Hormotional

by K. S. Adkins

In Ram’s handwriting, it said:

  “Fuck,” I sniffed as manly as possible then tagged Ram by the neck to pull him to me. “Thought I already was, kid.”

  Gently pushing her envelope forward, Lizzy said through her own tears, “Open it.”

  With my free hand, I did and what I read shifted the ground from under my feet.

  “You sure?” I asked him, clutching the adult adoption papers tightly. Having their love was gift enough, but being his dad legally, too? My heart was so full in that moment it nearly exploded.

  “Ma will take your name someday,” he hinted. “I’m thinking I should, too.”

  “Fuck,” I groaned, tagging him again. “Means the world, kid. Sorry, I’m feeling hormotional.”

  And fuck was I ever. I had never known a man could be this happy and had no clue how to handle it until Destiny said, “So I’m three months pregnant,” and Lizzy fell off my lap onto the floor and my focus switched.

  “Ma!” Ram panicked and disengaged from Destiny to get to her.

  “I’m good,” she said, climbing to her feet. “We’re going to be grandparents?”

  “Yeah,” Ram said, holding his mom and his girl. And all my emotions came back online when Ram pulled me in, too.

  We were truly a family. A growing family.

  “Everyone does shots except Destiny!” Lizzy announced. Well-wishes were passed on, and a lot of liquor was consumed. The guys bailed after cake, Rambler and Doris went to their RV to rest, which left Lizzy and I with the kids. Okay, not kids, adults who were now having a kid. I really needed to work on that.

  While the females planned the baby shower, Ram and I went down to the garage for a beer.

  “Ram,” I said, getting serious. “I love you; you don’t have to make shit legal, I know it in here.” I showed him by tapping my chest.

  “Never had a dad,” he said quietly. “I know I’m grown, having a kid of my own, but I want a dad, Luke. You, I want you to be my dad, legally. I want my kid to have your name, too. Carry shit on.”

  “Honored,” was all I could say.

  “Same,” was his reply.

  Two days later, I made up some shit I had to do and Lizzy was too busy with the guys tearing apart a pickup to question it. Signing in, showing my ID, and then being led to my seat, I wait for him to take his. He masked his surprise by going on the offensive. I didn’t bitch about it because I got it. I also didn’t much give a shit how he felt either.

  “Gave them everything,” he said. “So why are you here? Lizzy okay?”

  With this prick it was always about Lizzy, and coming here, I decided, was a stupid thing to do.

  “Yeah, she’s good,” I assured him. “Ram’s good, too, in case you were wondering.”

  Ignoring my jab, he said, “Then to what the fuck do I owe this visit?”

  “You’re going to be a grandpa,” I said, while reaching into my pocket, placing Destiny’s sonogram flush against the window. Every emotion a man could have crossed Jon’s face in a matter of seconds, but just like that, they were gone.

  “No, Temple,” he said, rapping his knuckles on the table twice before pushing out of his chair. “You are.”

  But he said this with a smile on his face. Nodding to me once, he turned and left.

  Jon died in prison exactly one week later.

  I was cleaning Luke’s computers off like I did every Saturday morning. Since he moved his business into the spare room I was never using, I came in on Saturdays and cleaned it for him because I was amazing.

  He had so much equipment with wires running everywhere I only dusted lightly, hoping not to unplug anything. When his keyboard was done, I was about to dust the monitor when the screen lit, showing a split view of the garage.

  It wasn’t current because the monitor shows an empty garage and mine’s full.

  Ready to pull away and get back to work, I stop breathing when I see myself enter the picture. I watched as I walked to the bench, grabbed the whiskey and sat on the concrete.

  Fuck, this was…He had an actual footage!

  Cool!

  Searching for the volume, I found it and turned it up.

  While it cued, I wondered how many nights he hid himself away in here to torture himself with this video.

  And seeing it here on his computer, I know he did. Because more than once, he’d come in here alone, citing he had work to do, and when he finally came out was always shaken.

