Daddy's 4 Dirty Friends

HOLDEN

Gunner’s warning didn’t do shit. Neither did Matthew coming by. I told him she was hungry and now he’s out getting her food which has left us alone again. Her soft self and me scarred a million ways.

Seeing her mid-nightmare had seemed safe. Calming her is what a gentleman would do. Kissing her … taking the kiss that’s something else entirely. As is the hard-on I’m trying to hide in my jeans. But her flushed cheeks, hearing the word “Daddy” on her tongue, the wild panting. Oh, it has me feeling all sorts of fucked up.

And I’m supposed to be the one with control.

I was the last to be with Bella. I was the last to agree to share. I’m always the last, but this time …

“We shouldn’t have done that.” She says as she pulls herself up from the ground. “We shouldn’t have. Not on any planet. We …”

But the way she sucks her bottom lip argues for her.

“No, I’m serious, don’t look at me like that.” She points at me and puts the bed between us.

She’s right. She’s Miles’ daughter. I already know Gunner is interested, and we tend to have the same taste in women. She’s young, innocent, and something else. She covers her mouth as she watches me, and I can see the conflict in her eyes.

Conflict I know well.

So I take a step back. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be. You don’t have to apologize, I promise. It’s just … a lot. I just got here, and I’m already ruining things.” She breathes.

It takes two people to kiss. I’m just as much to blame. She sits on the bed and puts her hands over her face, pushing back into her hair which falls over her shoulders. “Fuck.”

I take the chance and close the space between us. When she looks up, she jumps, then leans back. Fuck, I’d love to follow, but I stop. This isn’t fair to her. So I take a deep breath and nod. “It never happened.”

“What? No. I’m not crazy. This happened.” She says seriously.

I shrug. “It did, but it didn’t.”

She narrows her eyes for a moment, then nods. “Okay. Right. It didn’t happen.”

It’s that simple. I glance at her, the bed, then take a step back. “Tell me if you need anything, Sophia.”

“Thank you.”

I walk away, make myself walk away. At least I was half-dressed when she came in. Gunner’s warning did that. Matthew returns with food a few minutes later, and Sophia comes down from the loft in a smart, almost sensible white dress that she has tied just under her breasts. A sliver of cleavage is on display.

I force myself to look over at Matthew as he looks over Sophia. He grins, no bad intention at all. Just friendliness. “I haven’t seen you in years, Soph.”

“Hi, Matt.” She treats him to a sweet smile, complete with one dimple. “How have you been?”

They catch up in an easy way that I envy. Out of all of us, Matt has recovered the best. I have baggage inside and out. Things that aren’t easy to ignore. Which is why I always wear shoes inside.

And to be honest, there’s no way I could get a woman like Sophia with my shit. Matthew’s been lucky to find a connection, to build a real relationship. A sniper who’s had the luxury of a scope without the freedom of memory loss.

We’re all fucked up in our own ways.

“Holden?” Matthew asks.

I’ve been staring at my sushi instead of eating it. I swallow, then put a roll in my mouth. Sophia’s eyes go to me, and she blushes before shoving another roll in her mouth. Matthew smiles, but I see his eyes flick to me.

There’s a question there, one that I won’t answer. Not unless he asks directly. Then I’ll lie. I’ve made an agreement with the girl. No matter how ill-advised, it’s one I intend to keep. I’m going to make sure she feels safe.

“Holden, you okay?”

I nod once, then take my sushi to my room across the house and up the stairs. I need a moment. Being first in, being the driver of the jeep, being the translator for our party has eliminated the black and white of life.

After meditating, texting the online therapist I have, getting through a few hours of peace, I come back out. Matthew, Nick, and Roman are on the couch in the main living room. The one where the games are set up. Nick throws the remote down with a victorious shout.

“Come on, there’s a girl here now,” Gunner says, walking in with a cigar. He takes a long puff. “Keep it down.”

“Oh, she’ll be fine.” Nick shrugs. “Haven’t seen her at all.”

“Lucky you,” Gunner says, shaking his head.

“What are we missing out on?” Roman pauses the game to look over at Gunner. “Paint us a picture.”

“Nah, the real thing is much better. Holden can vouch for that.” Gunner motions to me with the cigar before exhaling. “She’s a peach.”

I shrug noncommittally. Miles is going to need someone on his side, my indiscretion being fucking ignored. The guys keep playing until Miles comes home.

“Sophie!” He yells, voice booming through the house.

“She’s in her room, man.” Roman chuckles. “Don’t throw her to the wolves.”

“Has she been there all day?”

Worry laces his features, but he’s happy. And he’s home before midnight. It’s a good day then. Sophia, in oversized sleep pants and a robe, comes out and greets her dad with a bright smile.

“Dad, you said a few hours. Is this your version of soon?”

