Windenburg
Hayes Estate
The older woman gently lowered Indigo Blu, affectionately known as Indie, to the ground. Her nuzzles and kisses still clung to the 7-year-old’s rounded cheeks, framed by the same black hair as her daddy’s. The long braids accentuate her sweet, red-cheeked face, and her eyes—darker shades of blue—seemed to honor her name. Indie’s grandmother handed her some money, and with a determined glint in her eyes, Indie dashed off to invest in candy downtown following her four older siblings to the nearby dock to take the ferry over to the mainland from the small island that is once more their home. Spencer 16, the spitting image of his father with black hair and striking steel blue eyes; Keanu, 14, whose year-round bronzy skin and warm, coppery brown hair made him the not-so-secret crush of most girls at his high school; Phoenix, 13, fiery red hair cascading in waves down her back, competing with her warm brown eyes; and Robin, 9, whose red-cheeked face was framed by a mix of dark, ashy blonde and light brown hair. Robin’s brilliant blue eyes compensated for the neutrality of the rest of her features. Their grandmother watched them fondly, love etched into the lines of her face.
When Theresa Hayes turned, her smile faded, replaced by a steely expression as her gaze fell upon her son, Stryker. Her now grim and cold expression belied the typical grandma appearance she otherwise sported, her meanwhile fully gray hair in a loose bun, her feet in sensible shoes rather than the heels she used to wear, usually mixed with looser pants or pencil skirts. A small frown appeared on her face as she watched her son and only child, Stryker. He had been helping his ex-wife, Sophie, clean up after lunch. Now, he stood frozen, gripping the counter. Sophie, ever the caretaker, immediately crossed the room. She took the dishes from Stryker’s hands, guiding him to a chair, carefully lowering him down onto it. He looked up at her with gratitude, she bent down and kissed him quickly, winked before turning to finish loading the dishwasher.
“I don’t understand why you still pamper him,” Stryker muttered. “Don’t you see he’s just playing you, so you’ll wait at his hand and foot? Between the five kids, the household, and the restaurant business, you’re busy enough. If you want another baby THIS badly that you turn a grown man into one, just have him knock you up already and kick the man-baby out for good. Treating him like an injured bird only feeds his greedy, destructive ego.” Theresa’s voice nearly clinked, like ice cubes in a glass.
Sophie snapped, “Enough! Not in front of the kids, and not now either. I’m tired of your constant nagging and bitterness! This is MY home, not yours, act accordingly and quit that bullshit!”
“Oh dear!” Theresa chimed in. “You must make him find his own place. His terrible language is rubbing off on you, Sophie. He can only corrupt those who care about him.”
Stryker grumbled, “Sounds like you have nothing to worry about then, mother dearest.”
Sophie shot him a warning glare, shaking her head at him, while his mother snapped at him.
“What good does caring about you and worrying about you do a person? Ask your oldest son—it almost led him down the same defiant path you chose, that poor boy was angry and uncontrollable the minute you resurfaced from you little holiday after leaving the rest of us to clean up all the many messes you left us with! You nearly ruined Sophie’s life, broke her heart and the hearts of all your children! Monster! One day Sophie’ll learn there’s no hope for you. Just like I have. I had to give up on you, I tried and tried to help you, to save you, it was useless, so all I could do was remove myself from your self-destructive egomaniac tendencies or you would have taken me down with you, then used me as a stepping stool to save yourself, leaving me to drown in your inabilities and many flaws like you did with your ex-wife! And to what end? Just to watch you turn around and start new drama to drown everyone in!” she nearly snarled those harsh words at her son.
“Theresa, please,” Sophie interjected. “This is counter-productive! You’re welcome here anytime, you’re my childrens’ grandmother, but I won’t tolerate this. Stryker is the father of my children. Yes, he made mistakes, and it was hard on all of us. But it also taught our kids valuable lessons—to never give up on someone they love, no matter how hopeless it seems. And as for my choices, they’re mine to make. Stryker sold the film rights to his story; it’s becoming a movie. The first payment allowed us to buy back our old home and remodel it for our fresh start. The rest is just inner growth. I’ve heard your warnings hundreds of times. Let me live my life the way I choose. I chose Stryker, and that’s that. What I do NOT want, as no good ever comes from it, is be reminded of those hard times by you constantly. I managed to let go, so you can too! A wound can’t heal if you keep picking at it!”
