Crimson thieves, wasted knights.

When I went to bed last night in tears the kingdom was in flames, angry words preceding fists, endless wrong swallowing brief happiness whole.

When I woke up, my tears had dried on my cheeks and the world was new. Lochlan slept with his hands around my head. Ben had one hand on Lochlan's head and his other arm under and around me, holding my back tight against his chest. There was one extra arm was flung over Lochlan from his other side, Sam's caramel curls mixed with Loch's red, barely visible above the quilts.

My tiny kingdom, surrounded by water on three sides, with the most beautiful army you ever saw was still standing. They put out the fires, smoothed over the harsh words and made good on the promises they levied as proof of their worthiness, words that hold more value than strength, here. I capture it all with my hands and place it into my heart, warming it.

The army rests today.

The war is over.

For now. 

Ben lifts his head and asks if I'm awake. I nod and he squeezes me into his heart. Hearts within hearts. This is perfect.

Hungry? 

I don't want to leave this. 

Me neither. Go back to sleep then.

When I wake up next they're gone and it's only my blonde head that remains. The kingdom is cold and barren like a bad dream and I get up and cross to the window to count trucks.

They're all still here.

The sea still surround us.

We are still hearts within hearts.

I wasn't dreaming.

CFO vs. CEO.

(Nice to know he has my back. I suppose he's already had my front. Except this time he wants to make sure nobody gets fucked over. Where's the fun in that?)

There's something inside you that isn't right
There's something that haunts your dreams at night
There's something that you have lost
And you're bringing it down
You're bringing it down
On top of us

Batman was in the kitchen when I came back from seeing the kids off to school. I could feel something just emanating from him but I didn't know what it was.

Why did Caleb ask about payment for university, Bridge? Where's the money he gave you?

(It's tension.) Offshore, I guess? Maybe overseas? 

He reached out and grabbed me by the arm and said we needed to pay a little visit. I cried out and PJ got up and Batman whirled around and told him to sit the fuck down and out I was marched, across the slippery driveway half off my feet, up the steps and into Caleb's kitchen.

Where's her money, and why doesn't she have control of it?

Caleb looks at me and Batman shouts at him not to look at me. And to answer him. Now, please.

Caleb says it's invested. That since I don't need it for day to day expenses he may as well make it work for me. That after already transferring several accounts the paperwork was monumental so as investments come due Caleb is changing them over.

You need to let her choose a proxy.

She knows I'll look after it better than anyone. I worked for this. She's comfortable with me. You should all take your cues-

She has GODDAMN STOCKHOLM SYNDROME. She only thinks she loves you because you fucked with her until you broke something. I want everything signed over to her by the end of the week. You're retired now, right? Something to keep you busy. 

I think I'll leave it up to Bridget to deci-

She can't make these decisions. I just told you. I will take control of it alongside Lochlan and PJ until she needs or wants it. Does Lochlan have his funds?

He does. She's going to lose a lot of interest if I pull it now-

Then make up the difference. This isn't her fault, it's yours. 

Busy/Not busy.

Distracting. Sam paired his new ray of colors belt buckle with a grass green knit tie, which made him look like an adorable cartoon character, the businessman in a Scooby Doo show or something like that.

I went to church this morning (inside because rain again but at least it's almost warm) with Caleb and Christian and didn't need a hymnal (sometimes the hymns are really old and I know all the words), accompanied by my raucous headache and jittery hands from mainlining three more cups of coffee before we left to try and shake it, giving up and downing a handful of Tylenols instead.

Caleb drove, Christian followed in his own car because we had plans to go out for lunch after. At the last minute I invited Chris to join us but he was headed home to sleep off the God, as he put it and had some work to do that didn't want to see him out half the afternoon. He rarely leaves the house and works all the time it seems. I'm not sure if that's good or bad but outwardly he seems content and well-adjusted. He's never asked for much and he's very set in his way so I leave it at that. After Jacob flew Christian turned very slightly inward, noticeable enough but he never wants to talk about it. He and Jake were the Adrenaline twins with their rock climbing adventures and he no longer does that, doesn't snowboard, doesn't run unless I invite him along and maybe I just worry too much but I worry about the stark introversion of the entire Collective without end, most times.

I would say it isn't normal but then again nothing about any of us is, and that's why we're all together.

Our favorite lunch place was packed and so we found a different place but it wasn't private enough to talk much past pleasantries. Caleb asked about Ruth's university submissions and our plans to pay for it (Ben has asked to do that and has been squirrelling away money for years for the children, even long before we were a thing, which God bless him for that because Cole didn't have a dime) and how she's dealing with the pressure so we talked about that, mostly. He knows of Henry's plans, they talk constantly but Ruth is incredibly loyal to her father and so busy with her friends she doesn't make the rounds to talk to all the boys (save for PJ and Dalton -her favorites) and is a flash in the pan most days. I was too at that age (almost eighteen). Sometimes the boys would grab me out of thin air as I rushed past and asked me who I was again. It would make me laugh but it also made me sad, and I remind them often that once she gets settled in her future she'll be back with more time to spend. I think most of the time every last one of them is a proud father in some capacity and I love them for it.

