Pieces of Us: A Confessions of the Heart Stand-Alone Novel

by Jackson, A. L.

  “Fine,” he grumbled and retreated back into his study, and I set my hand on the doorlatch and the dead bolt, counted to three—inhale-exhale-inhale—before I turned the lock and opened the door.

  Was stupid to be taking in all those deep breaths, considering when I opened the door, Maxon was standing right there, and I was hit with a swell of lightheadedness.

  The man so stunning, I was shooting a hand out to the jamb to keep myself standing, knees going weak.

  The stubble from yesterday had been shaven, his face so pretty it could make a girl weep.

  Wearing dark jeans that fit him just right, a blue-collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up those muscled forearms, all the colors on his arm sending my mind into a whirl.

  A spiral of patterns that sucked me right in.

  I wobbled.

  He chuckled. “Whoa there, Little Bird. You okay?”

  My head jerked up when he called me by the nickname he’d given me the first time he’d seen me, and my shallow breaths were turning ragged.

  Everything came at me all at once.

  I steadied myself, pulling it together the best that I could, a weak but real smile arching at one side of my mouth.

  Because I realized right then I had no shame. I’d done nothing wrong. It was time I pulled up my big-girl panties and stopped acting like this man held the power to shatter our world.

  We’d been living just fine without him all along.

  “I’m glad you came.” It was the truth.

  His lips twisted up, this perfect mesh of arrogance and sweetness, dimple peeking out.

  “That’s good because I’m really glad you invited me.”

  I chewed at my lip. “I’ve been needin’ to talk to you.”

  A little frown pulled to his brow, and I thought maybe it was just then he realized that when I’d said we had some things to sort out, I really meant it. It wasn’t just a simple apology. A shake of hands, an awkward hug, and the promise of starting again.

  “Okay.” His tone turned nervous.

  I jutted my chin out to the covered porch, and he took a step back, gesturing for me to go ahead of him. Our arms brushed as I passed. Heat blasted across my skin, the man too much, his presence just as potent as the thick air that sagged in the summer sky.

  Birds chirped all around, and the trees rustled in the hot breeze, and the smell of our home was coming at me from all sides.

  Wild jasmine dancing in my nose, all mixed up with the scent of the woods and the sea.

  His aura slipping and sliding and taking hold of me.

  I shivered and took a few steps out onto the porch. I was back to crossing my arms over my chest as I stood facing away from him, wondering how in the world I was supposed to tell him this.

  “Izzy.” That rough voice hit me from behind, worry and concern coming out with it, and there was no resisting the lure, and I slowly spun around, hit again with the full force of the man.

  “I need to tell you something before we go inside,” I whispered like caution.

  He raked a hand through those dark blond locks, the epitome of the description of sand. Shiny, sunny strands dappled with browns.

  “Figured you might have a few things you needed to say to me,” he said. “Same as I have a few things I need to say to you.”

  My smile teetered, and I was trying to hold on. Trying not to break down right there.

  “I have children.” I figured I just had to get it out before I lost the nerve.

  I watched the words penetrate him. The shock and the hurt and the jealousy.

  Maybe a little curiosity.

  Then it was acceptance that came riding in. The man knew he had no right to any of the earlier ones. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know I wanted a family. A big one.

  Heck, I’d dreamed of it with him right here on this very porch. We’d sit rocking on the swing in the night with fireflies humming around us. Sometimes we dreamed those dreams sitting in my tree, and sometimes in my room which had led to bad, bad things that had felt so incredibly good.

  The memories of it seemed to echo around us then, whipping and whirring and inciting those old feelings that might have been better off left dead.

  His throat bobbed heavily when he swallowed, and he was back to rubbing at the back of his neck, doing his best to hold back his disappointment and anxiety.

  I understood that.

  Was okay with that.

  I guessed in a whole lot of ways, I’d been disappointed, too. But the hurt and betrayal had outweighed all of that.