“Okay, so he found a way to sell out, himself and the rest of us, to right a wrong he caused. This house was already yours; you lost it because of him. He doesn’t deserve a pat on the back for getting it back! I also don’t see that as award-worthy. I’ve received calls from press and film studios about my role in all this, and just so you know, I will not support ANY of it! I can imagine what he made me look like, and I won’t feed into that nonsense—blaming all his issues on me! An outrage! We’re the victims here, not him! He is and always has been the perpetrator! Must he be living here with you? Girl, how many more times does he have to do you wrong for you to realize he’ll never change? What you see now is just another act until he gets a wild hair up his rear, and down the ship will go. AGAIN. And you’ll lose this house again. Wasn’t it built once by some ancestors of yours? What a shame!”
“Theresa, this house never left Cameron ownership. My twin brother bought it to help us out because, as the mayor, he gets all those tax breaks. He always kept their home downtown, and now he sold it back to us. We all came out even. It’s what family does. My side of the family would have helped me more if they could, but we’re not the wealthy branch, and I don’t like handouts. We’re even better than before because now I’ve realized ALL my childhood dreams. I’m a mother, I have a wonderful home in a great location near my family, five wonderful babies, a man I love, and who loves me, and my very own restaurant AND catering business. I wouldn’t have any of that without Stryker. I’d still be working my ass off in someone else’s restaurant, probably still single, and definitely not a mother. I was disablingly shy, Theresa. Stryker’s crash course actually helped me a lot.”
“Hear that, mother dearest?! You’d just love it, seeing Sophie and me break up again, so you can inject her with your toxic extreme-feminism BS until she turns into a lonely old Stryker-hating hag like you one day!”
“HEY! ENOUGH! BOTH of you, or I’ll kick BOTH of you out!”
“Fine, if you’d rather live in denial. I’m only trying to protect you, you naive, innocent little girl,” Theresa told Sophie, mildly offended.
Stryker burst into a fake laugh. “YOU and protecting anyone? Are we talking about the same Theresa Hayes? HA, good one, mother. You’d use a small child as a shield in a gunfire, always just thinking of yourself! And Sophie is the sweetest girl, I agree there, but she’s not naive and definitely not innocent. Maybe she once was, but she’s matured into an amazing and strong woman now. After 5 children—and hundreds of more baby-making exercises—I can vouch she definitely isn’t innocent.” His laughter turned into a chuckle when Sophie flicked a dish towel at him trying not to giggle.
“Cute. Very cute. So, what’s next for all of us on this crazy ride with you two then? Getting remarried, I assume?” Theresa’s voice was sharp.
The tension in the room crackled like a lightning storm. Sophie’s eyes widened, caught between shock and embarrassment. Stryker, on the other hand, was a tempest of fury. While a topic many obviously wondered about, he knew this question was everything but innocent, Theresa knew this would be an uncomfortable topic to both, reminding both of the terrible times surrounding their divorce and all the heartbreak that pre- and postdated it. Something said with the intention to divide. His face flushed crimson, and his knuckles whitened as he clenched his fists. The room seemed to shrink around him, walls closing in on the battlefield of family drama and raw emotions.
Stryker’s head snapped to face Sophie, who stared at Theresa. “Umm … marriage?” Sophie stuttered.
“Ah, I see. So, he hasn’t buttered you up enough for that? Or let me guess, your parents smelled what this mooch is cooking up for you and took you aside, so you don’t fall for his bullshit again like the silly little girl you are? I know you think you couldn’t get another man, since you’re on the hefty side and can’t really be bothered to make something of yourself, but you can definitely do much better than entering for the next round with that guy there. Stryker, round two? No thank you, please spare all of us. Even the scant pride you possess should prevent you from allowing that!” Theresa’s voice cut deep.
Sophie’s breath hitched. The room blurred for her as tears welled up, she swallowed hard.
“OUT!” His voice thundered, shaking the very floorboards. Stryker jumped up with surprising speed and force, Theresa stumbled backward, her mouth agape. Stryker’s protective rage surged, fueled by years of resentment and pain as he forced his mother towards the front door. He had fought his demons, battled addiction, and clawed his way back from the abyss. And now, this venomous woman dared to undermine his hard-won redemption and worse yet, attack his Sophie?!
“Get out of our house now, mother,” he spat, each word a dagger when her back was nearly against their front door. “Best hurry or you’ll have to sit in the rain for the next ferry.”
Sophie’s gaze shifted between them Stryker tore the door wide open and Theresa stepped outside.