Caleb kept his boundaries and his promises too and we were full and home by the appointed hour, and now I need a nap because this headache persists. I have a volunteer cuddler for it too, since Lochlan is still in bed sleeping. Perfect.

Dandy-free.

Sam walked into my bedroom this morning (I got to sleep in), put his Poland belt buckle on my night table and kissed my forehead.

Keep it safe, he laughed.

What is that? I stare at his new buckle. It's shiny and colourful. Almost a rainbow.

The flag for the Seychelles. 

Of course it is.

Hustler for life.

I'm been up since four-thirty this morning. I've had three giant mugs of coffee and five chocolate-chip cookies. The rest of the day should go well because I'm on a jittery roll.

I opened all the shutters on the windows, let the fire go out in the woodstove and the sun is pouring into the great room presently. It is part of the kitchen but is separated by a huge island and a table too so it was totally meant to be a sunroom. Only it's hardly ever sunny here so mostly it's a cozy area where it's perpetually warm and safe.

Sam is stretched out on the couch like a cat. The sun has turned his hair to gold and he's soaking up the warmth as I type. He was the first to come to me to negotiate a price and a timeline for me to do his taxes. Getting the jump on the rest, I hope, he said and I was so dismayed at the thought of having to do everyone's taxes again this year (they don't trust outsiders) that I doubled the price on a whim to try and dissuade him.

Ouch. Inflation?

Yes. Of course. I wink at him. Do you want that time slot or not? Hurry up, I have a waiting list.

Sure. Just tell me that you'll charge everyone even more and that I get a discount because I'm your favorite. 

I'll charge everyone even more and you get a discount because you're my favorite. I wink at him and he laughs.

Right. I get it. 

I hate taxes, Sam! 

But you're really good at it and I don't understand it at all. 

The fee is negotiable by the way. 

Wait. What? How? Umm....

Not like that, though, that thought is useful. I mean I'll cut your bill in half if you want to pay in goods. 

Goods?

The belt buckle, Sam. It needs to go. Let me have it and I'll put it away for posterity in a safe place and you can stop being an eighties cowboy.

This...this is part of me, Bridget. How dare you? I'll pay your whole fee. In fact, I'll pay fifty dollars more! But I'm keeping the buckle. Have you always felt this way?

I could care less. I just wanted to see if I could shake you down for a bigger fee. It worked. Imagine by the time I get through everyone in the house, I'll have enough to buy myself a new car this year after taxes are finished. 

Or you could just ask Caleb for one. 

Where's the fun in that?

This is not my post, it's an early-morning squeal.

There's something inside you that isn't right

Dear Lord. Starset has unclean vocals in their new album, Vessels. Lots of them.

*Dies happy*

Told you it wouldn't take much.

('Unclean' means death metal screaming, not dirty words if you have no idea what I'm talking about. We call it Cookie Monstering. The fact that I need to explain this MAKES BRIDGET SAD.)

Talking to a different ghost.

(Known her forever but it's like we just met.)

Back to the sea early today. Well, late enough that the children were up for school already (in a blur of honour roll certificates found crumpled among science papers and the excitement of graduation photos/shoes/dresses/tickets/fundraisers and college applications, mind you) and the men (it's time to stop calling them boys) had scattered to the four corners of the house and beyond.

I avoided the rocks as promised, hugging the cliff as I make my way left to the beach, slowly. When I get past the boulders and down to fine peagravel and sand I march right up to the tide and crouch down, sticking my hands in the water, flat, palms down. Up to the bracelets is as far as I can go else I'm facefirst in the seaweed.

Hello again. I'm here.

The cold saltwater (my blood, I swear) stings a cut on my hand and whitens my skin as my bluer, undiluted blood beats a hasty retreat back to my heart. The draw threatens to pull me in but it's only teasing.

I did it, I tell her. I made it back to him. She pulls back in blind surprise, before rushing at me for a brief frigid embrace. I stand up and take two big steps backward so the water doesn't flood into my rainboots. Eventually I learn the lessons I am meant to. It just takes a long time.

I go into the driftwood house. I sit on the little shelf-bench and look out the doorless doorway. The Pacific ocean is framed perfectly here. I watch the tide become higher. It won't be all the way in until dinner time but it was lowest while I slept in Lochlan and Ben's arms through the darkest hours. She's already busy covering the treasures she dropped on her hasty middle of the night retreat, knowing I'm awake and searching. I don't mind. She'll do it again tomorrow and every day after. And I'll be here to see it. I'll be here to collect them.

