Marital Bitch (Men with Badges)

Chapter FIFTEEN

(Colleen)

He’s serious about my safety. He always is.

“DARLA—,” I SAY, I say. My eyes are filled with tears. She smiles at little—just enough to look sincere. This is the same smile she gave me when she told me that she was in love with my brother and that she was going to marry him. There wasn’t a hint of humor at that moment. Back then, she didn’t know how much James loved her. She didn’t know that he would bother me with constant questions about her. She didn’t know that James’s world begins and ends with her—even then it did—and he was a goner from the first moment that he spoke to her. I used to wonder how she could be so blind…

“Colleen,” she says gently, “I wouldn’t lie about this. You’re my sister and I want the best for you—and if you can get your hoity-toity head out of your Ivy League butt, then maybe you could see that Brad is what’s best for you.” I gulp loudly. I don’t know what to say. What can I say?

“How…” I trail off. I want to ask her how she knows; or what makes her think all of this.

“No man puts up with as much shit as he does from you unless he’s in love. Besides, we’ve all known it for a long time. You’re just a little slow,” she shakes her head in disbelief.

“What about all those other women?” I ask, thinking about the parade of women that have come and gone from Brad’s bed. Darla scoffs as though my question is the stupidest thing she’s ever heard.

“Again—you’re thinking like a woman. You need to grow a pair and think like you’ve got a penis. As a woman, if you’re in love with a man, you’d rather remain celibate than to go out sleeping around; so of course it doesn’t make any sense to you. But as a man? Honey, if your cookie jar is off limits… what do you expect? The man’s got an appetite. So either you show him that you’re ready to bake or leave him alone when he fills up elsewhere.”

“I have left him alone,” I muse, realizing that if, perhaps, I had put forth some effort back when we were teenagers that things might have turned out different. But do I really want for things to have turned out different? Darla ‘hmphs’ and rolls her eyes.

“No, you have not!” she says. I’m confused. Again. “Every single time that man gets a new girlfriend you buddy up to her and push your way in-between them. Next thing he knows he’s the third-wheel in his own relationship.” I’ve always made friends with Brad’s girlfriends, but I never had any ulterior motives; at least I didn’t think that I did.

“Have I really?” I ask her, pleading for the truth. She nods her head at me like I’m her child. I’d be insulted if I didn’t feel so stupid right now. “Maybe that’s what I need to do with Vicky,” I mumble. Darla’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Vicky?” she asks. I sigh. Apparently James didn’t talk to her yet.

“Yeah. You know, I told Brad he could date, so it’s not like he’s really cheating, but he was pawing all over her down at the station. You know her, beautiful, strawberry blonde, with knockers that could poke your eyes out?” Darla nods.

“Uh, Colleen,” she draws her words out like I’m short bus special. “How much do you know about Vicky?” I tell her the very little bit that I know, which is, essentially, just what I saw.

“So, you don’t really know anything about her, then?” Darla questions, a little too curiously. I shake my head. I wish I knew a little bit about her, that way I could size her up and tell Brad if she’s a good fit for him or not. Maybe she wants to do lunch…

Oh, God.

Oh, God.

Darla is right. I always find a way to wedge myself into Brad’s relationships. “How long have I been interfering in his relationships, Darla?” I ask, defeated.

“According to your mother—since you two were in diapers. You even got jealous when he would play with his sisters. She says you’d push the twins away from him; and if Charlotte tried to play, you’d bite her.” Darla laughs, telling me all of this. I put my head in my hands and feel like my head is about to explode.

The baby starts to fuss and Darla stands up. Our visiting time is over and I’m no longer in the mood to play with the baby. I stand up, too, and ignore her protests, asking me to stay. I don’t want to talk much anymore—afraid of what else I’ll find out about myself that I didn’t even know.

“Colleen,” Darla says, turning around from her position at the stairs. I look to her and wait to hear her parting words. She takes a deep breath. “I know you better than you know yourself sometimes. You are so in love with that man, but so afraid of getting hurt that you can’t even move. It’s time you go get your husband and tell him how you feel.” I smile; all watery eyes and shallow breaths. There’s really nothing I can say, so I don’t even try.

I’m going to go get my husband.

I walk out of the house toward Brad’s. His truck is in the drive. I’m a mix of confidence and nervousness. I don’t know how much I care about Brad just yet—calling it love seems a bit presumptuous at this point—but I know that I do indeed care. A lifetime of caring for someone doesn’t equate to love. No, there’s more to love than that. There has to be.

The front door is unlocked and I walk straight in. Brad is hunched over in his leather Lazy Boy recliner in the living room, a glass of liquor in his hand. He looks at me, expressionless and just stares. He hasn’t given me this look since that fateful night so many years ago when he walked in on me and Heather.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. He shakes his head and stares at the glass in his hand, swishes the liquor around and downs it. I need to make this right, and fast. He’s shutting down. But before I can say or do anything else, he turns his head, looking at me from the corner of his eyes. For a brief moment, they soften. He smirks, but it’s not the playful smirk he always wears. He looks mean. Not angry, just… mean. I try to smile, but it’s forced.

In a moment so brief I barely register what happens, he throws the glass across the room. It shatters on the wall. I step back; my body flush against the front door.

“What? You’re scared of me now?!?” he’s screaming; and yeah, I am sort of scared of him right now. I’ve never seen Brad so angry before in my life.

“How much have you had to drink?” I ask quietly. I want to know, because this is a side of him that I’m not sure I can deal with.

“Answer my question. You’re scared of me now?” He stands from his seat in the chair and takes three tentative steps towards me. His face now wavering between apologetic and angry is trained on mine. Something happened, and it’s hurting him. I can’t imagine that I could have done this much damage.

“I’m not scared of you, Bradley,” I say, keeping my voice low. He takes two more steps forward. I relax a little, my nails no longer digging into the wall. Brad would never hurt me, I know this. I give him a sad smile. He closes the distance between us. I lean against his chest and his arms wrap around me.

“Are you okay?” I ask him. He says nothing for several minutes. We just stand there and I breathe him in. This being in his arms feels really nice, homey even. Part of me thinks that I’m letting everything Darla said get to me. The other part of me thinks that maybe I’m finally opening my eyes to what’s been before me my entire life.

“I don’t want you going out at night, okay?” His voice is gruff, like he’s fighting his vocal chords just to speak. I want to ask him why, but I know better. My dad’s a cop and so is my brother; this isn’t the first time they’ve asked me to do something for my safety. The three of them—they’re always looking out for me. I wonder if that’s something I’ve taken for granted.

“Colleen?” Brad says, taking my face between his hands and forcing me to look him in the eyes. “Don’t go out at night, okay? Not without me. Please.” I nod, looking into his eyes. He’s serious about my safety—he always is. Why haven’t I noticed this before?

He looks different up close. He doesn’t look slobbish or crude. He’s handsome. Well, he’s always been handsome in that Irish brute sort of way; but now, he looks different. He looks… sexy?

Without another thought, I act on instinct, grabbing his neck and pulling him down toward me. I don’t seem to have any control over my actions. I kiss him. At first I’m gentle, but when he doesn’t respond immediately, I attack him.