  I let him process, the man looking off into the distance, his big body vibrating as he bounced a few times. Finally, he looked back at me. “Okay.”

  Okay.

  I rubbed my hands up my arms. It was way too hot to get a chill, but I felt something cold sweeping through me.

  He took a step forward, angling down. He touched my cheek.

  Fire flashed. Warming me. Head to toe.

  God, I couldn’t let myself get lost in this man right then.

  “It’s okay. I get it. We’ve been apart for a long, long time. Never expected you not to move on with your life. It’s what I’d hoped you’d do. Find something better. But I’d be a liar if I said I’m not fucking thrilled that you’re back.”

  Moisture welled in my eyes, faster than I could stop it. I wasn’t sure if it was because I didn’t know if I could ever forgive him for what he’d done. If I could ever open my heart enough to go there with him again. At the same time, I wanted to so badly.

  But this was bigger than what I wanted.

  “Maxon . . . it’s more than that.”

  My explanation froze on my tongue when the door banged open, and in a blur, Dillon came stampeding out onto the porch. Two feet away from Maxon, he came to a screeching halt.

  It took me a second to process that he’d gone and disobeyed, and my already fried nerves were zapping and crackling. “Dillon.” My voice was sharp, a little bit horror and a lot angry that he hadn’t listened.

  “What did I tell you about waitin’ inside?”

  But he didn’t have time to answer before Maxon was swiveling around, and I was moving toward Dillon, too, this feeling coming over me to get in front of my son. To be right there in case I needed to protect him.

  Not that I would ever think Maxon would purposefully hurt him. And in a physical way?

  Never.

  But it was my job to protect my children the best way that I could. To shield them and hold them and ensure the relationships they were a part of, the ones they made, were the healthiest they could be.

  “Hey, there,” Maxon said, so softly and with so much affection that my scrambled heart throbbed in an overwhelming bout of emotion. “What’s your name?”

  “I’m Dillon. Are you really a cop? Do you have a gun? Have you had to shoot anyone? Do you get scared at your job?”

  There my son went, rambling his unending slew of questions, while I was struggling to stand. To remain calm. To see this out before I totally lost my nerve and asked Maxon if we could do this another time.

  Maxon chuckled and glanced up at me with a smile on his face, so big that it was making it hard for me to see anything but him kneeling there.

  The kindness.

  The goodness.

  All the things I’d thought I’d seen in him before he’d proven just how cruel he could be.

  I shook it off. I had to focus. I wasn’t finished. “Dillon, you weren’t supposed to come out here until I was finished talking with Mr. Chambers. You need to go back inside.”

  “Ah, Mom. Why do you gotta be such a funsucker? I was just sayin’ hi.” He turned his attention back to Maxon, lowering his voice. “My mom is so serious all the time but that’s okay because she’s got the weight of the whole world on her shoulders. Life’s hard, Mr. Chambers.”

  Maxon laughed, and then he wasn’t laughing any more.

  I could feel it.

  The shift in the air.

  My alarm becom
ing his.

  His spine stiffened. This staggering wave of energy cracked through the air as he straightened.

  The man stumbled.

  As if he’d been burned.

  Broken.

  I guessed I should have prepared myself for this, for his reaction to seeing Benjamin standing at the door.

  Nine

  Mack

  Horror.

  Gutting, ravaging horror.

  It clutched every cell in my body, freezing me in that moment. I blinked, trying to break free, but those chains only cinched down tighter.

  Was surprised I could even register it when Izzy scrambled around me. “Both of you . . . get back inside. Right now.”

  “But mom,” the little one argued.

  “Now, Dillon. Right now.” Her voice was desperate, flooded with panic as she tried to get her kids back inside.

  While I stood there. Hands fisted in my hair. Freaking the fuck out. Trying not to puke right there on the ground.

  Wanted to pry my eyes away, but there was nothing I could do but stare at the kid in the doorway. This kid who was way too skinny and had these crutches that looked like he used every day and had the exact fucking eye color as mine.

  Same as it looked like his face could have been carved out of me.

