Roll With the Punches

  He’d just pulled in when Stuart’s truck turned into the parking lot.

  God, I love those two men.

  Jeff wouldn’t be able to make it today since he’d be missing enough work as it was because of going out of town to help his sister. But with the three of them living together, Jeff and Stuart made a point of trying to get to as many of Emma’s meets as they could.

  Brandon got out of his car and waited for Stuart to park and cross the lot to join him. “That was perfect timing, Sir,” Stuart said as Brandon leaned in for a kiss.

  “Sure was.”

  Emma’s car sat parked in the lot, meaning she was likely warming up already. The two of them headed inside to walk to the door leading out to the pool deck.

  It only took Brandon a moment to spot Grace in the bleachers, and they joined her there. Since Emma was usually her ride after school, if there was a swim meet, Grace was there by default.

  Despite sitting in the shade, she wore a large, floppy-brimmed hat and dark sunglasses that fit over her regular glasses. She was pale with freckles, her fair skin prone to burning easily. “Are we taking bets if her mom shows up?” she snarked.

  “How’s Em doing with that?” Brandon asked, hoping his daughter’s bestie might give him a little more info than he currently had.

  She shrugged. “She’s not talking much to me about her, either. I have to tell you, Pop, that woman’s a piece of work. I think Em’s afraid to get her hopes up. Again.”

  He’d always felt a little uncomfortable with Grace calling him “Mr. Ziegler” when she was like a second daughter to him. Likewise, she hadn’t felt comfortable calling him by his first name. When Grace had come up with the nickname for him, he’d been secretly pleased by it.

  “I can’t blame her,” he said.

  “Neither can I.” At the sound of Stuart’s dark tone, Brandon reached over and patted his thigh before lacing fingers with him. Stuart didn’t exactly have the best relationship with his family. Tracey’s poor relationship with Emma was definitely an emotional trigger for him.

  “You’ve got us,” Brandon told him.

  “Yeah,” Grace said. “And me, if I count.” She grinned.

  Stuart managed a smile for her. “Of course you count. You’re family, too, kiddo.”

  “Oh, Mom and Dad told me this morning to ask if you guys want to come over for dinner Saturday night. Dad’s trying out a couple of new recipes and needs guinea pigs.” Her father, Bill, was an amateur competitor in barbecue contests.

  No way would Brandon turn down an offer like that. Even the man’s fails were delicious.

  “Sure,” Brandon said, “but Jeff won’t be there. He’s going out of town tomorrow.”

  “Oh, that’s right. Em told me. Well, Mom said seven, bring your appetites, and wear your stretchy pants, because he’s going to grill up a storm.”

  The meet was five minutes from starting when Brandon spotted Tracey walking onto the pool deck.

  “Oh, boy,” Stuart muttered when he saw her. “Here we go.”

  Tracey walked over to them. “Can I join you?”

  “Sure,” Brandon said. There was plenty of room, so it wasn’t like they could stop her from sitting close by.

  Brandon knew it was better to take the high road. In less than two years, Emma would be eighteen, and then any troubles she had with Tracey wouldn’t really be his troubles anymore. Whether Emma patched things up with his ex-wife or cut her out of her life entirely, Brandon would still have his relationship with Emma, and he’d support her either way.

  Emma, standing on the far side of the pool deck with some of her teammates, spotted her mom and finally lifted her hand in what looked like the most noncommittal wave Brandon had ever seen in his life.

  From the way Stuart nudged him, he knew it wasn’t just his imagination.

  It had always secretly irritated Brandon that he had been the single dad, also working full-time, and yet had been the one to get Emma to most of her events after the divorce.

  Hell, even before the divorce.

  He’d even volunteered as a parent chaperone for school trips when Tracey said she couldn’t go because of her work schedule. That shit had always fallen on him.

  I guess I wasn’t a very damn good Dom in that relationship.

  Truth be told, he’d known there was trouble long before Tracey had. Maybe he hadn’t pushed her harder, had taken on more than his fair share of the load, knowing the inevitable was always just over the horizon.