I'll be here.

Garage fire.

Twelve hours of talking, sleeping, sorting, and listening later and we've come back to where we're supposed to be. Loch is the love of my life. I know it. He knows it. Hell, everyone knows this. It's always been this way, since I was ten and my heart started doing that weird lurching thing every time I saw him. I've strayed along the way but I always come back.

I'm assured that my misguided loyalties as well as my attempts to leave the collective by marrying Jacob (AKA running away from the cult just as I've run from everything else all life long) are long forgiven and not taken personally. Loch promises me I didn't break his heart when I said that so quickly yesterday, so assuredly. His heart was already previously broken by everything else I'd done since we're bent on making sure life is an eye for an eye. He broke my heart at fourteen for the first time and just about every minute since yet here we are with two partially-fused, tangled-together, strangely-timed beating hunks of bloody romance and we're fucking thrilled. We kept score but we're happy to be here.

Fucking thrilled.

At least I am. He probably shouldn't be. I told him he got a raw deal with me and he corrected me and said he got everything he ever wanted in me.

I tried to listen more than I talked. I tried to hear him, really hear what's in his heart, interpret his words, listen to what his soul wants, what it feels. This sounds so cheesy, I know, but I tried to be better and it feels good to know we didn't have a catastrophe over a fleeting thought, that we can allow for space to make mistakes. God knows, we're so good at it.

I don't want him to end up like the others. I don't want to be a burden on him. I don't want drama and confusion and 'arrangements'. I like our big bed and our routines and our time together, just us and with Ben too. It just feels like I'm where I'm supposed to be. With Lochlan. Always his shadow. Always his view. His sounding board and his comfort. His muse. His prized possession. As he is with me.

I wouldn't trade Lochlan if Jacob came back to life tomorrow. I would tell Jake that he missed out. That he fucked up. That he bailed when I needed him. He bailed when LIFE needed him and that means he no longer has a place. It would hurt but that's what I would say. I can miss him until I'm blue in the face from holding my breath crying but at the end of the day I'm where I belong. Always with Loch.

(And sometimes with others but that's totally casual and completely sanctioned so whatever. Shut up.)

On being the antagonist of your own story.

(I need a mouth with a time delay.)

There's no dreams in the waves
Only monsters
and the monsters are my only friends

A very early trip down to the beach this morning heralds the end of the snow and what we're going to officially call 'spring' here on the west coast. Heavy rain that has no end in sight resumes, washing away the remainder of winter like it was merely a streak of dirt on a pristine surface.The stairs are clear, the beach is unfamiliar after such a lack of contact that I don't even know how to greet the ocean suddenly, stepping forward shyly like it's our first date.

Hello. I bend down and check the water temperature, sticking my hands in up to my bracelets.

It's freezing cold but clear. I stand back up and head over to check on the condition of our little driftwood house and the breakwater. There is still a thick layer of ice on the dock so we'll skip that side completely. The house stands strong. I go inside and check to make sure the little piles of seaglass are still inside. The boys leave them for me to collect and bring up to the house, offerings I can't bear to touch or alter in any way and so they stay right there, safe and sound.

Are these offerings to the ghosts? 

No. 

Are they attempts to bring some permanence to your surroundings? 

Jesus. You sound like August! 

Your life is never stable and it's my fault. 

My life is like the tides. In and out. Up and down. Exactly how it's supposed to be, if that's how it is.

That's a defeatist view. 

A realist view. That's your fault, if you're looking for blame to shoulder. 

It's not good to talk back to the love of your life-

You're not the love of my-

And I stopped and looked at him with horror.

He stood in place but closed his eyes so I couldn't see his expression.

He finally opens them again. At least if I'm going to be second best it's good that it's to someone who isn't here. How did he get so much weight, Bridget? How did he take that place from me?

He saved my life. 

Lochlan looks at the sky. Pain is all over his face. Agonizing realizations crush simple conversation into a tidal wave. Forget knowing how to swim. We don't stand a chance.

I suppose I should be grateful for that, he said. And I am. Truly. But I plan to replace him. 

Am I worth it? Because I'd like you to do that but only if it's worth it in the end. 

Oh, it is. You have no idea. I'd walk through fire for you. 

I'm pretty sure you already have. 

Then we're well underway. 

I'm sorry, Locket. It's not like I can compare. It's like when one of your children asks you who your favourite is. There isn't one-

I get it, Bridget. I guess if nothing else I'm glad you're honest and not lying through your teeth about where I stand. 

There's nothing to be gained from it. 

And then you evaluate the merit of telling the truth. I taught you too well. Some days I wish we could start over and then I wouldn't have to stand here arguing with a mirror. 

Well, that isn't nice at all. 

Maybe it isn't, but that isn't your fault either. 

