by Layne, Ivy
Diving to the side, I pulled her out of his reach, shoving both her and Adam behind me. “Garage. Now.”
I heard more than saw Lily grab Adam and take off down the hall. I was on Dave before he could get his bearings, throwing punch after punch.
I was done with this fucker.
Done with his crude comments about Lily.
Done with his entitlement.
Done with this little man thinking he could threaten my woman. My boy.
Just. Fucking. Done.
Deputy Dave Morris wanted to be a player, but he was about to leave the stage.
I pulled back to take a good look at the blood streaming from his nose and mouth. His dazed eyes met mine in disbelief, lips closing and opening, sounds choppy.
“—oo 'an't. 'oo 'an't.”
“I can, and I did, motherfucker.” I snagged the cuffs from his belt and secured his hands behind his back before tossing him over my shoulder. Deputy Dave might press charges this time, but we wouldn't be here.
I jogged through the woods, dumping Dave in the dirt beneath the pine trees and refastened the cuffs behind his back.
“One last thing,” I said, “Lily's house is wired, inside and out. I guarantee you that you won't spot all of the cameras. If I catch you breaking in again, I won't call the state police, I'll call Andrei Tsepov. He doesn't like loose ends, and right now, he can't afford a fuckwad local cop drawing attention to his business. Got me?”
I saw the exact moment he understood, the impotent rage in his eyes dissolving into abject terror. Yeah, he got me.
I left him there, handcuffed to the tree. Dave was no genius, but he wasn't a complete idiot. He'd figure out a way to get free. It didn't matter. He wouldn't be found on Lily's property, and we'd be long gone.
Jogging back to the house, I cleaned up his blood from the floor, packing away the paper towels to dispose of on the road.
A quick shower, change of clothes, and I tossed the last of my gear into the SUV. Lily was waiting in the passenger seat, a wet towel pressed to her temple. Adam babbled nonstop, filled with worried questions she couldn't answer.
At the sight of me, he fell silent. I slid into the driver's seat and reached over to nudge Lily's hand from her temple. My gut turned at the raw patch of skin, bleeding sluggishly. It was tiny, not bigger than a dime, but that didn't matter.
It was Lily, my Lily, and she got hurt under my watch. I leaned in closer, pressing my forehead to hers. “I'm so sorry, baby. That shouldn't have happened.”
“It's not your fault, Knox. I should have stayed behind you. I wasn't thinking.”
“You okay?”
“It stings, that's all. Where's Dave?”
I sat back, fastened my seatbelt and hit the garage door remote. As we pulled out, I sent Lily a wink.
“Handcuffed to a tree in the woods two houses over. I don't think he'll be bothering you anymore.” Tossing her my phone, I said, “Set the alarm, Lil. We're hitting the road.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Lily
Five hours is a long time to be stuck in a car with a five-year-old. A lot of people think New England is a bunch of little states all squished together, but Maine is pretty big. The drive to central New Hampshire was beautiful and endless.
It didn't help that I was twisted with nerves, imagining what might happen once we reached our destination. I carried my mother's letters in the front seat with me, reading them again and again, reassuring myself that I was wanted.
She'd missed me. I thought I'd never see her again. Years of grief and loss had been bottled up, and the letters popped the cork, letting it all out in a fountain of heartbreak and need.
Need for my mom. For my dad, as strict and distant as he'd been. Stingy with hugs, quick to disapprove, but he'd loved me.
Some parents hurt with neglect. My dad was the opposite. My dad hurt because he loved too much, and with that love came expectations and ultimatums.
I watched Adam in the rear-view mirror, happily kicking his feet while playing a game on my phone. Screen time restrictions were lifted when we were stuck in a car for hours. In between stops for the bathroom—far too many of them—I'd give anything to keep him quiet.
What would they think of Adam? Would they care that he was adopted? That he was mine yet not mine? I couldn't bear the thought that we might reunite, and I'd have to leave because they couldn't accept my son.