  Jesus.

  Reality crashed. A tidal wave. Devastating.

  I had a kid. I had a kid.

  And Izzy hadn’t told me.

  Izzy’s mother was suddenly there, clambering around to help. “I’m so sorry, Izzy Mae. I was getting the chicken from the pan onto the platter and they slipped out before I could stop them.”

  “Just, get them inside,” she pled, and finally they were wrangled in, the door slamming shut, leaving just Izzy and me on the porch.

  Rage came eating up the shock I’d initially felt.

  Fury and hurt.

  Fury and hurt.

  They cut and slashed and filleted, knives slicing deep, pain screaming so loud I could barely hear. Could barely stand. Could barely breathe.

  Problem was, I didn’t know who to aim the fury at.

  Izzy stood with her back to me, her shoulders pumping up and down, the silence echoing between us with the force of a storm.

  A storm that assuredly would decimate.

  Bile rolled up my throat, and my chest was heaving, body starting to shake with a turbulence I stood no chance at keeping at bay. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” I growled.

  She whirled on me, tears streaming down her face, but there was fury on her face, too. Written on every inch. “No, Maxon, it’s not a joke. Does my life look like a joke to you?”

  I pressed my fists to my eyes, trying not to fucking break down right there and sob like a bitch. Was not a crying man. But considering I’d just been knocked with the reality that I had a kid and I’d missed out on twelve years of his life, I was thinking I’d earned a pass.

  I dropped them just as fast. Just feeling . . . irate and pissed and fucking worried.

  So confused that I couldn’t see, the world spinning around me, going faster and faster. I pointed at her house. “What’s wrong with him?” It was a haggard demand.

  Izzy gasped and reared back, and those hazel eyes flashed with disgust. “You just saw your son for the first time, and the only thing you can think to ask is what is wrong with him?” Incredulity blazed from her, her pain as thick as mine.

  It was mixing together, pouring out to become this boiling vat of animosity that roiled in the middle of us.

  I scrubbed both hands over my face, so goddamned frustrated, so goddamned mad. Red flickered at the edges of my sight, that old hatred rising up fast.

  Hatred at myself.

  Hatred at my father.

  Hatred of Izzy for keeping this from me.

  “Well, excuse the hell out of me, Izzy, for not having the right words when I find out I have a kid that I didn’t know about.” I slammed the tips of my fingers into my chest over my heart. “That I have a kid who obviously is disabled, and I didn’t have a fucking chance to be there for him.”

  Anguish came bursting out of her mouth, and her head swiveled from side-to-side in huge rolls of disbelief. “Are you seriously goin’ to stand there and act as if this was my fault?” She took a step toward me, her face pinching up. “Are you seriously going to stand there and make accusations?”

  She took another, and the air was getting thinner, and the only thing I was breathing was Izzy Lane.

  “You ruined me, Maxon. You broke my heart. You betrayed me.” The words were harsh. Livid. Bullets impaling me, one after another.

  “And then when I needed you most . . .” Her chin quivered. Tears streamed free. “When I begged you to call me, you didn’t. Tell me, whose fault that is?”

  Guilt screamed. Too much. Clotting in my chest. Expanding until I was suffocating. “Mine.”

  Mine.

  It was the only thing I could manage, and I could feel myself cracking. Coming unhinged. Before I lost it, I turned and fled.

  “Don’t you dare run from this, Maxon Chambers.” Izzy’s voice pierced me from behind.

  And I wondered if she’d expected anything else.

  * * *

  Elbows propped on the table, I had my face buried in my hands, thinking this was a bad fucking idea, too. But since I didn’t have any good ones, at least I could get tanked while doing it.

  Second Mirena had seen me, she’d hauled my stumbling ass over to a secluded, darkened booth at the very back of Monty’s where I was hidden in the hazy shadows.

  Great place to get lost in a rage. In hatred and disgust.

  What the fuck had I thought going over there? That I’d apologize really quick, sweep her into my arms, and we’d live out our lives?