Sophie had always felt unworthy, insecure, unfit, and unattractive—bullied or ignored throughout high school, with few, if any, friends. As a chubby dreamer with her head in the clouds, she spent her teenage years babysitting other people’s kids as no boy ever looked at her twice, except to make fun of her. Then when a man like Stryker stumbled into her life during her early twenties—so different from her, the quintessential bad boy, rogue and just eye-catching, he was captivating to young Sophie, who at this point was still unkissed and pure as the driven snow, dreaming of her prince to find her, too mousey to attract attention, too shy and insecure to demand it—it ignited a spark of hope. A fragile belief whispered that maybe, just maybe, she deserved more. Her infatuation turned into deep love, and even his flighty personality couldn’t resist Sophie’s down-to-earth natural beauty and charm for too long, along with her impressive cooking and baking skills, even back then. Theresa’s harsh words had brought all those old, ugly feelings back.
“My wife,” Stryker continued, his voice trembling with emotion, “cos to me, Sophie will always be my wife, my heart, my everything.” He turned to her, eyes pleading. “As she has always been when my mind wasn’t corrupted by drugs and suffocating depression.”
“Oh jeeze, here we go again…it’s getting deep now. You really have no shame, do you, Marco?” Theresa rolled her eyes and sighed theatrically.
“Still Stryker, or do you need to look at my driver license? And yes, mother,” Stryker declared, “I will ask Sophie to marry me again, as soon as I’ve proven to her and to myself that I am worthy of her again. There,” Stryker concluded, his voice raw, “does that answer your question, you old nag?”
Theresa’s retort was sharp, but Sophie’s gaze remained fixed on Stryker. His vulnerability, his fight for their future—it was a promise etched in fire.
“She will NEVER say ‘yes’ to you again,” Theresa snapped, “unless she is dumber than I thought! Which, looking at all this, is not that unlikely either!”
As the door slammed shut in Theresa’s face, Sophie stepped closer to Stryker. His eyes searched hers, seeking forgiveness, redemption, and a love that defied the odds.
“How much trouble am I in for losing my cool?” he asked sheepishly.
Sophie leaned in, her lips brushing his.
“You’re not in the doghouse,” she whispered, hope flared up in his eyes.
“Not banned to the couch either? Stryk-y can sleep in bed with his Sophie tonight?” he batted his eyes at her comically, she giggled.
“Yes, Stryk-y can sleep with me tonight. Silly man.” she gently tickled his chin as she passed him on her way back to the kitchen, him following her to a counter.
Sophie turned, barely able to keep from smiling, as she handed the glass to him, along with some pills. Stryker took them from her.
“I am not due for the next round. Oh, these are my heart pills, Soph. I didn’t even really get upset, baby. Not even very excited. I really don’t think I need my heart pills because my mother behaved like she always does. I am okay.” he tried to hand both back to her.
Sophie stepped closer, bringing her lips near his ear. “They are not for what happened, but in preparation of what is about to happen. In our bedroom. We have about 30 minutes or less before the kids return, half of them probably with a tummy ache, the others bouncing off the walls from all the sugary treats they bought with the money your mother slipped them.”
She passed him, winked, then headed towards the stairs, while Stryker’s face lightened up with a smirk as he swallowed the pills, and the entire glass of water before following her.
Once their mommy and daddy time was over, followed by a shower together, Sophie shoved Stryker back on the bed, only a towel wrapped around his hips. “You stay here and rest, I’ll go deal with the kids.” she said, buttoning up her blouse again.
“I am not tired, Soph. Not even that exhausted, even though I’d like to think I gave it all I had. I am fine!”
“Rest up. You’ll need your strength for later. I have plans for you.”
The air in the room hung heavy with anticipation, like the calm before a storm. Stryker lay there, half-dressed, his heart still racing from their passionate encounter. Sophie’s words echoed in his mind.
He watched her retreat, her silhouette framed by the soft glow of the hallway light like a vision, a beautiful vision to Stryker. Sophie was a force of nature, a blend of childlike vulnerability and superhuman strength that had drawn him in from the moment they met. Unlike other adults, she hadn’t lost her sense of wonder, probably one of the many reasons Sophie was such a natural with kids, she still hadn’t lost her inner child and could easily dive into their childlike worlds with them. Even making love to her was so different than with any of the many women Stryker had before her. It was passionate, but at the same time innocent and sweet, drew him in, making him feel in control, something he rarely felt, while enjoying her tender and sweet caress and all those amazing feelings together. And now, as she disappeared towards the stairs, leaving him with a mix of relaxation and comfortable inner calmness, he inhaled deeply.