  Guilt.

  Loads of it, spread all around. More every day he’d remained married to Tracey and tried to force himself to live a lie. Most of their BDSM dynamic had existed in their bedroom, and had only involved sex and a little bit of restraint, not impact play or an overall dynamic like he had with Stuart and Jeff.

  At least Emma was happy living with him now. Far happier than she’d been shuttling back and forth between their houses all the time.

  Except it hadn’t been too bad before Tracey had met and married Pat. She’d been more attentive to Emma, more there during that time. Once she’d met Pat…

  These weren’t things he’d pointed out to Emma, they were mental comments he knew were best kept to himself.

  Well, and somewhat to Jeff and Stuart, now that they were a part of his life.

  * * * *

  I think I’ve earned a cookie.

  Stuart personally thought Brandon was acting far more charitable to Tracey than she deserved. Especially after Emma had spent plenty of time bending his ear and Jeff’s and venting to them about her mom in a way he’d never really heard her talk to Brandon before.

  He also resented Tracey being there, intruding on their time with Emma. Wasn’t his fault Tracey had shitty taste in second husbands and drove her daughter off. At least she wouldn’t be there Saturday morning.

  Brandon hadn’t ordered him or Jeff to keep quiet about Tracey around Emma and Grace, but he had asked them to please exercise restraint.

  Out of respect for Brandon, they did.

  He still couldn’t believe it’d taken Tracey this long to finally show an interest in Emma’s life.

  Then again, considering his own mother had told him he was going to Hell, and he’d basically lived in fear of his secret being discovered before he’d moved to Florida, maybe it wasn’t that much of a stretch after all. At least Jeff’s family had accepted him into the fold. And Grace’s parents were amazing people, as much an extended family as Jeff’s were.

  He didn’t have much contact with Brandon’s family. Brandon wasn’t very close to his two brothers the way Jeff was with his sister. While Brandon’s parents lived locally, Brandon didn’t see them very often. Even then, usually only for things like holidays, or when they wanted to see Emma. Brandon had told him and Jeff one of the reasons he’d married Tracey in the first place was that he’d thought it’d earn him approval from his family.

  And they all knew how that had ended up.

  It took maturity and Emma’s birth to make Brandon see that the only person he could live for was himself, and he shouldn’t live his life trying to get people to give him affection they weren’t capable of giving.

  Especially not when it made himself miserable in the process.

  The meet lasted nearly two hours, and Stuart enjoyed cheering Emma on with Brandon and Grace.

  Tracey didn’t seem to understand what was going on, and Brandon apparently took pity on her, explaining the events Emma was participating in.

  Finally, when it ended, Emma rounded the pool to speak to them before heading inside to change. “Did you want to go out for dinner?” Brandon asked Emma.

  Stuart hung back with Grace, watching.

  Emma’s gaze darted to her mom, then back to her dad. “We’ve got a lot of leftovers at home. And Jeff’s leaving tomorrow. I’d rather go home. Plus I have to study for tomorrow. And I need to take Grace home first.”

  “Okay. No problem. We’ll wait for you outside.” He patted Stuart’s should
er and indicated for them to go, leaving Tracey there with Emma and Grace.

  Once they were through the doorway into the building, Stuart leaned in. “She’s not exactly warming up to her mom being here, is she?”

  “Nope. Can’t blame her.”

  “Neither can I.”

  * * * *

  Brandon knew Stuart would probably have an earful to say once they were alone, and he didn’t disappoint.

  “I’m sorry, Sir,” he quietly said so they couldn’t be overheard, “but I’m not happy she’s here.”

  “I know.” He pulled him in for a hug. “But thank you for being so good about this. I appreciate it.”

  Stuart relaxed in his arms. “This is our family,” he whispered. “She had her chance and screwed it up.”

  His poor boy. He might always bear scars from his family of origin.

  All he and Jeff could try to do was heal him with their love.

  Grace and Tracey emerged a few minutes later. Tracey hesitated, finally giving Brandon a smile. “Thanks for today.”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t do anything. She’s old enough to make up her own mind. That’s something you should remember.”