  A happily ever after?

  Sunshine and fucking rainbows?

  Sunshine, my ass, and my ever after was never destined to be the happy kind.

  I should have known. That’s what I got for hoping for a change. For something more when I’d always known I couldn’t have it.

  I groaned, then jolted when I felt the movement across the booth from me. Warily, I opened my eyes, not in the mood for any bullshit.

  Jace and Ian slid into the opposite side, worry written all over their expressions.

  Annoyed, I frowned, taking another sloppy swig of my whiskey. “What the hell are you two doing here?”

  Might have been slurring.

  Who knew.

  Tapping his fingertips on the table, Jace angled his head. “Mirena called my number on one of my business cards. Said Ian and I needed to get down here. Something about our brother getting ready to have a meltdown. I’m pretty sure she was just worried you were going to tear apart the place.”

  Asshole tried to slide in a joke. Would have smiled, too, if his comment didn’t have me wanting to rip off his face.

  Ian itched in this seat. “Mack, man . . . what’s going on? You look like shit.” He glanced at the tumbler clutched in my hand, brow twisting in surprise. “And are you drinking whiskey? Shit. It really is bad.”

  Humorless laughter came rolling out. “Oh, it’s bad, all right.”

  “What’s going on?” he pressed.

  “This have something to do with Izzy?” Jace asked, leaning forward. No doubt, he was probably shouting over the band playing on the stage, but his words were getting lost in the din, people shouting and the crowd noisy.

  I rested the side of my head on my palm, and it only spun faster, my stomach sick.

  So sick.

  “Izzy’s a mom,” I somehow managed.

  Jace shifted in discomfort. “Mack—”

  I shook my head to cut him off. “Two kids. Oldest one is mine.”

  Oldest one is mine.

  I gasped out a choked sound. Couldn’t breathe. Might’ve been dyin’.

  “Shit, Mack, dude . . . what the fuck? Are you sure?” Ian stumbled around the question, and Jace was pushing out a strained breath, running his hand through
his hair.

  “Like looking in a goddamned mirror.” My voice was a rasp, that kid’s face etched in my mind like it’d been written there all along.

  Fuck.

  I took another swig of my whiskey and forced the acid down. It burned just as bad as when I forced out the words, “Has a disability, too. Cerebral palsy, maybe. Something like that. His legs are all . . . fucked up.”

  Was I able to say that and not be considered a dick? Because they were. And I wasn’t putting the kid down. Problem was, it was taking every ounce of restraint I had to remain sitting the hell down and not to go rushing back over there, sweeping in to pick him up.

  Hold him.

  Protect him.

  Right there to make sure no one ever messed with him.

  His smile hit me, filling up my mind, the kid so . . . happy.

  A fireball that had come from out of nowhere, crashing into my atmosphere, but not quite making it into my world.

  It’s your fault.

  It’s your fault.

  Pain splintered through my chest, and a shudder of revulsion slipped beneath my flesh. I curled my hand around the glass, so hard I was lucky I didn’t crush it. But maybe that’s what I was hoping for.

  A distraction from the unbearable pain scrambling all the rationale I kept inside. Anything would feel better than this.

  “Fuck, Mack, I’m sorry,” Jace said, and there was just something about his voice that had me looking up to study his face, this feeling taking me over.

  It only sent a fresh round of anger surging through my veins.

  This was Jace. Not my blood, but my brother. The guy who I’d trust with my life. Hell, with the shit the two of us had gotten into a few years back, it wasn’t even a theoretical notion. It’d been our reality.

  And there it was—guilt gripping his expression.

  My head cocked to the side in disbelief. “You knew?” My voice was ragged and sharp, my existence no longer making sense.

  My attention flew to Ian, and he was already putting up his hands in surrender, head shaking fiercely. “Don’t even say it, Mack. You think I wouldn’t tell you something like this?”

  “Yeah, well your big brother didn’t seem to find it fit to do me the same favor.”