The kids would be back soon, their laughter and chatter filling the house. Stryker’s heart swelled at the thought. There was a time when their noisiness and antics often annoyed him, like any parent knows, however losing them for a then undetermined time, which could have been forever as he signed all custody and visitation rights away in his drug haze during their divorce, something he regretted non-stop while trying to not only survive a catastrophic collapse, but also recover from his many addictions. He spent months without even as much as seeing them and he got a lesson in ‘you don’t know what you got till it’s gone’. With his new appreciation for even the smallest things, the little annoyances of life, his kids were now his anchor, the reason he fought to stay clean, to be better. But Sophie—she was his lifeline. She’d seen him at his lowest, loved him through the jagged edges of withdrawal, and believed in redemption when he doubted it himself. Unlike his own mother, Sophie never gave up on him. He had put her through hell, and yet she was the first to sacrifice herself caring for him 24/7 while picking up the pieces of their lives.
As he lay there, the towel slipping slightly, he considered their journey. The scars they carried—the ones etched on their souls—were both a burden and a testament. Could they really rewrite their story? Could love mend what was broken and maybe even one day fade the terrible memories, replacing them with fond ones? Like that one small word that had always turned out to be the keyword of their relationship. ‘Stay’. That word was their word, displayed on decorations inside the house as constant reminders of the many times he failed, yet she kept asking him to stay, even when he was about to let go of his life spirit, that very last inch of himself keeping him alive when she whispered ‘stay’, and he did. For her. The word was a tattoo he wore, ‘She said Stay’ it read, right below his heart. So many times had he let her down, and so many times he crawled back to her, and so many times she told him ‘Stay’.
Sophie’s voice floated up the stairs, a siren’s call. “Rest up,” she’d said. “We have plans this evening. BIG plans. I need your inner batteries at 100% charge!”
Stryker grinned, the ache in his muscles forgotten as he crawled underneath the sheets of the bed, too relaxed to want to get up and get dressed just yet, but not willing to risk any of his kids walk in on him wearing nothing but a towel. Whatever Sophie’s big plans might be, he’d follow her anywhere, even into the unknown. Because in Sophie’s arms, he’d found solace, hope, and a love that defied logic and finally had the clarity of mind to fully appreciate it.
As the rain tapped against the window like a lullaby, he closed his eyes, imagining their future—a tapestry woven from love, mistakes, forgiveness, and whispered promises of new beginnings. And for the first time in years, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, they could rebuild something beautiful together that would last through eternity. Without him failing her again.
The kids would return soon, their energy bounding through the door. But for now, in this stolen moment, Stryker surrendered to the quiet, to the anticipation of what lay ahead. And he felt light and genuine happiness. With those thoughts and a smile on his face, he drifted off to sleep.
Later that day, Sophie’s parents arrived to care for the kids. Sophie had meticulously dressed Stryker, selecting dress pants and a crisp blue shirt that matched the color of his eyes. Sophie wore a chic burgundy sheath dress and matching heels, her hair up in soft curls, the color of her lips in harmony with the deep red of the outfit. As she loaded him into the passenger seat, Stryker wondered if this was a surprise date night, perhaps even a moment for Sophie to propose.
He would be wrong.
Newcrest
Carlisle Residence
Stryker stepped out of the car, his heart racing. The familiar surroundings of a house and a driveway he remembered well, tugged at memories long buried. Sophie’s determination was unwavering, her resolve etched in her eyes.
“Soph…” His voice cracked, his body tense.
“Stryker, I don’t wanna hear it!” Sophie’s tone brooked no argument. “Suck it up, baby. I need you to do this—it’s non-negotiable. Be on your best behavior, and you’d better pucker up. I’ve done the hard part for you; now it’s your turn to shine. And here are your pills.”
He winced, feeling like a grandpa with a pocketful of medications. “Soph, I’m not a trash can for pills. Unless you want a repeat performance of earlier today in our bedroom, but in the back of the car, ease up. I don’t wanna end up addicted to heart pills now! Knowing me, there’s always a chance.”
“PILLS! NOW!” Sophie’s eyes flashed. “And no nookie! Impress me in there, and you’ll get whatever you want, LATER as a reward. IF you behave. And only IF you take your pills–NOW!”
