Connor bowed his head into his chest protecting his face from the constant sharp slap of cold attacking him. He balled his fists in the pockets of his hoodie, his nails dug into his palms. His fingers started to numb; but he knew if he loosened them he would also loosen his resolve.
His lips set into a grim line, his gaze cutting sharply around the dark street. No one was following; no one was even on the street in this cookie cutter neighborhood. The cloud covered moon was the only light. Glass from the few streetlights peppered the sidewalk,
probably the local teens with not enough chores, homework or discipline to keep them out of trouble.
Connor thought with an aggravated sigh as he stopped in front of his destination. He pulled his shoulders back a failed attempt to release the tension and fatigue, he stretched his neck side to side wincing as he heard and felt the cracking relief. Hurt and apprehension manifested as sharp shots of pain through his body. He couldn't tell himself he was just tired and over worked, he knew better. His tongue swelled and he tasted heavy metallic fear.
This was home, this was his home...once, and this was his family. So why was he more comfortable hanging out with "alleged" drug dealers and gun runners? Why was this suburban paradise so foreign? He looked up at the house again bile rising in his throat.
You don't belong here,
a voice chastised him,
and they told you not to come back. Why are doing this you have more important things to think about right now.
He knew jenny had a propensity for trouble; it seemed to follow her even when there was none to be had. He shouldn't have taken her word, he should have sat back and observed. He should have stayed away at least until he was done with the Melendez case.
"Stop being a fucking pussy, you've come this far" he huffed angry for letting himself get worked up. Funny he was calmer when he had guns pressed against his temple than at the possibility of seeing disappointment and fear in his mother's eyes and barely concealed hostility in his father's.
Connor gave the door three loud rapid beats. He smiled sardonically; he thought he got rid of that habit.
"What on god's green earth...?" he heard the breathless huff in his mother's voice as she opened the door. He didn't say anything, letting her soak in his presence, giving her the opportunity to embrace him or slam the door in his face. He watched trying to interpret the tears welling in wide blue eyes. Her mouth opened then closed only to open again, "my baby." she whispered with a small strangled voice.
"Hey ma," Connor tried to clear the huskiness from his voice. He couldn't manage to hide his hurt when his mom glanced around him then around the house nervously. She leaned heavily on the door, "Na-Nathan what are you doing here?" she stammered awkwardly.
He glanced away his face flushing, embarrassed and confused. "I need to talk to Jenny." He mumbled bitterly. He could never get used to this; he could never harden himself against his family's disapproval. First it was because he lacked direction, he was in constant trouble. His dad Peter Michael O'Connor was a hard man and not afraid to discipline his children. Connor got it good a few times, black eyes, busted lip broken limbs here and there. He didn't blame his dad, it straightened him out. But now...now he was on the right side of the law he didn't understand why there was the same distance, the same animosity. What could he do? How could he make this right?
"She's not here." his mother reached out to touch him and he jerked, she let her hand fall slowly as though she could still feel the ghost of his touch.
Suddenly Connor's stomach grumbled. He glanced up his cheeks warming in shame, his nose finally picking up the hearty aroma of beef, potatoes, onions, and carrots simmering in broth; and the sweet fermentation of homemade rolls.
"Are you hungry? Have you been eating? You look-" he softened slightly at his mom's concern. He sunk his fists deeper into his pockets feeling the stretch and strain of the stitches. If he pushed them any deeper he would break the seam.
"I'm good."
"If you're hungry, I mean if you want to come in."
"I should go." They said at the same time, he didn't want to hear her invite him in. He didn't want to hear that uncertain desperation in her voice, or a mother's obligation to care. His jaw locked and a vein in his throat throbbed and pulsed.
"I'm making Irish beef stew. I know how much you love-use to love..." she looked down tears threatening to spill she sniffled and sighed wringing her hands in her apron. "I don't know how to do this." She bit her lip.
"Its okay Ma, I shouldn't have come just tell Jenny it's important I need to talk to her." He cleared his throat his vision blurred.
"Nate- stay." the strain in her voice broke into him. The watery plea made him hate himself more. He never thought being a Federal Agent of the United States would cause this big a rift in his family. He understood or thought he understood they feared for his safety but why did they want to completely cut him out. Why this struggle between them?
"Ma-"he didn't want to say no, but it would probably be better if he did.
