Chapter 54: Choice

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Brett

It was Friday night. I had just gotten home from a football game -- the first game that my parents hadn't attended. My mother told me they couldn't make it. No reason, no bullshit excuse for me to laugh at. Just that they couldn't make it.

We won the game and I went home. As soon as I stepped through the door I could feel that something was off. The house was too quiet -- no music playing, no muffled voices from the TV. There was just ... nothing.

I walked into the kitchen looking for my parents. I checked the family room. The basement. Den. Living room. Backyard. Couldn't find them anywhere. Finally when I made my way upstairs, I could hear their voices coming from behind the closed door to their master bedroom.

Their voices were what stopped me dead in my tracks; what made my blood run cold.

"You were with her." My mother was crying as she spoke.

"Lynn, I --"

"How many times."

I was confused. Standing there with my ear pressed against the door, I had no idea what they were talking about.

Part of me wishes it would have stayed like that.

"A few," my father had reluctantly admitted.

"A few?" My mother scoffed. A second later I heard something break. Later, I found the remnants of a framed photograph displaying a picture of them on their wedding day.

Then it was silent again. The kind of silence where I found myself missing the yelling.

"Why?" My mother asked after a moment. I could hear her voice break as she said the word.

"It just ... happened. It was a mistake that won't happen again, Lynn. I promise you that."

And then it dawned on me that my father was cheating and I felt a part of myself harden and become replaced with something colder.

My mother laughed, a maniacal sound. "A mistake that happened a few times, Will." I could hear footsteps before my mother spoke again, her voice lower this time -- sadder. "I won't let you ruin our family. Brett ... This will destroy him," she whispered the last part I barely heard it through the door.

My father promised; promised that him cheating was a one time thing that wouldn't happen again; promised that he loved our family enough to stay loyal to my mother; promised he wouldn't so much as look at another woman ever again.

I ran to my bedroom and quietly shut the door. My parents didn't know that I overheard them, that I knew about my father's cheating. So I pretended not to know and remained oblivious. I watched with knowing eyes as my mother and father secretly tried to move past his betrayal and act as if their marriage wasn't falling apart.

Until two weeks later when he cheated again. From that day on, I couldn't look at my father the same way again.

That was the same day he went from being my Dad to being my Father.

* * *

"Get out," I growled.

My heart was beating too fast. I could feel my hands trembling at my sides. Even when Becca held them in her own, they wouldn't stop shaking.

I couldn't move. I couldn't think.

He was back.

He was back and he was here and he was touching my mother. His hand was on her waist as if she were some toy of his to play with to his own pleasing -- to throw away when he was done with it and then go back for more.

I didn't glance at my mother. I refused to see the pity in her eyes, begging me to just listen and give him another chance. He had too many fucking chances and he threw away every single one of them.

He was watching me -- seizing me up. Waiting to see if I would hit him like last time.

I wouldn't, I thought. This time I would do much, much worse.

What I wanted to do was give into my red hot rage and slap his hand off my mother's waist, throw his ass out the door and threaten him to stop toying with my mother's heart. But what I did do was take a small step to my right, blocking Becca from his view.

I didn't want my father to look at her, speak to her, nothing. He didn't even deserve to be in the same room as her.

"Get. Out." I repeated, stressing each word, my voice dangerously low with an unspoken warning.

Neither of them moved. My mother's gaze met the floor as my father continued to stare at me, his hand holding my mother's waist a little tighter.

He opened his mouth to speak and I lunged at him. My mother's screaming filled the air as two gentle arms wrapped around my torso, holding me back. In a single twist I could have broken free and given my father what he deserved. It would have been so easy.

But I didn't. I gave into Becca's embrace -- into her love, her kindness, her warmth. And I let it hold me there, hold me back from turning into the version of myself I hated.

"Brett," Becca whispered from behind me, anchoring me back down. Her voice somehow managed to pull me back. Always. "Don't do this," she continued, her arms still wrapped firmly around my waist.

I opened my eyes and my mother was crying, her shoulders hunched over as tears trailed down her face. Her eyes once blue were now red. She looked small, fragile ... afraid. I wanted to feel bad for her -- I wanted to feel anything. But I couldn't. She had let this happen one too many times and I was sick and tired of dreading coming home every day just in case my father was sitting in the kitchen. Just in case my mother told me he was back for good.

I couldn't live like this anymore.

I used to deal with it because I knew nothing else. The pain, the fear, the sadness, it was a constant in my life. My father would come home. My father would leave. He would cheat and he would lie and he would break my mother's heart a little more each time but it never changed a damn thing because he always came back.

Now ... Now I had seen a different life. One with love, happiness. Where I look forward to waking up every morning just to see Becca's face. To see her smile. To hear her laugh. Just her fucking laugh made me feel like the luckiest guy in the entire world. Becca told me that I was strong -- that I never let my parents marriage break me. And maybe she was right, maybe I had barely held it together this past year. But truth is, being with her made me stronger. Made me want to be better, do better. She took the grey and the black and the white in my life and added little touches of herself to all of it; brightening, changing, improving.