With a grimace, he complied, swallowing the pills, frowning, as Sophie stashed the water bottle back in the car. She dragged him toward the front door of the modern white home, the front lined with palm trees, determination radiating from her.
Inside awaited a reunion—a chance to mend old wounds, to face the past, and perhaps find a future. Stryker squared his shoulders. Sophie had given him the opportunity; now it was time to make it count.
The door swung open, revealing a very pretty woman with warm blond hair, an even ivory skin tone, a very symmetrical oval face with large, expressive green eyes in her late 30s—Sophie’s cousin, Christina Carlisle. She hugged Sophie, her gaze lingering on Stryker for a few moments before enveloping him in an embrace as well.
But it was the tall man standing in the living room looking on who held Stryker’s attention. Partially bleach blonde hair, the rest still the same natural brown tone but now with a new, decidedly grey cast, same as repeated in his beard stubble, the light eyes contrasting against his tan skin. Drake Carlisle—Stryker’s former best friend, estranged after a bitter fight years ago. They hadn’t seen each other or exchanged a single word since. Sophie had orchestrated this reunion, pleading for her husband’s sake.
Sophie greeted Drake, their embrace brief but warm. His eyes, though, remained fixed on Stryker. The air crackled with tension as they faced each other, memories and unspoken words hanging heavy.
“You look almost human,” Drake quipped.
Stryker shot back, the familiar banter easing the weight of the past. “I feel almost human. You got old.”
Drake’s laughter erupted, and Stryker joined in. The bro-hug transformed into a genuine embrace, lingering longer than expected.
“I’m glad you’re still with us, Hayes,” Drake said. “Guess you needed to hit rock bottom before you could pull that ugly mug out of your ass and become a decent person. At least that’s what Sophie tells us. To be honest, I said no to seeing you initially, but your Sophie ganged up on me with my Christina. Bet you know how that goes.”
Stryker grinned, a brief gaze over at Sophie, winking at her before turning back to Drake. “Why do you think I’m here? Got ‘wifed’ into submission too. You look good, Drake. Happy. And healthy.”
Drake’s expression softened. “Healthy enough. But happy? I got three kids man, teens, who are the light of my life while at the same time turning me gray and insane, aging me a decade each year.”
“I got five kids but you won’t hear me complain. I learned the hard way that as much as they can test you, the alternative is not fun. But for us it’s mostly Sophie who has them all well-mannered and in line, just like me. The wifey might turn me into a decent human being after all” Stryker chuckled. “… and we have teens too, three of those. I feel you man.”
Christina’s voice interrupted; curiosity piqued. “Speaking of, Stryker, you keep saying ‘wife’, Sophie didn’t talk about that part much, I didn’t wanna ask, but sooooo … did you guys do the deed already or is that in the planning or …”
Sophie swooped in, pulling Christina away. “Never mind her. I’ll help her in the kitchen so you boys can talk in peace.”
“What the hell, Soph!” Christina protested, trying to break free. “I’d rather visit with—”
Sophie’s meaningful look silenced her. “You’re doing stuff in the kitchen now. Remember that thing you wanted me to show you?”
“What thing?” Christina’s confusion echoed through the hallway.
Their voices faded as Sophie and Christina retreated, leaving Stryker and Drake standing in the Carlisle living room, chuckling at the obvious attempt to avoid a certain topic. The air crackled with memories—the weight of years apart, the bitterness of old wounds.
Drake’s gaze bore into Stryker, assessing the man before him. “Sophie’s grown up,” he remarked. “I didn’t think she had it in her to be so assertive.”
Stryker’s smile held a mix of pride and regret. “Yeah, with a husband like me, she didn’t have much of a choice but to get tough. She would’ve drowned under the shambles I left her with. I don’t deserve her, no matter how good I try to be, I know she’d do better without me, yet I can’t let her go. I’d rather die trying to be the man she deserves than giving some other dude the chance to live my dream. Well, I said I was trying to be good, not that I was a saint.”
Drake’s eyes softened. “You’ve changed. I didn’t think it was possible. When Sophie talked about it, we all assumed she had those old rose-colored glasses on again. But now I see it. Hear it. You’re different. It makes me happier than you’ll ever know. I always believed there was a good heart and a decent man beneath that wreckage. What I didn’t know was how to save you from yourself.”
