Our Bruised Bodies | Bradley Bradshaw

ACT FIVE - PART TWELVE

This was strange, uncomfortable even and Bradley didn't know how to change it, how to do something about it. So, he leaned against the kitchen counter, a cup of coffee in hand, despite the late hour, while he secretly watched Grace sitting by the table in the dining area. She was going over some reports or something, a stack of papers laying in front of her, while she was scratching things, correcting and putting down notes. She had pulled one of her legs up, her elbow resting on her knee with her chin bedded against the back of her hand. Her gaze wandering over the written words on the pages.

Somehow it reminded Bradley of their time at the academy. Of late-night study sessions, of unhealthy food and aching fingers from taking notes all night and sitting exams all day. He also remembered watching her more than studying. Maybe she had always been a cruse made flesh.

Since then, a lot of things have changed. But that did not mean that he wasn't found of watching her be, of watching her being at home, sitting by the table in the dining area rather than in her office where she would be undisturbed. For a moment, he felt like this was their real life, like this was their normal, their every day. For a moment he could imagine, could pretend that Grace was a teacher maybe, taking home exams to mark after a lovely dinner over at their parents and he could be a mechanic or a musician, but this wasn't their life. It wasn't even close.

"With only a week of leave, I'm surprised you brought work with you." Bradley pointed out, wondering why he said that he was surprised when he actually hadn't expected anything else in the first place. Even though many things change, some simply don't.

"It's more research." Grace informed, not looking up from what she was reading.

Which had Bradley move. He pushed himself away from the kitchen counter and moved over to the dinning area table, before putting his cup of coffee down with more force than was strictly necessary, which had his wife pull her gaze from the paper she was reading to look up at her husband, who was now circling the table to stand right next to the chair on which Grace was sitting. Only to reach for Grace's upper arm, suddenly feeling this only slightly provoked rage, as his fingers wrapped around her biceps before he pulled her out of the chair so quickly without his hold on her, she would have stumbled.

"You're at home, so be present." Bradley almost ordered while pulling her closer, which caused Grace to drop her pen on the documents, letting it fall from a bit higher up, as if to emphasize her distaste for the situation, before she turned her head to look Bradley into his warm ember and liquid sunshine eyes, her own eyes reflecting an arctic storm.

"As present as you are?" She challenged, causing Bradley's expression to change, even more anger and frustration bleeding into it. He was about to answer, to say something, but his wife was quicker.

"You know what? How about for once you just say what you wanna say, Bradley. Spare us all this bullshit and be honest with me for once." Grace demanded which caused Bradley's hold to weaken around her arm for a moment.

"You know exactly why I don't just do that." The taller aviator pointed out, only to earn himself an unamused huff from his wife.

"Because you're a coward." Grace accused, but the older aviator did not raise up to the challenge. He stayed level-headed, at least for now.

"Because I don't want to say something that I can't take back. I don't want that guilt on my consciousness. I know you have no such reservations. You never had, not between us." It was another accusation standing between them, but it might also have been the truth.

"Then I will be honest." Grace said after a moment of silence. "This, us. It's too much." She warned Bradley while gesturing back and forth between them with her hand.