And now, I knew I deserved better. The happiness I felt with Becca was bigger than this entire world. There was no room for pain, sadness, for fear.

Grabbing Becca's hands in mine, I unlocked her arms from my waist and turned around to face her. She was staring up at me with wide eyes that were searching my face frantically. Her lips were slightly parted, breathing hard. Messy hair, wearing my clothes that were five sizes too big ... she looked beautiful. I would have done anything for her -- given anything for her. I just wanted to protect her from all the shitty things this world had to offer.

I grabbed her face in my hands and kissed her forehead softly. My Becca. My love. My anchor.

Turning around, I grabbed her hand in mine and looked my mother dead in the eye. After a few seconds, her eyes left the floor and met mine. I ignored the sadness, the pain, and said what I should have said last year.

"I can't do this anymore, Ma. I can't. If you're going to be with him," I spat his name like the poison it was, "then I won't be here to watch it."

Becca's hand tightened in mine and I knew that she knew exactly what I was going to say next. I took a deep breath and glanced at Becca before I continued. She smiled at me sadly and that action alone gave me the strength I needed.

"It's him or it's me. You can't have both of us anymore, Mom. If he stays, I go." My mother's eyes widened at my words and when I dared a quick look at my father, his face was emotionless. "Make your choice."

And with that, I grabbed Becca's hand and lead her out of the kitchen, right past my parents while I looked through both of them.

I slammed the door to my bedroom and collapsed against it, sliding down the wood until I hit the floor and buried my head in my hands. I cried. I cried like a fucking baby -- like all the tears I had held in for the past year had finally come spilling out.

Even when Becca straddled my lap and held my head in her chest, it wasn't enough to make the tears stop. I wrapped my arms around her so tightly like she was my lifeline and without her I would forget how to breath.

"I love you," she told me forcefully, her hands gripping my face tightly. "I love you, Brett, and whatever happens we will get through it together." Her thumb stroked my cheek and brushed away a tear. "If the choice were mine, I would choose you. Everyday, I would always choose you."

I crushed my mouth to hers because she was air and I couldn't breath. Because I was the night sky and she was the stars needed to make it complete -- she was the end and the beginning and the middle and  every-fucking-thing in between and suddenly whatever my mother told me couldn't possibly matter when all I ever needed to be happy was right here in front of me.

Becca.

I didn't know if I said it or if I thought or if I moaned it but she was here and she was real and she was kissing me as desperately as I was kissing her and then it was last night and we were in my bed and she was naked and I was naked and she was vulnerable and beautiful and shining and everything and I was nothing but hers.

Nothing but hers.

I needed her. Now. Her body, her heart, her love. The timing was wrong and the situation couldn't be worse but I needed Becca in this moment and from the way she was kissing me, I knew she needed me too.

Her hands were on my bare chest, lighting a path of fire along my skin. My hands were in her hair, running my fingers through the silky strands and arching her head up closer to mine. Her tongue was in my mouth and my heart was in her palm. Becca pulled back and her face was wet -- my tears lingering on her skin. Her eyes were wild, wide and hungry as they gazed into mine and I knew she was trying to fight it -- fight her lust for me.

"Brett," she whispered, her voice low and raspy. The simple sound of it made me want her even more. Her eyes traveled down my chest and I realized my shirt was missing, not remembering it being removed. Becca's gaze landed on my lap, where she was straddling me, and her eyes widened as her cheeks reddened. She bit her lip nervously as she slowly shifted backwards, having noticed the effect she had on me.

If only she knew that biting her lip only made things a lot fucking worse.

It was selfish -- to want her like this. To want her to help me forget about my messed up family and the choices hanging in balance. But that didn't stop the adrenaline coursing through my veins or how every inch of my body was screaming Becca.

I took a deep breath and rubbed my eyes, exhaling slowly to steady my racing heart. Picking up my t-shirt on the floor, I wiped the tears off my face then brushed Becca's away with my thumb. She was watching me, her eyes analyzing my every move as the lustful daze faded and her vision sharpened.

"What if she chooses him?" I asked, voicing the thought eating me alive. Becca shook her head, her eyes searching for a moment before they returned to mine.

"Then she's an idiot," she said bluntly. I threw my head back in laughter. Idiot. I had never heard Becca swear before. She smiled too before she said, "Your mother will choose you, Brett."

"How do you know that? She chose him all these years, Becs."

"No ..." She trailed off, picking up my hand in hers and playing with my fingers as she spoke. "No, she didn't choose him. I think she chose you both. She thought that she could have you and your father, so she never had to make a choice. But now .... Now, she does. And she'll choose you, Brett."

"And what if she doesn't?"

"Then you still have me," she said with a sad smile, her palm now resting on my cheek. "We can't make people stay, Brett. We can hope that they will but at the end of the day, it's their choice. We can only hope they make the right one."

"Do you wish your father stayed?" I asked gently, holding her hands in my own. Becca chewed on her lip as she pondered the question.

