𝑀𝒮. 𝒞𝒜𝑅𝐸 𝒯𝒜𝒦𝐸𝑅

2 | Mystery

Christian's POV:

I kiss Julian's forehead and shut the story book.

"Dad." His tiny voice stopped me in my tracks to the door.

"Yes." I turned around and looked at him. He was sad as he laid in his bed.

"Could you-?" He stopped himself in between his sentence shutting his eyes.

"What is it Julian?" I wanted him to talk to me. I couldn't expect him to want to talk to me, but I needed him to.

From afar I watch his mother bonding beautifully with her new child with another man. I didn't expect her to move on as quick as she did. We broke up 4 years ago, and not even a month later she was with this new guy.

She left me with Julian and I hate it.

I hate that I can't be the father that this young boy deserves because of the way I am. I get mad easily. I kill people for a living. I hurt innocent people because they've been bad to me. I don't want to accidentally lash out at him because of the way I grew up. I would never forgive myself if I hurt Julian.

He deserves a father who will read him more than one story at night, and a father who doesn't have a babysitter being his second parent. 

"Forget it, goodnight dad." He tucked himself deeper into his plain grey sheets stuffing his head in between two pillows.

I sighed walking back to the bed and carefully sitting on the edge of the bed. I don't know how to be a father but the least I can do is try. I know I'm not doing a good job though. Or at least the best job.

"Talk to me." I moved the covers off his body turning him to face me.

"Can I-?" He stopped again. He looked at me as I held a glare from work on my face. "Never mind. Goodnight dad." He tried to turn over but my face softened and I turned him back around.

"Son. Tell me." He shut his eyes and spoke again.

"Can I sleep with you?" He finally asked.

I'd never had another person in my bed after Julian's mother. Julian didn't dare sleeping with me either.

"See, just forget it dad. Goodnight." I just stare at the boy in front of me.

"Come on." I picked Julian up putting him to my hip and walking him to my room.

I placed my son on the bed, tucking him into the silk black sheets.

"Julian," I started. "If you ever need anything, just ask." I watched him and nod his head, tucking himself into the blanket. I don't want him to be afraid to ask something to his own father.

I quickly showered and got dressed in a shirt for the first time for bed. I usually don't wear anything but a pair of plain sweats, but I don't know if he'd be comfortable to see his father shirtless when he wakes up. 

I don't know if I'd be comfortable with sleeping with him shirtless. I have many bruises and scars on my back and that's not a sight I'm proud of. I wouldn't want him to see my failures.

I got myself in bed and looked at the little boy laying there sleeping.

I really wanted to be there for him. I just don't know how to. I'm not someone who grew up with the loving affection of parents. I was taught how to take over the family business the second I could form a proper sentence.

While all my school friends played video games at each others houses, I went to shooting ranges trying to hit targets as best as possible. And when I wouldn't do it right, I'd come home to my father being disappointed. He'd take his belt off and give me 2 welts for every bad shot.