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

by Jackson, A. L.

  In a way that made him want to shout at her to get down.

  “You missed it,” she said, like he didn’t know.

  He scowled, not likin’ it one bit that she’d seen it. “What are you doin’ followin’ me? Thought I told you not to come down around here?”

  It wasn’t safe.

  There were snakes and spiders . . . and . . . and his dad.

  Something ugly crawled under his skin. He had to stop himself from climbing that tree and hauling her down himself.

  But there she was, perched in her nest.

  She laughed, shifting around to sit on the branch. “Who said you get to tell me what to do?”

  “Well, your pa sure isn’t gonna like it if he knew you were up in that tree.”

  He was always yellin’ at her that she was gonna break her neck. Mack promised himself he wasn’t ever gonna let that happen. But he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to stop it if she never listened.

  She was always going on, doing her own thing, singing and laughing and playing.

  Free.

  Following him everywhere. He couldn’t ditch her, no matter how hard he tried. She was a pest, a tag-along who wouldn’t leave him be and made him feel strange in a way he wasn’t sure that he liked.

  Her eyes went wide from her roost. “You wouldn’t go and tell him?”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “And why shouldn’t I?”

  She started to scramble down, faster than she should, her foot going for a branch that was too thin.

  She stepped on it, and Mack’s heart lurched. He raced to get under her right as it snapped.

  She screamed.

  He stretched out his arms, trying to stop her fall, and her body hit his with a smack. It was nothing but a blur of her wild, wild hair, her flailing arms and thrashing legs.

  He held her tight against himself as the impact sent him tumbling back onto the meadow floor.

  Arms wrapped around her as fiercely as he could.

  Protecting her.

  Ignoring the pain when his head struck the ground.

  Ignoring the way his chest felt funny when she scrambled around, her hands planted on either side of his head as she stared down at him. “You saved me again.”

  “Told you I would.”

  She smiled. Smiled this smile that was brighter than the sun that cast her head in a halo. “That’s because you’re my best friend.”

  He frowned. “You can’t be my best friend.”

  She frowned right back, still pinning him. “Why’s that?”

  “Because I’m a boy and you’re a girl.”

  “So?”

  He hurried to think of a better reason.

  “Because I’m a dragon and you’re a bird. I might eat you.”

  She laughed, her face twisting up in joy.

  He felt it, too.

  Joy.

  He couldn’t help but smile back at her.

  “Doesn’t matter if you’re a dragon. You’re still my best friend. We can fly away together.”

  “But what if I’m mean?”

  She sat up, pushing off him. He sat up, too.

  “You’re not mean.”

  “Mack!”

  They both cringed when his daddy’s voice cracked through the heavens. Coming from the direction of his house.

  His house that was so much different than Izzy Lane’s.

  Hers was like a castle.

  His mama called theirs a shack.

  But it hadn’t felt so small until his daddy had gotten back, out of prison for doin’ something bad, but his mama wouldn’t never tell him what it was. The only thing he knew was now everything felt different. Wrong and ugly and black.

  “Mack!” his father shouted again, and fear slithered down Mack’s spine.

  Izzy bit down on her bottom lip and grabbed his hand. He realized it was shaking. That his whole body was shaking.

  She weaved her fingers through his, and she whispered, “Don’t worry, my dragon. I’ll save you, too.”

  Twelve

  Mack

  Harsh rays of light impaled my face. I squeezed my eyes against them, desperate to cling to sleep.

  Oblivion.

  That’s right where I wanted to stay.

  Reality danced at the periphery of my mind. A haze of blurred and distorted memories taunting me from the sidelines.

  Getting ready to jump into the ring of chaos at the center of my brain.

  Lying on my chest, I pressed my face into my pillow, trying not to groan out loud at the pain that splintered through my body.

  Head to fucking toe.

  What the hell happened last night?

  Felt like I’d been put through a meat grinder.

  Skin raw. Body stiff and brutally sore.