  Tracey seemed to huddle in on herself, her arms crossed over her chest, hands gripping her arms.

  She didn’t resemble the woman he’d known and thought he’d loved.

  Tried to love.

  Correction, he had loved her. He hadn’t been in love with her.

  “How do I fix this with her?”

  Brandon shrugged. “One step at a time. Without Pat in tow. The more you do that, the more she feels like you put her first, the better your chances. I can’t fight this for you, Tracey. This is all on you. You need to regain her trust. Accusing her of faking being sick when you tricked her onto that cruise that time, and then Pat took her meds from her, was pretty shitty.”

  She blushed. “I know,” she said, so softly he almost couldn’t hear her.

  “Taking Corey’s side over hers when he tried to video her without her consent was also not the right move.”

  She swallowed hard and nodded.

  “Does Pat even know you’re here?”

  She shook her head.

  “Are you afraid of him?”

  “He’s my husband, Brandon.”

  “That wasn’t an answer.” He stepped closer, forcing her to look up at him. “Were you ever afraid of me?”

  “That night you came and got Emma after we got home from the cruise.”

  “I had every right to be angry at you and Pat that night. And you know what I mean.”

  She finally shook her head.

  “So why are you afraid to stand up to Pat? You shouldn’t live in fear.”

  “It’s not that simple. He’s never hurt me. But I can’t exactly go out and make a living all on my own. Sometimes, in marriage, you have to make sacrifices.” She tipped her head up slightly, nose in the air. “It’s what responsible adults do.”

  With that, she turned on her heel and stomped off.

  Stuart stepped forward. “I feel like I should snap my fingers and say, ‘Oh, no, she did-unt.’”

  Brandon offered him a fist bump.

  Grace snapped her fingers. “Oh, no, she did-unt.”

  Brandon fist-bumped her.

  But Brandon got it. Tracey had been completely in love with him. When he’d finally come out to her and told her he was filing for divorce, it had devastated her.

  Then she’d latched on to the first prospect she’d found for her next husband. She’d taken plenty of potshots at Brandon over the past several years about him “turning gay” and leaving her, abandoning his responsibilities, even though that wasn’t exactly the truth or anywhere close to it.

  He’d given her plenty of passes, knowing she was in pain and scared and angry.

  Grace wore a dour glare as she watched Tracey march across the parking lot. “That woman doesn’t have issues—she has subscriptions. If she thinks Pat is her best chance in this world, she’s also delusional. The guy’s a freaking idiot.”

  Brandon fist-bumped with her again.

  Chapter Five

  Thursday morning, Jeff stood in “his” bedroom, staring at the stuff he’d laid out on the bed. “His bedroom” meaning that’s where his clothes and some other belongings were located, but he rarely slept in there now.

  Not alone, at least.

  Sometimes he and Stuart slept in there on the rare night Brandon was too exhausted to do more than face-plant onto his bed after work, but he and Stuart were still in the mood to have sexy fun.

  Although there had been one night Stuart had eaten Mexican at lunch and fell asleep with a massive case of the farts. Rather than wake him up, Brandon had signaled to Jeff, and they’d vacated the master bedroom in a hasty retreat to Jeff’s.

  It was that or have two bedrooms smelling instead of just one. At least the master bedroom had sliders opening onto the lanai and they could air it out more easily the next morning.

  Jeff was trying to get by with only one carryon, and tried to guess what he’d need. Shorts and T-shirts, mostly, because it would be warm up there. A pair of jeans and a button-up shirt for the plane ride, and in case they went out somewhere Friday night.

  He doubted that’d be on the agenda, but just in case, it didn’t hurt to be prepared.

  Extra pair of old jeans and a light jacket. Socks, and he’d only take the one pair of sneakers. Briefs.

  To save space, instead of taking toiletries, he would only bring his electric razor and buy everything else he’d need once they were up there. He would take his phone, tablet, and chargers for both, but not his laptop. No time for that, anyway.

