so funny?"
He smirked, running his fingers through her ponytail, "You know Ames... the last time we were in a position like this was on my moms couch as you tried not to scream when I..."
"Ricky!" She gasped, clamping her hand over his mouth, "Your son literally just asked what sex was - don't give him a reason to ask again!"
"Hey, not my fault I know what you like..." His left hand went up in surrender, the right one running over her hip, smirk widening, "Although, my reward was much, much, better -" capturing her lips in a another kiss.
Rolling her eyes, she poked his chest, "You're just lucky the door was locked, I was heavily pregnant, and very deprived."
Waggling his eyebrows, "Uh-huh, don't act like you didn't enjoy it."
Smiling down on the little being inside her, "Mine too", she pecked his cheek. "You still owe me kiss!"He smirked, connecting his lips with hers lightly before deepening it. She pushed a hand through his hair, wrapping her fingers around his dark curls.
He stopped, a little out of breath, "Shouldn't we go back upstairs? Everybody is probably waiting for us…"
Her brown eyes skimmed his, her hands lying flat against his blue flannel shirt, pointer finger brushing the top button. "Nah… they can wait"
"Yeah they can wait" He smirked again before returning to her lips, his hands roaming up and down her covered back.
She broke away this time, sighing. "I really want another slice of that pie though…"
He groaned at the loss of contact, "it's all the way upstairs…"
"Yeah…" she smirked, biting the corner of her lip, "I guess it'll have to wait…" pressing her lips down on his again, she pulled at the buttons at the top of his flannel shirt until he pushed her hands away, bringing them back to his face.
Her nails grazed the stubble starting to form on his jaw, as his hands lowered to her backside and gave a gentle squeeze. Moaning into the kiss, she shifted her weight slightly, feeling how hard he was getting against her thigh. He groaned at the shift, needing more and deepening their kiss. Reciprocating, she removed her hand from his jaw, and grabbed his left wirst from behind her back, bringing his hand to his lap, before guiding it under her dress. He tried to slide it out, but she kept it there, eager for his participation to her advances. She hadn't been... satisfied... since before they found out about her condition, and while she wanted nothing more than to pin him to couch and go at it, she knew it was too much of a risk to the baby. She was only 9 weeks away from her due date, so intense sex probably wasn't the best idea. But... the doctor didn't say they couldn't use other... methods... to keep their romance alive.
Groaning, she moved her southern hemisphere more into him, pressing down on his hand for more, hoping he'd take the hint. Breaking their kiss, he glanced down at his hand under his wife's body, before looking back up into her eyes, knowing what she wanted. "Should we?" He swallowed slowly, apprehensive to start something that might harm her or their baby.
Pushing more into the erection in his pants, she bit her lip seductively, "I don't think it'll be a problem, it's not like we're having sex..." leaning forward, her lips brushed his ear, "I really miss you..." She bit down on his lobe, taking her time knowing it drove him crazy.
She heard the barely audible groan pass his lips and smirked, feeling his finger swipe the center of the cotton she was wearing. His voice slightly husky, "If we do this... am I going to get something in return?" Cocking his brow, he swiped again, harder, feeling the moisture starting to gather in preparation. "Amy?" He moved the cotton over, slipping one finger in. Her body went rigid for a split second. "Ames?" Thumb starting to circle her sentsive bud very slowly.
She moaned into his neck, "Mhmm," as she felt a shift and he added another finger - those magic fingers - taking his time stroking her. Her hand immediately grabbed his curls, tugging hard at the speed increase at her rushed, "more - ah - fast -" gyrating and grinding down on his hand, "Ahh- Ahh!" He chuckled before smashing his lips to hers, bringing her over the edge when he added a third finger and his thumb rotated the circles, knowing she'd be screaming in just another minute. When she yanked his head back by his hair, breaking their kiss, her head fell back and her movements slowed, letting the wave of pleasure encase around her as the lower muscles squeezed and contracted around his fingers.
Giving her a minute to catch her breath before he slipped his hand out from under her, and wiped her juices off on his pant leg, he smirked, "Better now?" Her head was still bent back, eyes closed as she nodded slowly. After another 30 seconds, she shifted off his lap, wasting no time in unhooking his belt buckle, unzipping his pants, and sliding her hand into the waistband of his boxers. Stilling her wrist with his hand, his eyes were clouded, biting the tip of his lip, "I was thinking... maybe something else..." Her eyes lifted to his, getting the gist of what he was asking.
"Seriously?" She giggled softly, gesturing to her larger frame. He shrugged with a coy smile, playing with her fingers. Rolling her eyes, she removed her hand from his and slid down to the floor, positioning herself as comfortably as she could as to not hurt the baby or her own back, and running her hands along the denim of his jeans, pulling them down just enough for him to release a relieved breath. She giggled again, rolling her eyes playfully at him already being prepared.
Gripping his thighs with her nails, she pushed herself up slightly and took him into her mouth, reveling in the low moans escaping his lips that only increased with each stroke of her tongue. He was always alot quieter during sex than she was, getting his satisfaction across with deep kisses, low moans and groans, or his hands roaming in a frenzy all over her body, while he chanted her name in panted breaths - "Amy - Amy -", Like he was doing right now, throwing his head back against the cushion at her tongues slow, torturous flicks and swirls. She always did like to torture him that way; taking as much time as she could before he came undone.
Licking his lips at the way she was biting her thumbnail and batting her lashes, reliving the same moment playing in his head, he threaded his fingers through hers, "Tell me the truth - you ever want to go back to that time and fix anything?"
"Like what?"
"I don't know exactly... maybe talk things out more so it wouldn't have resulted in fighting all the time? Like maybe... if we tried harder back then we -"
Stopping him with a kiss, Amy traced the outline of his jaw with her finger, "If I could go back and change anything - I wouldn't. Even with all we've went through... it got us here." Smiling as she glanced at their kids again, "It got us to right here - together - in our apartment, watching our kids play together - what more could we ask for?"
Biting the edge of his lip at her 'our apartment' and not 'the apartment' line of her statement, Ricky kissed her again, slower. Giving her the opportunity to reach over slowly and try to grab the slice of pie a few inches away while he was occupied. Seeing her plot in the corner of his eye, he smirked against her lips and inched his hand in the same direction, grasping her wrist with a chuckle, "Pretty sure it was pie that got us on my moms couch last year..."
Pursing her lips, "Mhmm - or it was the wishbone -" She jumped off his lap, racing to the green bag on the counter with a shy smile.
He raised a brow curiously, "You didn't?"
"I did!" Nodding excitedly and pulling a plastic baggie from the fabric bag, cocking her brow tongue in cheek, "Rematch?"
Scoffing, he ran his fingers over the stuble on his chin, "Bring it. And when I win, my wish will be that you find a new birth control so I don't have to get my junk cut open."
She shrugged, "Your choice..." Holding the bone out to him. He raised his brow, skeptical of her nonchalant response, before taking hold of the side opposite hers, "Ready? One... two... three..." Hanging his head when the bone snapped and he was left with the shorter portion. Twisting the larger portion, she smirked smugly, "You were saying?"
Rolling his eyes, "I should have expected that." Chuckling into his hand and looking up at her, "What did you wish for?"
Giving a little side shrug, "... guess you'll have to wait and see?" She patted his shoulder before sauntering into the livingroom, kneeling to play with their children.
He clicked his tongue, twirling the snapped piece of bone around his fingers with a smile at the love of his life, showering their daughter in ticklish kisses that made her squeal loudly. Thankful for this moment, and thankful he came to his senses to be able to witness it.
See you all in 2025 for the FINAL 3 CHAPTERS! We're almost there friends! ;)