(Update: he's not fooled by my rash declarations. I'm crushed by them but he insists it's just kneejerk loyalty to someone who isn't here to fight for himself, and that I don't really feel this way. I like his interpretation, mostly because he promises me I won't feel like this forever and that he was there before and he'll be here after. Forever. Happily ever after. Unlike Jacob.)

(Someday I'll be) Saturday Night.

(Let me just cover my eyes and blush like a fucking fool here. We're not going to discuss this in house but DAMN. It was fun.)

Sitting on his lap, he pulls me forward for a kiss. A very gentle kiss. He laughs into my mouth quietly. His arms slide around my back as he holds on tightly. So good. He presses me to his chest and I close my eyes.

At least stay tonight until I fall asleep.

Maybe. I promise nothing as he exhales against my throat. It gives me goosebumps.

Better than nothing, he whispers. Behind me I hear Loch get up and walk out of the room.

Caleb watches him leave and takes his cue. Are you okay with this?

I nod and he lies me back flat. He begins to unlace my dress, smiling quietly to himself. Like he's opening a present. I smile back at the devil. So far so good. He swears and gives up quickly, instead lifting the hem of my dress up from the bottom. I arch my back and he pulls it off my body gently, swearing softly at what he sees. Tattoos in vintage lingerie. Beautiful delicate lace and satin in colors to rival the cashmere from before.

Wow.

Yeah. Hey? Isn't it beautiful?

Yes. I like it.

But then it's on the floor and he's busy fighting muscle memory. Instead of letting history run a familiar scenario, he's trying to start over. He wants this to be new. No mistakes. No loss of control or emotions. No winners, no losers. Good experiences only.

I cry out and Lochlan comes back. He turns to go out again and Caleb calls to him. Come in. Come here. Hold her.

Something flashes across Loch's face that I don't recognize and he responds, joining us. The night becomes a blur and I am shaking when I finally untangle myself from them. They keep reaching for me though and I can't do anymore. I fall asleep with one arm around Lochlan's neck, in a spoon with Caleb, Lochlan's free arm thrown over us both. He's up higher than we are so his arm is mostly against my cheek. The music keeps playing from the living room and I fall asleep hard. I'm not bitten. I'm not ashamed. I'm thrilled that Lochlan came back and didn't leave me here alone. I'm wondering how long it will hold. Lochlan's generosity. Caleb's temperament. My bravery. Pick something.

I get my first answer at three-thirty when sleep is abruptly broken as I am lifted off the bed. Surprised, I cry out softly. Caleb pushes me up against the door and shoves himself into me so violently I can't breathe. He drives hard against me as I hyperventilate, trying to catch my breath around his fingers, his hand over my mouth. I try to peel his fingers away and he takes my hands, pinning them high up over my head with his left hand. His right hand is underneath me, holding me up and I can't help myself.

Come for me, Doll. Come hard. Right now.

I always follow his orders and this time he's right behind me. His fingers lift away from my mouth so I can breathe again just in time to ride the wave of adrenaline and he keeps me there forever until he joins me on that wave. He gently slides me down so that my feet touch the floor. Lochlan is sitting up. He wants you now, Caleb whispers into my hair from behind me now and I go back to Lochlan, who puts his arms out, pulling me in, pulling me underneath him, back to holding me so tightly breath is going to be the one thing that doesn't come easily tonight. Lochlan's not going to be shown up. Not tonight. He turns me over and then lifts my whole body up so I'm still pressed against him, head back against his shoulder, eyes closed as he picks up speed against me, one hand jammed down underneath me until I'm seeing stars. I practically keen and he matches the sound, putting his head down against my back, pushing me down on my face as he leverages his weight on me while his hands pull my hips up hard against him. He finishes as all nice guys do.

Last.

Best for last.

We have another toast, this time with bedhead and I can hardly hold my glass for my hands are shaking too much.

Time to go. Lochlan smooths my hair back down, kissing the top of my head. He dresses quickly and then pulls my dress down over my head and laughs at my surprised expression when my face pops out the top.

It's good to be on the right side of things again. Caleb shakes Lochlan's hand and then impulsively pulls him in for a hard hug. Lochlan hugs him back but it's hesitant. Guarded still. Even after this.

Caleb pulls me up and gazes at my face. Go get a little sleep, Neamhchiontach. You've made an old man very happy tonight. 

Yeah, he is, isn't he? I look at Lochlan who waits at the doorway for me. Relief is on his face mixed with a little guilt maybe. And there's some incredulity in there as well. This is the way he looks when he wakes up every morning in a cuddle with Ben when he thinks it's me. It's the most adorable thing on the planet and I wouldn't trade it for anything.

Come on, Peanut. We need some rest. 

Thank you for bringing her, Caleb tells him.

She brought me. 

Thank you for bringing him, then. Caleb says to me and I'd laugh but I'm too tired now.