Bondings in Life - an In Death series fanfic (J.D. Robb)

Roarke's Moments

They call me Junior even that's not my name.

My parents never call me that, and besides, my real name's more dignified and appealing. I couldn't remember when it all started, but according to Ma, others called me in that nickname since I was a baby. It was my looks, the majority said, especially the dark hair and deep-blue eyes. Like a spitting image of my Da.

And speaking of my Da, he was holding my arm as we entered his building. I tried to admire the vast area with gleaming floors and mag decorations, but couldn't find a heart to do so. Ever since he fetched me to school and rode a limo going here, he was not talking to me.

Several employees greeted us as we passed, with Da responding them the same greetings. He was not looking at me, and I guess these employees could sense the atmosphere. When we entered the glides, I buried my face in his suit for shame. He was still holding my arm – not too tight, not too hard.

Caro was waiting for us at the elevator entrance. She looked at Da first then to me. Her eyes were full of pity, which I bet it was for me, so I moved to Da closer until we entered his office. He let me sat on the couch then went to the bar counter.

"I'm sorry," was all I could say.

Da went back with a medicine kit. He opened it and laid the contents on the couch.

"I'm sorry.", I said it again.

Da was opening a cap of ointment, rubbed his fingers with it, then dabbed it to my left temple. He was not talking me, looking at me, or listening to me.

So I cried.

Keith said that boys never cry, only the sissy ones. But he was not here, or anybody else besides Da and me, so I'll just keep this as a secret. I couldn't help but burst out when you're all guilty and the person you're sorry for won't acknowledge it.

A large hand pulled me closer to warm shoulders, patting my back to ease my hiccups, then cradled me. I love it when Da carry me or have my piggy-back ride. I hugged him tightly, burying my face in his mane hair. He finally looked at me, and while I am expecting to see an anger there, all I saw was sadness.

"Did I hurt you?", Da asked.

I shook my head. He pulled a hanky to wipe the tears from my eyes, then lightly squeezed my nose – maybe I got a snot there. Ew.

"Did you know why Da was mad at you?"

"I got myself into trouble.", I replied as I nod.

"And then?"

"I got myself hurt."

He put me down on the couch again then finished dabbing my eye. The throbbing sensation I felt there was gone, maybe because the ointment was more effective than our stingy cream in the school clinic.

"But Da, I was just defending myself. Keith and Rolly and Bert called me a rich, pampered, spoiled brat."