Stryker’s vulnerability hung in the air. Drake fidgeted, more accommodating than Stryker had dared to hope, but clearly still guarded. “Thank you,” Stryker murmured. “Means a lot. I still have a long way to go. Sophie’s kindness, her unwavering faith in me, and the support of others who owed me nothing, all that was what gave me a very new outlook and appreciation for even the smallest of things. Drake, for a long while I lost my ability to talk, even with that ability regained, I am not much for idle banter anymore, so let me get straight to the point: is there hope that one day you could forgive me too? That we could be friends again?”
Drake hesitated, surprised at the direct question, but then nodded. “There’s a chance. We’ll need to build up to it, slowly. A lot has happened—I can’t just erase it all. But I’ll talk to my brother, Nate. He was invited tonight, but obviously you can see he’s not here. Maybe I can pull the big brother card on him and arrange a meeting, just the three of us. Uncomfortable talks have to happen, then we’ll see where it leaves us. But I admit, I am hopeful. You impressed me already.”
Stryker’s relief was palpable. “Thank you. Hey, let’s check on the girls. Sophie’s probably whipped up a five-course gourmet spread, knowing her, so she doesn’t have to blow her cover. Hope you have a big fridge, unless we can manage to eat our way through it.”
Drake smirked. “Maybe we should skip it, cos I never thought I’d ever get to say this to you, but you’re getting fat, buddy. You are definitely off those damn drugs, I can tell. You have a normal skin tone and some meat on those bones. You look like an actual man now, not a cartoon figure. Healthy looks good on you, man.” He playfully punched Stryker’s gut.
Stryker laughed, stuck out his belly and rubbed it. “My dad bod, I wear it proudly. No offense taken, however, Mr. Fitness Guru, but you look about 5 months into the pregnancy yourself.” Stryker reached out and briefly pat Drake’s mid-section, both chuckling.
“Ha, yeah, it’s twins too. HA! Less fit, more fat these days. Middle age sucks, it just gets late earlier and earlier in the day, work and chores, no time and even less energy to work out. I have to set reminders on my phone to move my butt and work out or you’d find me in the living room with a couch growing out of my rear these days. No more Mr. Fitness Guru and I am not even half as concerned by it as I probably should be. My six-pack turned into a keg.” laughing, Drake pulled up his shirt, revealing healthy padding where an impressive six-pack used to be.
“Yeah, I don’t mind my gut at all either. I got seriously skinny—well, even skinnier than I used to be— and could barely keep down any food, even though I wanted to, I barely had the strength to stand up, hardly could lift a glass of water half-full, and as an additional middle finger to my old ways, my man-parts became purely decorative, I could barely use them to piss out of, but with Sophie’s care, love and dedication now I can function properly again, so I am loving the poundage on myself. Still better than the his-and-hers-skeleton look with Alycia on my way into the abyss.”
Drake winced. “Uglycia, you mean. Her name’s a trigger for all of us.”
“Tell me about it. Man, Uglycia, that evil witch caused us so much trouble and she nearly killed me several times and my dumb ass let her. But the worst is how much I let her hurt Sophie. I let that bitch manipulate me, instead of protecting my wife. I can’t even think about that, or I’ll start crying.” Stryker’s tone was laced with regret.
“Have you heard anything about Alycia? Is Bonehilda still alive?”
“Couldn’t tell you if I wanted to, I don’t go looking for anything regarding her and my brain is on permanent draft if her name ever comes up, it all comes in one ear and straight out the other, no retention of information whatsoever. I don’t care what happens to her, I finally know where I belong and where my loyalties lie and that is with my wife and my children.”
“Chris was right. You do keep saying wife. So, is that something official or just …?” Drake raised an eyebrow.
“No. Just wishful thinking. Still ex-wife,” Stryker corrected. “But I’m working on it.”
“How do Sophie and the kids feel about that? Judging by her over-the-top reaction it’s apparently a sore subject. I understand you’ve been living with them again? I mean, from the sounds like it you got the second chance with her but saying ‘I do’ after all that is still a huge step and an even bigger commitment.”
