Rugged Daddy

“Some things have developed,” I said. “I’m not coming to town until further notice.”

“We need to do another meeting. You have to keep your skills sharp, especially if something is lurking. Should I be aware of anything?”

“If you can get to my place, I’ll talk to you about it, but not over the phone,” I said.

“Done. I’m headed to my car now. Be ready for me in twenty.”

“I’ll be outside waiting,” I said.

Brad knew why he was needed, and sometimes it was nice unloading on someone who understood what was going on. Today, he blocked every punch I threw and every kick I dealt, and he could tell I was distracted. His headlocks took me to my knees, and I couldn’t get out of his death cages. Sweat dripped down my back as the sun hung heavily in the sky, and when I expected his next attack, it didn’t come.

“Okay,” Brad said. “What’s going on?”

I wiped the sweat from my brow as I stood to my feet.

“You’re distracted. Useless. Covered in bruises from punches and kicks you didn’t block. What’s happened?”

“They’re on the edge of town,” I said.

“And you know this for sure?”

“That’s what my friend’s been telling me. And to make matters worse, I have a woman staying with me who’s pregnant with my child.”

Brad’s eyes hardened on me as I drew in a deep breath.

“It’s the longest story on the planet, but the gist is she went from being nothing but a surrogate to being much more. It’s my job to protect her from this bullshit I’ve got at my feet, and the guilt is overwhelming.”

Brad threw a punch at me, but I managed to block it.

“My daughter's life changed because of his.”

Block.

“Now her life has changed because of this.”

Another block.

“My selfish antics put people I care for in danger.”

Block, block.

“And now this fucking makeshift family I’ve taken under my wing is holed up in some massive cabin in the woods because I’m a fucking idiot!”

I threw a punch at Brad, and he moved. His hands clamped down onto my wrist, using my momentum to toss me to the ground. I rolled over, escaped his plummeting body, and then quickly clamored on top of him and wrenched his arm around. I pinned it to his back and wrapped my free arm around his neck, throttling my muscles against his windpipe until he gasped for air.

“Tap. Tap. Tap,” he said breathlessly.

I let go of him, and he began to choke.

He rubbed his neck before I helped him up, but he instantly turned me around. I ducked and threw him over my head, bracing my arm so he couldn't dislocate my shoulder. He went down onto his back and wrapped his hands around my ankles, taking me down to my ass.

But I twisted and got out of his grasp before I stood to my feet and put my foot against his neck.

“You’re strong,” Brad said. “And even though you carry a great deal of guilt, it’s that guilt that keeps you focused. It wasn’t until you started talking about what you felt responsible for that you started stepping up. That’s what a man does.”

I removed my foot from his neck and helped him to his feet.

“You’ve got good skills under your belt. What you can’t do is get distracted. Keep them at the forefront of your mind, but don’t let your guilt overwhelm you. Use it to fuel your protective instincts we’ve been honing. It’s all you’ve got.”