  Emma had already left for the morning, but Stuart and Brandon walked in to hug him before they left for work.

  “Stay safe,” Brandon ordered. “Don’t hesitate to call 911 if something happens. Don’t be a hero. Come home safe.”

  “I promise. Sylvie is sure there won’t be any trouble. We’ll be in and out.”

  “Take no chances,” Brandon said. “That’s an order, if I wasn’t clear.”

  “That was clear, Sir.”

  “Good. Love you.” Brandon kissed the top of his head.

  “Love you, too, Sir.”

  Brandon finally released him so Stuart could hug him one more time. “Text me before you take off and when you land.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Once Jeff was alone again, he started to pack. He’d leave his truck parked at Iris and Calvin’s because a friend of hers was driving them to the airport.

  I hope we never have to go through something like this with Emma.

  Then again, Emma seemed steadfastly determined never to date. Any guy she did finally deem worthy would hopefully not be an abusive asshole.

  If he was, Jeff was sure he, Brandon, and Stuart would be stepping in and getting the guy to step off post-haste.

  Once they were finally in the air, Iris patted his hand. “So how did Jeff and Brandon take it when you said you were helping?”

  “They send their apologies they couldn’t come, too. They would have, except for work.”

  “I don’t understand why you’re with two guys, but I’m not going to question it. And Emma is a sweetheart.” Their parents had also expressed some confusion, but since they’d basically adopted Emma as the only grandchild they were likely to have for the foreseeable future, they were fine with the situation.

  “I’m a lucky guy, and I know it.”

  She grinned. “How’s the Edsel?”

  “Still some more to do to it.”

  “That thing’s so ugly. I can’t believe you wanted it.”

  He laughed. “Hey, at least I knew I wouldn’t have to fight you for it.”

  Calvin shuddered. “I think I would have put my foot down if she’d tried to bring that monstrosity home.”

  * * * *

  Thursday evening and Friday morning were a flurry of packing activity. Friday afternoon, Jeff and Calvin si
zed up the furniture they’d staged in the garage ahead of picking up the rental truck the next morning. Since the garage doors didn’t face out onto the street, it was safer to stage everything there. The longer a rental truck sat in the driveway, the greater the chance of someone seeing it and tipping off Sylvie’s husband.

  Inside, Iris and Sylvie were frantically going room by room, packing boxes and stacking them in the garage as they filled them. The hope was that by the time they got the truck, they’d have everything packed and ready to load so they could immediately leave.

  During a quick lunch break, they sat out at a picnic table in the fenced-in back yard immediately behind the house, while the dogs ran around and chased each other. Hamilton and Burr, two-year-old yellow Labs, were loving goofballs and brothers from the same litter.

  Sylvie watched the dogs playing. “This was my dream house,” she softly said. “We had our first big fight, and he apologized and actually suggested going out house-hunting. When I saw this place, I fell in love with it, and he bought it for me. I didn’t even question him putting it in his name instead of mine. He said it was because he bought it with his inheritance money. Since then, I’ve learned that because he did that, technically it’s not ‘marital assets.’ Now I can’t stand to be here. It’s an emotional prison.”

  The backyard was pretty, but from the way the grass had grown to mid-calf Jeff could see she hadn’t mowed it lately, unlike the manicured front yard. Outside the fenced area lay the thick woods that made up the bulk of their property.

  “Do you have any plans yet for when you get back to Florida?” he asked.

  “Already have a job lined up.”

  “Oh. What do you do?”

  “Real estate agent. I’m looking forward to having my life back. And to not having to look over my shoulder every time I turn around, or wondering when the next shoe will drop right on my head.”

  “Are you worried about him coming after you in Florida?”

  “Not really. That’s too much work for him. Morse only hit me once, and…” She held out her hands, indicating the house. “I told him if he hit me again, he’d be in jail. He didn’t have to hit me again, though. He’s verbally, mentally, emotionally, and sexually abusive. He’s threatened me so much that I’m finally numb. I knew I couldn’t live like this anymore. Life’s too short. Eight years with him has been eight years too long.”