“I know. I wish I could do this one amazing thing showing the world I really am a new man, and then slide on that glory straight to Sophie on my knees, asking her to give me another try as her husband. It’s iffy cos she and I both want to be husband and wife, but the fact that we aren’t and how that came about and all the humiliation surrounding that just fed into all of her old hangups. She is convinced she’s an ugly duckling, I have no idea why, you can stand in front of a mirror with her and she’ll point out perfectly fine parts of her which she thinks are hideous and nothing anyone could say change that. I have no idea who made her feel so low about herself, her entire family has been close and supportive and loving all her life, so I know it wasn’t them, but she just cannot see that she is beautiful and she always was, I have seen pictures of her at all ages imaginable, so if I ever catch whomever put that into her mind, I will fly them to the moon and kick them off it! At least we’re a family again, thank God. It started out rough. At first my kids were scared of me, probably disgusted by me, and kept running away from me, all except Phoenix. My youngest, Indie, kept crying whenever I tried to snuggle her, the second youngest, Robin, just ran off the minute I got too close. The boys just looked at me like a human cockroach. Luckily kids are resilient, and they trust their mother’s instinct. Soph kept me at arm’s length initially, but she has such a big heart and eventually took pity on me. Had some initial bonding issues with my oldest, but we’re good now. The kids love daddy daycare. I’m Mr. Mom, since I can’t work, I am on full disability and still need to rest a lot, basically I am in my forties going on 80. I do help Sophie at the restaurant too whenever I can, I take directions well now. Yeah, I don’t recognize myself anymore either, but like this Stryker a LOT more than the old one. That dude was serious trash.”
Drake’s amazement was genuine. “He’s had his moments, but I agree. I like this version a lot. You’ve changed more than I thought possible. You used to bullshit your way out of everything and honestly, that’s what I expected this would be too. But it’s not. I can tell. This is real. Now you own your screwups. What sort of magic is that? It’s a wonder.”
Stryker’s gratitude hung in the air, a fragile bridge connecting past mistakes to newfound redemption. “Not magic,” he admitted, “just living in a small cabin on a ranch in Chestnut Ridge with a very young man, practically a kid—Jackson. He’s twice the man I could ever aspire to be. Jackson didn’t know me from Adam when I was dropped off with him, yet he fixed me up with patience and kindness when everyone, including myself, had written me off. And then there’s Connor, the young doctor—Chase and Hailey’s boy. They didn’t give up on me either. Sophie, despite all I’ve put her through, stood by me as did my oldest daughter, Phoenix, the only one of my kids who even came to see me while I was recovering. THAT’s why I got this chance. It took a village; I would have never made it on my own. I really am different now, and I’m grateful. And I am never going back.”
Drake’s resolve solidified. “You know what? Screw it. I’ll get the girls, and we’ll take a drive out to Copperdale. Nate, my little brother, needs to see you, experience the person you’ve become. No time like the present time to start rebuilding old friendships. I missed you, man—the one you were before the drugs and Uglycia’s spell. Nate misses you too. We talked about the good old days often, even though there were so many rough ones too. But in the end what matters is that we all made it out alive, some of us with more detours than others. Nate will hear you out, and if I have to lay the big brother guilt trip on him. And I am sure Sophie would love to see Marciella again. Their daughter is married with a child and their boy is a teen too.”
Copperdale
Bancroft Residence
The drive to Copperdale unfolded like a tapestry of memories and possibilities. Stryker sat in the passenger seat, his fingers tapping nervously on his thigh. The road stretched ahead, winding through familiar landscapes—the rolling hills, quaint towns, and whispering forests.
Sophie, focused on the road, stole glances at him. Her knuckles gripped the steering wheel, and she silently prayed this would go over as well as reconnecting with Drake had. The past and the present collided—the man Stryker used to be and the man he was becoming. Had become.
They were following Drake’s car, his wife Christina next to him in the passenger seat.
As they neared Copperdale, Sophie caught sight of the town sign—the letters weathered but still standing. She held her breath, there it was: Nate and Marciella’s home—a modern traditional building just outside the town center. The forest loomed in the background, and the large lake shimmered like a secret. The air smelled of pines, memories, and second chances.
Sophie glanced at Stryker after pulling into the driveway behind Drake. Redemption awaited—a chance to mend old friendships, to rewrite their story. She grabbed Stryker’s hand and squeezed it briefly, he forced a tense smile as he pulled her hand up to his mouth and kissed it, before they stepped out of the car, he came over to the driver side, her hand finding his. As they walked toward Nate and Marciella’s door following Drake and Christina, Sophie hoped Stryker would manage to convince his old friends to fully forgive him. It would be the final missing puzzle piece to his recovery. Two more solid anchors to make sure he would never lose his way again.
Nate’s eyes widened as the door swung open, revealing Stryker—the man he hadn’t seen in years, the one who’d vanished into the abyss of addiction after terrible fights with everyone who cared about him. Memories flooded back—the fights, the hurtful words, the shattered trust. Nate’s jaw clenched, but he held his ground.