He chuckles, and they walk off, having a conversation none of us need to get involved in. Roman’s eyes follow them, but Nick shrugs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Gunner shrugs. “Not being interested is much better.”

“Less complicated.” Roman agrees, but he’s still looking in their direction.

I roll my eyes and let myself go to the office. I work on some of the accounting details. Details make sense. Numbers make sense. It’s all clear and easy to define, to track, to make sense of. And I can lose myself in the spreadsheets, in the files, in the math.

When I stretch and rub down to my knee. I roll down the silicon and then remove the prosthetic. I don’t talk about it. The guys don’t talk about it. It’s the unspoken between us. I rub it, trying to ignore the phantom pain in the toes I don’t have.

Exhaling, I put it back on and head to the kitchen. I need something to eat even if it’s nearly two a.m. Alone time in the house is my favorite time. I love my friends, I remind myself as I adjust my pants and head to the kitchen.

I love them and love their determination to stay together despite no longer being on active duty. But there’s more we don’t say than do. And they are all happy to go back to what they were doing before, to the people they were before shit hit the fan.

I can’t.

I can’t even find the motivation to try.

I used to be the life of the party. The one who could drink anyone under the table, who would try anything once, who played life like every day was a gamble that couldn’t be passed up.

Now, I’m happy to have a bowl of children’s cereal in the middle of the morning because I can. But when I get there, I realize I’m not alone.

Sitting in the almost dark is Sophia. She plays with the cereal in her bowl, lost in thought as she chews her lip. I gently knock on the wall, letting her know I’m here, and she looks up with surprise.

“Holden!”

“Just cereal.” I point at the fridge.

I make a bowl in silence but feel her eyes on me as I move. When I finally sit and meet her gaze, she blushes and turns away. “So, uh, what do you do for the company? I’m trying to figure it out. Dad’s CEO, Gunner is COO. What are you?”

“CFO. Head accountant.” I murmur.

“That’s amazing. How can you keep track of numbers like that?” She leans towards me as if this is the middle of her day, and she’s actually interested. “I’m sorry. That’s a big question.”

“If you’re interested, I can show you.”

“Really? You wouldn’t mind?” She perks up. “If I’ll be in the way or something, I understand.”

I shake my head and motion to her bowl. “My office is here.”

She follows me, light on her feet as we get to the office. I pat a chair behind me, and she sits, eating her cereal. I show her what’s going on in the books, and she asks questions, points at things, catches on quickly. No wonder her father is proud of her.

She’s quick, eager to understand, and not afraid to show when she does and doesn’t understand. After a while, she sits back in the chair and shakes her head. “This is amazing, Holden. I feel like I’m speaking gibberish, but I know it makes perfect sense to you.”

I shrug.

“I should get to bed.” She swallows, and I’m suddenly aware of how close we are.

It’s dangerous as hell, and since I don’t want a repeat of earlier and I know she doesn’t, it’s best that we both go to bed. I lean towards the computer and nod. She looks over my face slowly.

She glances lower at my bare chest, my shoulder, my arms. I clear my throat, and she jumps up. “Let me take your bowl.”

Instead, I take hers and shoo her away. She gives me a “thank you” and heads off. I put our dishes in the sink, wash them, and head to bed. Once in bed, I take my pills, and I’m out. Luckily, I’ll be able to sleep whether I want to or not.

In the morning, I hear doors slamming, and I know they’ve gone to work. Until I hear “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

I’m almost tempted to poke my head out, but the pills are strong, and I can barely peel my eyelids open. Sophia will figure it out. I have faith in her. But then I hear Roman’s voice. “I can give you a ride.”

“Really?!”

“We’re going to the same place. It’ll be fine.”

I close my eyes and groan. If Roman wants her and she’s at all interested, he will jump right on her. The fact that Gunner hasn’t is a miracle in itself, but Roman is definitely the kind to melt a woman down, and he can sense what they need and want. He can read people like no one else can.

I hear a knock on the door, then Roman’s voice. “You good, Hold? Need anything from the world?”

I groan.

“Alright. I’ll bring beer.”

I smile and dig deeper into my bedding for another few hours until I drag myself out of the bedroom and to the kitchen in only my prosthetic. I make coffee, have a long drink, then get at least half-dressed.

It’s the most I commit to most days.

It’s usually more than enough, but I’ll probably have to start wearing clothes considering Sophia is here. Unless we get to a point … no. She deserves respect, no matter what we have done or what we might do.

And if we do anything, she’ll still be too good for me.

I glare at my fake foot, the one that’s not fooling anyone, just like me. I’m a husk of a man. Nothing more. Good for numbers, support, and the memories no one really wants. I rub my forehead, then look at my phone.

A text from a number I don’t have saved … who would text me?

It’s Sophia. Dad gave me your number. Thanks for last night.

I save her number and pour myself another cup of coffee.

Nothing’s happened.