  But none of that came close to the torture I could feel eating at the deepest depths of me.

  No chance I could keep it at bay.

  Nothing I could do to stop that face from slamming into my consciousness.

  A wrecking ball.

  Demolishing the foundation I’d built.

  That kid. That kid.

  My reason. The sacrifice I’d had to make.

  No longer did any of it make sense.

  Groaning low, I rolled onto my side. I had to drag myself out of this bed and face the boatload of bullshit I’d gotten myself into last night.

  Was gonna be lucky if I didn’t find my ass chained to a desk job for the next six months.

  Then I froze.

  Awareness gripped me everywhere. A million tiny needles prickling across my skin.

  Pained pleasure.

  I pushed onto my hands and tried not to fucking toss what was left in my stomach at the punch of agony coming from my mangled body.

  I ignored it, instead swinging my gaze to the side, breath fucking hitching in my throat as everything came rushing back in vivid colors and dramatic scenes.

  She’d come to me.

  Had been waiting for me.

  Had stayed.

  My gaze fixed on the oversized lounge chair that was usually under the window that had been pulled up close to my bed.

  Girl curled up on it. Fast asleep.

  Locks of that hair a shiny river cascading around her shoulders, a mess of blondes and browns that glinted in the light and had me wishing I could reach out and touch it.

  Fist my hands in it.

  Use it to hold her close.

  Her tiny body—way too thin, still too goddam perfect—was contorted where she’d clearly been trying to find a comfortable spot.

  A throw that barely covered half of her was twisted around her torso.

  So pretty that looking at her hurt like a bitch, too.

  Regret hurtled at me.

  I’d felt it before, but never quite like this.

  Never where I’d thought that maybe . . . maybe I should have made a different decision. Always thinking I’d been doing her the best that I could do her.

  Ruining her in a way that would set her free.

  Because I’d always known I couldn’t keep her.

  My dick didn’t get the memo, though, fucker hard as steel where it was pressed to my bed. I pushed up to sitting, readjusting myself, trying not to moan.

  Pain and need.

  Pain and need.

  Story of my fucking life.

  I started to stand so I could slip into the bathroom when she stirred.

  Those hazel eyes blinked open, intensity building as she came to the realization that she was right there.

  With me.

  Probably the last place that she wanted to be.

  She scrambled to sit up, discomfort and uncertainty coming off her in waves. Slamming me. Ricocheting back.

  Two of us lost to that power that cinched down tight.

  The connection that had only been ours.

  I scratched at the back of my neck, cleared my throat, barely peeked over at her, afraid that I might scare her away. “Hey.”

  She heaved
out a sigh and gathered the throw against her chest, clutching it like protection. She was still wearing the same pants that had made me want to come in mine from yesterday, her blouse wrinkled, her tiny feet bare.

  Her eyes were sleepy and her lips were pouty, shyness creeping across her pale skin.

  Sexy as fuck.

  “Hey,” she whispered back. “How are you feelin’?”

  A rough chuckle left me. “Like shit.”

  “I’m thinkin’ after what happened, we should be looking to the bright side and being thankful that at least you’re here to feel that way.”

  There was something in it, something sweet and serious. Something tender that tightened my chest and made my heart beat harder. This boom, boom, boom that was taking to the air in the room.

  I dropped my attention to the floor. “My job’s dangerous, Izzy.”

  “I know,” she murmured, edging forward, “but it seems to me you went looking for trouble last night.”

  Resting my forearms on my thighs, I looked over at her. Full of regret. Not having a fucking clue what to say except, “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry, too.” Those hazel eyes were wide and sincere.

  I struggled to swallow around the rock lodged in my throat. “I have a son.”

  It wasn’t so much of a question. Just a clarification. Just needing her to look at me and tell me what the fuck had happened. How I didn’t know.

  “Yes.”

  I forced myself to keep my gaze steady on her. “What’s his name?”