Drake stepped forward, his voice firm. “Nate, sorry for the surprise visit, but before you flip, I am convinced Stryker is worth a second chance. He’s different now—fought his demons, rebuilding. Sophie vouches for him, and so do I. Hear him out. I am asking as your brother.”
Nate’s gaze bore into Stryker’s. “You left chaos in your wake, man. Hurt everyone. I don’t know what you told my brother, cos last we spoke, he didn’t want to see you either.”
Stryker was at a loss for words. This entire day had been a whirlwind of emotions, and while he had grown stronger, his body remained forever weakened, his heart easily affected, and this sense of unworthiness loomed over him all the time.
Drake’s hand landed on Nate’s shoulder, answering in Stryker’s stead. “Because people change. Because redemption is possible. And because Sophie believes in him, and I think so do I. Hear him out, little brother. Maybe we can find a way back to a friendship that used to carry all three of us through some rough times before. We should at least try, don’t you think?”
Wordlessly, Nate nodded them into the living room, where Marciella got up from a sofa, her eyes just as wide at the surprise visitors as her husband’s had been, while she turned off the TV they had been watching. She was still a pretty woman with long, straight, warm brown hair falling to the middle of her back, her brown eyes warm, her face youthful still in her early forties.
The room seemed to hold its breath as Nate’s gaze bore into Stryker’s. Then, unexpectedly, Nate’s stern expression softened. “You know what, man? If whatever you’ve been doing really finally worked—and by the looks of it, it did—and if you managed to convince Sophie to forgive you and now even my brother enough to wanna drive out here with you tonight, then I’m not gonna be the holdup. We go way back. WAY back. Too far back together. Life’s too short for grudges.” He stepped forward, his arms wide. “Come here, you old troublemaker. Damn, you filled in! I almost wanna say you’re getting chunky, buddy.”
“Ha, so I hear! You try being married to a chef/restaurant owner. Well, umm, I mean, living with one is what I meant to say” Stryker’s relief reflected in his eyes, his smile and his voice, while Sophie, Christina and Drake sighed sighs of relief that this hadn’t turned out negatively.
Nate’s laughter rumbled. “Oh, jeeze no, my wife already cooks well, but if she were a chef, you’d find me rolling down the street like a runaway meatball. I like to eat and have no natural skinny genes like you do nor my brother’s athleticism, my treadmill gathers dust and the only shape I would be in would be round. If it weren’t for my Marciella keeping me in line, I wouldn’t fit through any doors anymore.”
Drake clapped Stryker on the back. “Welcome back to the land of the living, Hayes. And welcome back into the old fold. Stryke3 back together again. Well, minus the stage parts. I haven’t picked up a guitar in years.”
“Same here. I don’t even know where my bass is, to be honest. Might not have made it through some of the last garage sales.” Nate shrugged.
“Yeah, and I screwed up my singing voice for good. On my best days I am barely good enough for the shower and only when nobody’s home. Every time I try to sing the dog runs away and tries to check himself into the animal shelter.” Stryker snickered, which turned into a warm smile, deep appreciation in his eyes when they met Sophie’s, who smiled and winked at him, signaling thumbs up covertly.
Windenburg
Old downtown area, shopping district
Later that same week, the light, airy dinging of a store’s doorbell chimed as a man in his early forties stepped out onto the cobblestone street. His appearance was a strange mix of youthfully old, marked by years of substance abuse and a rough life. The bad boy looks clung to him, accentuated by his black hair, which fell well almost to his shoulders. A slight grey cast, more noticeable in certain lights, gave his hair character. It was slicked back, still dark enough to contrast with his steel blue eyes, making them pop. Despite not being technically handsome, there was an undeniable attractiveness about him, and he clearly had charisma.
He looked eye-catching without really standing out in his worn dark jeans and a leather biker jacket over a simple tee. His dark sneakers carried him with purpose as he scanned the surroundings with a nostalgic smile. His gaze settled on a flower shop, and he nodded to himself. From the inside pocket of his leather jacket, he pulled out a small, squarish black velvety box. Flipping it open, he revealed a ring—the diamonds in their setting glistening as they caught the sunlight. He smiled, before flicking the box shut again, slipping it back into the pocket, patting on it, he let out a sigh. Then, with deliberate steps, he headed toward the flower shop, anticipation in his stride…
EchoesOfLegacy 