  Luke would find me, latch on to me, and fuck me damn near into a coma.

  Hell, I’d caught Ram ‘working’ in here, too. And when he accidentally broke the window, I bought his lie that the mouse slipped. Oh, how my guys had suffered...

  There was so much I didn’t remember and Luke refused to spill, stating no good could come of it.

  But I needed to know for me.

  So, of course, I clicked play.

  When I saw my reaction to hearing Jon’s voice, it likely mirrored the one I was having right now.

  “God dammit!” Luke shouted from behind me then rushes forward to shut it down. “Lizzy, no!”

  “Wait!” I shout, slapping his hands away. “I need to know, Luke,”

  “No, you don’t,” he said, shaking his head. “You lived it, and I’ll be fucking damned if you’re going to watch it.”

  “Watch it with me,” I begged him. “We can watch it together.” You know, like movie night...

  “Fuck, Lizzy, I can’t…”

  “Together,” I promised him. “Besides,” I smiled going for comedy. “We both know how it ends.”

  “Not funny,” he growled at me.

  Clicking the mouse to continue the video, Luke snapped as soon as he heard my voice. “I fucking said no!”

  Since cementing our relationship, I made a conscious effort to be less boss like and more understanding. But not with this. “Either you sit here and watch it with me so we can move past it or—” I pointed at the door— “leave.”

  “Just tell me why you want to watch it.”

  “Because I want to see how I looked swinging a mallet?”

  When he paled, I almost laughed, almost. “You want to see how you look swinging a mallet?”

  “Yes,” I said softly. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  Shaking his head, he sat. Pulling me into his lap, he placed his hand over my heart. Kissing him on the cheek, I whispered, “Thank you.” And he resumed the video.

  When Iggy stabbed me the first time, I felt my side tingle in memory. The second time was the same, except I was more aware of Luke’s struggle to hold it together than watching the events of that day. The slash across the chest was so viciously done, I gasped. For some reason, I didn’t remember this happening as it did, and the brutality caught me off guard. I was a staggering, stumbling, bleeding wreck, and I knew my time was up when I hit the floor. Seeing the beating I took, I was super proud I lasted that long. Because fuck, Iggy sliced and diced me...

  I’d only gotten one hit in during the whole thing. I was disappointed in my performance. Sure, I could use booze as an excuse, but there was no two ways about it. I got my ass kicked.

  Sprawled on the ground, I watched him taunt me as I lay dying. But when he said he would hurt Ram, I lost my mind. And quite literally came up swinging.

  “Fuck,” Luke wheezed, watching me fight my way to standing and getting the mallet. Tightening his grip around me, both of us watched me approach Iggy.

  Luke growled loud when I strike.

  “Go ahead and say it, I’m kind of a badass,” I said, then winced as my body slammed into the concrete. Only this time, I wasn’t getting back up.

  I watched Jon pull me to him, and I remember knowing this was it, and how I wished I was in Luke’s arms.

  Then like a prayer, he burst into the room.

  Stunned, I watched it play out. Luke tearing me away from Jon, my blood covering everything. Luke begging me to fight, to live, and to come b
ack. My back arching up and blood spurting out of me like a geyser and finally whispering my son’s name.

  Blinking at the monitor was all I could do. Luke was losing it, and it took Haines and his men, to restrain him so they could help me. I’d never seen Luke, or anyone, this far gone. While I was digging my nails into his arm, I watched him grunt on video, “I’m good.” And the men released him. As only a professional could, he slid his gun out, and shot Iggy six times point blank.

  “Oh my God,” I wheezed out and turn to face him. “I stand corrected. You are such a badass.” And then I gave him the biggest smile I could. Luke didn’t return it because he was watching the medics trying to bring me back and failing. Cutting the video, I look at him and whispered, “I died, Luke.”

  “Yeah.”

  “In your arms.”

  “I know, Lizzy.”

  “You killed Iggy and saved me.”

  “I killed Iggy,” he said while looking away. “But I didn’t save you.”