"The kids are here and they have been going on and on about you, and they wondered why you left without saying good bye." He heard the unspoken words as clear as if she said them.
"Who's at the door Becca?" Connor tensed at the terse sound of his father's voice. His gaze hardened as he noted the change in his her face. He shouldn't blame her for the sudden weariness but he felt the sting of it.
"It's..." he saw his father's shadow fall over his mother's small frame before he appeared. As he met his father's gaze he wondered if he ever saw the man smile, he looked ready for life to kick him in the nuts. He tried to read his dad's reaction but couldn't. He braced himself, maybe they would yell, maybe they would come to blows, leading to another estrangement, causing Connor to bury himself anyway he could work, drink, pussy- Alexa he would love to sink his-he stopped his thoughts surprised and frustrated with where they lead him. She should be the last thing on his mind, but she wasn't. She was always there.
His chest tightened with the air he held in his lungs.
"You'd better come in if you're staying for dinner." The older man said and walked away. He heard his mother's shaky exhale and felt his own lungs release in cautious relief. His mom stepped aside to let him through the door lightly, gently touching his arm as though she was worried he would turn around and walk away...the thought wasn't far from his mind.
***
Anger bubbled in Gauge's chest. His vision was blurred but his eyes burned molten silver as he glared down into dark hurt eyes. Bella shivered under the weight of his gaze. Her chest tight and on fire, she couldn't breath. There wasn't enough air between them in the room, in the world. Her breath came out in short shallow gasps as she fought down seizing sobs.
She read the hurt and betrayal in his eyes, beneath the consuming anger. It had been over two weeks since he was arrested. She finally built up enough courage to face him, but what little she had ignited when she was face to face with him. She cowered her shoulders hunching in a defeated but self preserving stance. She wished she could say she thought this argument would turn bloody and physical like so many with her dad. She wished she could say she thought Gauge would hurt her. But even now with his blood boiling in his cheeks and ears, even now with his hand an iron clasp over her arms violence never crossed her mind.
"Let go of me," she said softly hating the quiver in her voice that gave her away. She was afraid of giving into him, she pushed and pulled but he held her firm. "Let me go," she was panicked unable to meet the swirl of emotion in his hypnotic glare.
"Fucking look at me!" he demanded shaking her, "two weeks Bella! Two fucking weeks! I worried about you! Worried about what that junkie was doing to you!" Gauge pulled her closer his grip tightening.
"I'm okay, now let me go!" her words were strangled as her throat tightened. She wasn't okay and they both knew it. She wanted to curl into his arms begging for forgiveness, she wanted to be worthy of the love she knew he would give her. It was better if he hated her, she was no good she ruined lives and the fact that he was arrested because of her proved it. Even if her dad's claim was absurd at best, so easily disproven she was surprised he wasn't arrested for making it. She knew he was out of custody with in hours but that just proved what their life would be like if she gave in. Her dad would constantly try and keep them apart and one day he would succeed.
"Wake up Bella! One day that asshole is going to kill you"
"Gauge! Stop let her go!" Alexa appeared from nowhere, prying his hands off Janabelle. She stopped by to see if he was okay and to see if heard from Bella. She used the key he gave her when she heard yelling. Alexa walked in to find Gauge shaking Janabelle like a rag doll.
"He's my dad," her argument was weak, despairing and full of devotion pausing his anger only slightly.
"He's a fucking addict! And you're going to get yourself hurt!" his words were desperate even coated in anger. The tears she struggled to hold back sprang free. He loved her, she loved him. The realization choked her. She couldn't deny the special feelings between them. Her one credit was that she never denied that one fact. She wasn't good for him, good enough for him. The chorus repeated over and over until it drowned out any tender words he'd ever had for her.
"Gauge let her go! You're hurting her!" Alexa gasped using what little strength she had. Her words penetrated his anger and he let her go. He closed his eyes swallowing hard, he was so far gone he didn't know if he could make it back. If he kept his eyes closed maybe this last moment with Bella would last, because he knew after this they would never be the same. He couldn't hear Alexa soothing Bella or Bella's soft shaking voice trying to convince her she was alright. His heart pounded too hard, his blood rushed too fast. He couldn't hear her saying goodbye or the heart breaking finality of her words. Gauge didn't move or open his eyes until he heard the soft click of the door behind her.