I couldn't bear the thought, but I had to acknowledge it was a possibility. They hadn't accepted Trey. What made me think they'd except a child who was clearly Trey's and just as clearly had not come from my body?
I'd protect Adam from anything, including my own parents. I prayed I wouldn't have to.
For most of the drive, it felt like we'd never get there. Then, familiar landmarks came into view. My stomach knotted, and I wished the drive would never end.
I didn't want to do this. I wanted to be past this part, past the awkward introductions and the uncertainty. I reached out to touch Knox's arm. He turned his wrist and closed his fingers around mine.
“It's going to be okay, Lily,” he said, too low for Adam to hear. “And if it's not, we're out of there.”
I nodded, my throat too tight to talk. If it wasn't okay, we'd leave. Simple as that.
And from here to Atlanta, and Knox's family, and a whole new set of worries. His brother didn't approve of our relationship. Lucas, Charlie, and Griffen had been great, but Knox's brothers—
Can it, Lily. Obsess over one thing at a time. If you try to worry about all of it at once, your brain is going to explode.
My brain might explode anyway.
By the time the SUV pulled into my parents' driveway I was so nauseous with nerves I thought I was going to throw up. Knox's hand pressed to my back, urging me to lean forward and put my head between my knees. His fingers stroked up my spine, easing my tight muscles.
“You want me to go first? Clear the way?”
For a second, I wanted to say yes. Yes, please go fix this for me so I don't have to see the rejection in my dad's eyes. The disappointment in my mother's face.
No freaking way, Lily, I lectured myself. Grow a spine. You have a son. You can forgive yourself for the past, but not if you keep making bad decisions. Woman up and go knock on the door.
Sucking in a breath through my nose, I held it, letting it out slowly before I sat up and unsnapped my seatbelt. “I can do this. I'm ready,” I lied.
“You want us to wait in the car?” Knox asked. He did not like that option. I loved that he offered it anyway. I could pretend to be brave, but I couldn't do this alone.
“No. I think you two should come with me.”
I got out of the car, my hands shaking only a little as I unfastened my seatbelt. I met Knox at the hood, taking Adam's little hand in mine.
“Where are we, Mom?”
“This is the house where I grew up. We're going to see if your grandparents are home.”
“Really? You lived here when you were little?”
“I did. And it looks exactly the same.”
The flowerbeds in the front of the house were different, of course. My mother had inherited her mother's love of gardening, hence her name, Rose, and mine. She changed the design of the beds almost every year, but, flowers aside, everything was the same.
The same pristine white siding and forest-green shutters. The same wraparound porch with white swing. Walking distance to campus with a sunlit studio tucked in the backyard, it was the perfect house for a professor and his artist wife.
I didn't know my father's class schedule anymore, had no idea if they'd be home, but I hadn't had the nerve to call ahead.
Looking down at Adam, I forced a bright smile. “Should we ring the bell?”
He darted ahead, dragging me along with him. Knox followed behind. I rang the
bell, listening to it echo through the house, the familiar tones bringing on a wave of nostalgia so sharp tears stung my eyes.
Silence inside, but that didn't mean anything. If my father was in his office, or my mother in her studio, it might take them a while to investigate the ring of the bell. I gave it thirty seconds and rang again, blinking away the moisture in my eyes.
Finally, the steady cadence of feet in the hall. Too heavy to be my mother. My breath grew tight.
Between the two of them, I'd rather see my mother first, but I'd take what I could get.
The door opened.
My father stood there, looking exactly the same and alarmingly different. Older. His walnut skin was wrinkled at the forehead. There were threads of gray in his close-cropped dark hair. Reading glasses tangled around his neck, but those weren't new.
His slouchy khakis and worn argyle cardigan with leather patches on the elbows were exactly the same. My dad dressed like the stereotypical stuffy professor he was. No amount of teasing from my more flamboyant mother could prompt him to try anything else.
His eyes flared with surprise when he saw me. The hint of emotion kindled hope in my heart. Then surprise was sucked away, and his face went blank.