  “I died at the hospital three times more, Luke.”

  “I know, Lizzy.”

  “But I came back.” I said, but he still won’t look at me. “I came back, Luke.”

  “I fucking know, Lizzy.”

  “You’re not okay. You act like you are, but you’re not. So, what will it take, what can I do to make it okay for you?”

  Closing his eyes, he grated out, “Don’t leave me, baby.”

  Wrapping myself around him, I promised, “I won’t, Luke.”

  “Don’t go anywhere without me.”

  “Okay, Luke.”

  “The cameras stay on at all times.”

  “Fine, Luke.”

  “No more tools as weapons.”

  “No promises on that one.”

  Raising his head, he let out a chuckle before whispering, “Love you, baby.”

  “I love you, Agent Temple.”

  “Marry me.”

  “Took you along enough to ask,” I winked as the tears filled my eyes.

  “I wasn’t asking,” he said, clutching my ass in his hands.

  Right here on our office chair, we stripped each other naked with Luke hyperaware of my (healing) injuries. I rode him while he worshipped me. When our mouths weren’t busy, I talked dirty, I talked sweet, and I told him I loved him at least a thousand times. We came together, staying fused because neither was ready to break the connection.

  With my arms around his neck, I kissed his lobe. When I whispered, “Yes, I’ll marry you,” in Luke’s ear, it was my turn to wipe his tears.

  Four months later...

  I had just dropped Ram off after a long drive from Memphis and could not wait to get home to my woman.

  Hating every second we were apart, I drove home breaking every law man had made.

  Parking in the lot, I entered through the garage, and touched base with the guys. When Lincoln wouldn’t stop smirking, I asked, “What’d she do?”

  “Nothing,” he coughed and all three started laughing.

  “Pricks,” I muttered, hiking my bag up and hitting the stairs.

  Stepping inside, immediately I smelled Lizzy’s cooking. Fuck, but she made good spaghetti.

  She also had candles lit, soft music playing, and was humming to herself, unaware I was back.

  Taking in the room, my heart swelled like it always does when it comes to her.

  My Lizzy, she missed me.

  When my arms circled her waist, she whirled around, looked up with bright eyes. “Honey, you’re home!”

  First, Lizzy didn’t call me honey. Second, she looked guilty. Of what? I didn’t know.

  “What did you do, baby?”

  “I don’t appreciate your tone,” she mumbled while glancing down at her feet.

  “Lizzy...”

  “I made spaghetti,” she said, perking up. “Let’s eat.”

  “Give me ten to take a shower,” I said, kissing her on the forehead. Grabbing my bag, I was heading toward the bathroom when she blocks me. “You drove straight through,” she said, trying to pull me back. “You should eat. Now.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Uh huh,” she nodded, and the guilt was coating her. I picked her up and set her in the living room. When I hit our bedroom, I take one look at it and freeze.

  “Lizzy...” I called out. “Get your sweet ass in here and explain this to me.”

  Shuffling like a kicked puppy, she entered the room looking anywhere but at me.

  “I made garlic bread, too,” she said, ringing her hands nervously.

  “Why is my boot sticking out of my TV screen?”

  Her answer to this was a shrug. “Cat got your tongue?” I asked and she kept shrugging.

  “Last week, you smashed your hair dryer for being too hot, tossed the laundry down the steps because the towels were wrinkled, and ordered a new oven because the one you already had didn’t cook evenly. So, I’m curious, what in the fuck did my seventy-seven inch, state of the art television do to you?”

  Biting her lip, she tried to bolt when I took her in my arms. “Lizzy, talk to me.”

  Sighing, she said, “I hate football.”

  “I know,” I agreed. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “It was on TV.”

  “So? Change the channel.”

  “Couldn’t find the remote,” she whispered.

  “There’s a button on the side, you can press it and it shuts off.”

  “Oh,” she winced. “I didn’t know that...”