"I used to," she replied after a moment, her eyes on our intertwined fingers. "I used to wish he never left. I used to imagine what my life would be like if he had stayed. But he didn't. He made his choice and no matter how hard I hope, Brett, it won't bring my father back." She let out a sigh and met her eyes to mine. "Him leaving crushed me but it made me into the person I am today -- it made me stronger. Like you did, Brett. So no, I don't wish my father stayed."

She spoke with such beauty and strength that I wondered what I ever did to have deserved her.

I leaned in and kissed her softly, lightly touching my lips to hers. "We both deserve better fathers than the ones we got, Becca."

She smiled as she rested her forehead against mine, her hands gripping my bare shoulders. "I know that. All we can do now is learn from their mistakes and be better parents than they ever were."

I pulled back and cocked an eyebrow. "Babe, are you already thinking about having kids with me?" I teased, trying to lighten the mood and erase the heaviness weighing down both of our hearts. Becca rolled her eyes and smacked me playfully.

"I was a virgin less than twenty-four hours ago, Brett. Shut up," she grumbled. Right, as if I could forget. Like us having sex last night hadn't occupied my mind all damn day. I wanted to tell her that I actually dreamt of it too, just to see her freak out, but decided against it.

"It's been a while ... Where is she?" Becca asked hesitantly. I instantly knew she was referring to my mother. I simply shrugged, the fact that it was taking her so long to decide couldn't be a good thing.

If she chose my father I would move out -- find an apartment to move into. I would cut ties to my family and I would move on with my life, start fresh with Becca. She would be my family, the only family I would need. I could picture it perfectly: waking up to her every morning, cooking her waffles and bacon and hopefully not burning it again. Waking up late to lazy morning sex and coming home to her kisses and warmth every night.

"What are you thinking about?" Becca asked impatiently, tapping my forehead with her finger.

"Morning sex," I told her casually, chuckling when her eyes widened instantly.

No matter how comfortable she became around me, no matter how many times we made love, I never wanted her to lose her shyness. Out of all things I loved about her, that was at the top of the list. If only she knew I thought her to be the most beautiful when her cheeks were blazing pink.

"Do you ever not think about sex?" She whined, giving me an incredulous look. I was surprised she even managed to say the word sex without blushing.

"I think about you. A lot."

"Yes, but you also think about me when you think about sex. What else goes on in that mind of yours?" She said sex twice in all of ten seconds. I was impressed.

I winked at her and she giggled. "I don't think you want to know, love." And I would leave it at that. I tugged on my t-shirt as she continued to laugh, probably wondering why her boyfriend was so horny all the time -- like I could help the fact that my girlfriend was attractive as fuck and I thought about being with her every second. Sue me.

Becca removed herself from my lap and stood up slowly, adjusting her t-shirt that rod up around her hips, exposing a strip of her bare skin on her stomach that my eyes instantly went to. She saw it too because she kicked me in the foot before walking towards my bed and sitting in the middle of it with her legs crossed. Before I let my mind wander back to last night, I got up myself as the sound of footsteps approaching in the hallway made my heart speed up.

Becca's eyes widened as she shifted towards the edge of the bed, her eyes never leaving my face. I walked to her quickly and grabbed her hand in mine just as the door to my bedroom opened slowly and my mother's face peeked in.

I swallowed the lump in my throat when I looked at her and Becca squeezed my hand in hers, hard.

Slowly, my mother stepped into my room and gently closed the door behind her, her hand lingering on the knob with her back to us. Her heavy breathing filled the air as none of us dared to speak.

A moment later, it seemed like she gathered up the courage she needed and turned around, smoothing out the lines in her sweater before her eyes met mine. In them, I saw the same pain and sadness that had filled mine for the past year.

I needed her to speak. Just get it over with. Just tell me you chose him so I can start packing and get Becca the hell out of this house.

My mother opened her mouth and my heart stopped. "Your father just left," she said slowly, a weak smile appearing on her face. "He's not coming back, Brett. Not anymore."

My heart burned as I ran for my mother, hugging her tightly to my chest as her sobs soaked into the cotton of my t-shirt. 

She chose me.

She chose me.

She was crying and I was crying, our sobs not full of sadness but of relief -- of hope and the opportunity to finally start fresh.

My mom pulled back and held my face in her hands, her eyes saying the words she never could. "I'm so sorry, baby. I'm sorry," she repeated those two words over and over as I held her, the tears not leaving her eyes for what felt like hours.

I felt an arm slowly touch my back and by her touch, I knew it was Becca. She was here and she was safe. My mother was here and she was safe. My father was gone -- out of my life for good this time.

And for the first time in a year, I let out a long sigh and smiled at my mother. Becca grabbed my mother's hand in hers and smiled at her too and I realized that now ... now everything would somehow be alright.

"I love you," my mother whispered to me, her eyes shining a little brighter.

"I love you too, Mom," I told her. And this time, I meant it.

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The Wells family is finally back together again. Did you guys think Brett's mom was going to choose him or his father? Let me know! Off to work, happy Sunday! <3

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