“Lily. You're here.”
“Yes. I—”
Why hadn't I thought about what to say? Five hours in the car, reading my mother's letters over and over, and I never planned what to say.
From beside me, a little voice broke into the silence. “Are you my grandpa?”
I squeezed Adam's hand, sending a prayer to the heavens that my dad would say the right thing. My father looked at me in question.
“Dad, I'd like you to meet my son, Adam.”
Another flare in my father's eyes, an emotion I couldn't read. I'd never been able to read him well.
To my relief, he bent a little at the waist and held out a hand to Adam. In his measured, professor voice, he said, “Yes, if you're Lily's son, I would be your grandfather. It's nice to meet you.”
He hadn't exactly held his arms open in welcome, but it was better than nothing. Shifting awkwardly on the doorstep I said, “I, uh, I—”
Realizing I was making a mess of this, I stepped back to nudge Knox up to my side.
“Dad, this is Knox Sinclair. He's—”
Knox stuck out his hand and gripped my father's, giving it a firm shake. “I'm with Lily. May we come in?”
My father stepped back, his eyes darting from Knox to me to Adam and back to me. “I'll get your mother.”
He left us standing in the hall and strode in the direction of the back door. She must be working in her studio.
I'd grown up in this house, but I didn't feel comfortable exploring. Not yet. Not until I knew we were welcome. From what I could see, everything looked the same. Same dining room furniture, the living room sofa in the same navy velvet with the same tapestry blanket draped over the back.
The screen door at the back of the house slammed shut. My mother strode down the hall, back straight, chin high, long blond hair streaming behind her.
Her loose, poppy-red shirt flowed over skinny jeans to feet covered in paint-splattered Converse sneakers. Truly, most of her was paint splattered. Nothing new there.
Closer to Knox's height than mine, she towered over me, arms crossed over her chest, gaze appraising. I felt the weight of it as she absorbed me. My poofy, natural curls, gone wild in the humidity of summer. My freckles, darker from playing in the lake with Adam. My casual sundress and sandals.
She let out a breath I hadn't realized she was holding, her arms coming around me with wiry strength, drawing me close. Mouth at my ear, she breathed, “Lily. My baby. My baby girl. Oh, Lily.”
I wrapped my arms around her slender body, burying my face against her shoulder. She smelled the same, like flowers and earth and turpentine. My chest hitched with a sob, and I held her tighter, able to say only, “Mom. Mom.”
Adam tugged at my dress. His brows knit together, eyes shadowed with worry, he pulled harder. “Mommy?”
I pulled away from my mother and closed Adam's hand in mine. “Mom? This is Adam. My son.”
My mother's eyes fastened on Adam's face, fixed on his features. I knew what she saw. Trey. Not me. I braced, ready to scoop up my boy and take off if she gave even the slightest hint he wasn't welcome.
Abruptly, her grey eyes filled with tears. She dashed them away with the back of her hand and dropped to her knees, opening her arms in a hug. Adam went to her, his voice muffled by her paint-stained shirt. “You're my grandma? Why is everyone crying?”
In the crisp voice that had delivered so many parental lectures, she answered, “Because we haven't seen each other in a very long time, and we're happy to be together now.”
“Why would you cry when you're happy?”
“Because my heart is so full it hurts, just a little. A good hurt. I never imagined I had a grandson.”
“I didn't know I had a grandma.”
I was a huge jerk. It was Trey's fault our estrangement had lasted so long, not mine. I still felt like a jerk for not telling Adam he had grandparents he'd never met.
If Adam thought it was weird adults cried when they were happy, he'd be shocked as hell to grow up and discover we felt all sorts of things that made no sense. Grief at what wasn't lost. Guilt where there was no fault. The human heart knows no logic, no matter how we might wish it would.
My mother stood, keeping an arm around Adam's shoulder. Her assessing stare landed square on Knox. Not waiting for me to jump in, he dealt with her the same way he had my father.