  God, she was cute when she felt bad. And clearly, she felt terrible. I couldn’t be mad at her. I mean, I could but she couldn’t help it. Spending all of my time with her, it didn’t take a genius to see how difficult menopause was for her.

  Normally, she was sweet and laid-back. Yes, she was mouthy regardless, but she was simply feisty. But when her emotions took hold, look the fuck out. Lizzy could cause mass destruction with very little prompting.

  She’s punched a toaster, bludgeoned a tomato into a crime scene, flipped off drivers, kicked their cars if they parked wrong, and made a few cashiers cry. But once the mood passed she always felt remorseful. Always.

  And fuck me, did she make life interesting. I wouldn’t change it for the world.

  “Did you have a hormotional moment, baby?”

  “I’m sorry, Luke,” she said hesitantly but sincerely. “Are you still hungry?”

  Dipping her back, I kissed her neck promising, “Yeah, Lizzy, I’m still hungry.”

  And no sooner was dinner consumed, when our guys carried up my new TV.

  One month later...

  Bent at the knees with an ice pack on the back of my neck, I cursed mother nature, Mother Teresa, and Mother Goose.

  Hell, I cursed every mother I could think of.

  Because the thing about menopause, damn near everything triggered hot flashes.

  All I wanted was to try on a few wedding gowns without sticking to them. I wanted this moment with my mom and Destiny to be special. And what was I doing?

  Sweating all over the damn place.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, straightening up and plastering on a smile. “I’ll stop bitching about itchy cheap material and the fact that not one of these gowns are age appropriate. Because hello! Women in their forties get married, too!” When I was met with blinks, and my mom biting her knuckle, I announced, “This is supposed to be fun. So, let’s have fun!” God, I sounded fake...

  Digging in her bag, Destiny handed me a travel mug and said, “I thought you might need this.”

  I flicked the lid back to take a sip and nearly started crying. “Vodka soda? Oh, my God, Des...I love you so much.”

  I hugged her tight which made her giggle. “I did it so you’ll babysit.”

  “Smart,” I praised her. “Ram chose well, honey.”

  “You are going to make a wonderful mother,” my mom said while beaming at Destiny.

>   “I’m learning from the best,” she smiled at the two of us.

  “Now about this dress,” mom said, taking me in. “It’s too white and fluffy.”

  “It doesn’t stretch,” I complained. “Why doesn’t it stretch? I have to eat!”

  “And it does nothing for your boobs,” Destiny added.

  While we verbally destroyed every dress I tried on, I drank from my travel mug, loving every minute of it.

  Our hostess continued to bring in gown after gown, and finally, two hours later, I reached for the last one. I immediately knew, “This is it.”

  With their help, I slid into it, zipped up the side, and turned to face the mirror.

  “Oh,” I said, stunned at how beautiful I looked. But maybe it wasn’t the gown at all. Maybe l simply wore love well.

  “It’s perfect,” Destiny began to cry. Poor girl was dealing with her own brand of hormones these days.

  And when I looked at my mom, she soothed me like she always did with her words. “Luke will love tearing it off of you, Lizzy.”

  Mom was right, he totally would.

  Later that night, I was sharing a booth with Luke at our joint bachelor party.

  When Ram was a baby, Jon used to tell me I needed girlfriends for playdates and such.

  He felt I was missing out only spending time with men, even though he loved those men like I did.

  I gave his words consideration, but never once followed through on them.

  Because my guys were everything to me, to us.

  Sure, after Jon passed and Ram got older, I thought about it a time or two, but I was a single mom raising a curious son and running a business. Plus, I was a gearhead, so fitting in was always a concern.

  For me, the guys filled all my voids. Still did to this very day and always would.

  So, when Diesel raised his glass and boomed, “To Lizzy and Luke,” my glass flew from my hand crashing a few feet behind me, and I let my tears of happiness fall. Because staring straight into my eyes, the man who loved me said, “To my baby,” and hauled me straight onto his lap. I hug his neck and replied, “To my Luke.”

  “Love you, Lizzy.”

  “Love you, too.”