“Knox Sinclair. I'm with Lily.” As if that were explanation enough. For now, it would have to be.
Holding her counsel, my mother gave a brisk nod. “I see.” Dismissing us, she reached for Adam's hand. “Was it a long drive? Do you need the bathroom and a snack?”
As always, mention of the bathroom reminded Adam of his bladder. Dancing from foot to foot, he nodded. “It was so long. We were in the car forever. After Mr. Knox hit Deputy Dave, we had to leave and—”
“Why don't I show you the bathroom and get you something to eat?” she interrupted with an arch look at Knox and me.
“K. Is this where my Mom lived?”
Knox slipped his arm around my waist as we followed them down the hall to the kitchen. “He threw us right under the bus, didn't he?” Knox said, amused.
“Little booger.” I couldn't even be mad. He was five. Seeing Knox hit Dave had been the height of excitement in his short life. His hero, taking out the bad guy. Of course, he'd told my Mom. He probably would have told the gas station attendant if there'd been one.
Adam was already in the powder room when we reached the kitchen. My mother's cool eyes didn't miss Knox's arm around my waist.
“Tea? I have a new blend. Does Adam like apples and peanut butter? We can take it outside so he can run around in the yard.”
“No tea for me, Mrs. Adams,” Knox said.
“I'll take some. Adam loves apples and peanut butter. And the yard would be great.”
My Mom's tea blends were hit and miss. Some were heavy with fruit and flowers, ambrosia whether hot or iced. Some tasted like the rich garden soil she loved so much. I was hoping for fruit and flowers instead of dirt, but I'd drink it either way.
With a glance down the hall at the closed bathroom door, my mother asked quickly, “What happened to Trey?”
Knowing we didn't have much time, I said, “He died. Almost a year ago.”
“And the deputy?” This question she aimed at Knox.
“Trey left Lily some trouble. I work in security. I came up to help.”
“And stayed?” she asked archly. Knox gave a single nod of his head, holding her eyes with his. Whatever she saw there must have satisfied her. “Are they safe? My daughter and my grandson?”
&nb
sp; “For now,” Knox said. “We can only stay the night, and then I’m going to move them somewhere secure until my brothers and I can clean up Trey’s mess.”
For the first time, raw emotion broke through my mother’s controlled expression. “Only one night? You just got here.”
“We’ll come back,” I cut in, “as soon as it’s safe to stay longer. This is the last place anyone would look, but—”
“What the hell did that bastard do?” she asked, aiming the question at Knox.
“You don't want to know, and I can't tell you. Lily and Adam are almost clear of him. It won't be much longer before this is over.”
I hoped Knox was telling the truth. With Tsepov missing and Dave to deal with, I wasn't sure it would be that easy.
Down the hall, the rush of a toilet flushing interrupted. A second later I caught the sound of water running into the sink. Grownup time was over. Knox met my eyes and cocked a brow. I knew what he was asking, and I nodded.
“I need to check the house, secure the property while we're here, just in case. That okay with you, Mrs. Adams?”
“Of course. Do what you have to do. My husband should be in his office upstairs. He can show you around.”
Knox disappeared as Adam came back into the room. My mother loaded glasses of iced tea and Adam's snack on a tray. We followed her out the back door to the seating area on the porch overlooking the yard.
Adam went straight for the sliced apples and peanut butter, gobbling them down as if he hadn't eaten in days. I took a glass of iced tea from the tray, the scent of melon and strawberries drifting to my nose. My mother sat beside me on the wicker loveseat.
Quietly, so Adam couldn't hear, she murmured, “You named him after us. Adam.”
So much to say that I couldn't. Not with my son sitting right there. I settled for, “I never got your letters. Not until yesterday. He hid them.”
My mother drew in a shocked breath. “You never got my letters? Any of them?”
“No.”
“And that letter. You didn't write it.”
“I didn't know. I didn't think you wanted me to write. Whatever that letter said, it wasn't from me.”