  “Benjamin.” She squeezed her eyes closed when she said it while her confession nearly sent me toppling back.

  My heart clutched, stalling out, grinding to a standstill. My head started to nod, pain leaking out.

  Benjamin was my middle name.

  “You named him after me.”

  “You’re his father.” She said it like it made sense. Like my entire world hadn’t been tossed upside down.

  I sucked in a staggered breath.

  Izzy inhaled deeply, sitting forward, and then started to rush, “I know this is so much for you to take in, and you shouldn’t have found out the way that you did. I came here last night . . . to apologize for that. It was wrong. Wrong that I invited you over for a family dinner like you could just slide right into the table like you’d been there all along. I’m sorry that I didn’t find a way to tell you sooner.”

  “Why didn’t you?” I asked, that hollowed out space inside of me howling like a bitch.

  Unease had her shifting in the chair. “I tried. You know that I tried.”

  My mind flashed to the calls I’d ignored. Close to a hundred of them. All coming in within the first six months after she’d left. Then . . . I’d received one . . . a couple months after she’d stopped calling.

  My spirit sank. Was pretty sure straight to the pits of hell.

  “You called me the night he was born?”

  Silence bounded around the room. The pain radiating from her flesh vivid. Like fresh blood gushing from a cut to her soul that had never stopped bleeding.

  “I . . . I needed you that day.” Her face pinched in agony. “He almost died. His umbilical cord had been wrapped around his neck. I waited too long because I was scared to be alone and wanted to pretend I wasn’t in the position that I was. I hadn’t told my mama or my daddy . . . I’d just . . . left. Told them I needed a fresh start. That I couldn’t stay in Broadshire Rim after what you’d done to me.”

  Those lips trembled in agony. “I didn’t go stumbling into the ER until I was holding my belly, screaming because he was almost there.”

  Torment spun around us. Drawing us together. Pushing us apart. “All I remember was them getting me into a room and shouting at me to push, then the doctor shouting at me not to, but I couldn’t stop. He wasn’t breathing when he was born. He was . . . blue.”

  Her face twisted in horror, like she was right back there, reliving the moment, the words vibrating with emotion. “Completely blue. Not moving. Not crying. They finally got him breathing and rushed him to the newborn ICU. It was the middle of the night . . . I was . . . terrified. Absolutely terrified. And the only thing I wanted was to hear your voice. For you to tell me you’d save me. Save us. The way you’d always done.”

  “Izzy.” It was a sob. A shout. I didn’t fucking know. Only thing I knew was I wanted to bang my head against a wall. Make it go away. Stop it. Turn back time.

  Sadness took to her features, and she was chewing at her quivering bottom lip, trying to keep herself from crying. “My mama and daddy came as soon as I called them. I wasn’t alone for long.”

  “Don’t make excuses for me.”

  Her shoulder lifted at one side, that tenderness that was this girl right there. “Oh, I’m not, Maxon. There’s a very big part of myself that has hated you all this time. Hated what you did to me.”

  “If I could—”

  She gave a harsh shake of her head. “I’m not here for you to make apologies or excuses, Maxon. I came back to Broadshire Rim because Benjamin was accepted into a study here in Charleston. A study that might be able to help him fully walk again. Have his independence. I came back for him. Not for us.”

  I gave a tight nod, my fingers clutched together, squeezing to keep myself from flying to my feet and putting a fist through the wall. “What’s wrong with him?”

  A lumbering sigh parted her lips. “He has cerebral palsy. No one knew until about nine months after he was born that he’d suffered a brain injury from the oxygen deficit at birth. He just . . . wasn’t progressing normally. Wasn’t crawling or playing with his toys the way an infant would at his age.”

  Indecision had her shifting, glancing at the floor before she finally looked back at me. “He’s an amazing child, Maxon. Amazing and smart and he works so hard that just watchin’ him breaks my heart. Makes it bust up with pride. I was warned he might not ever walk, might not ever talk, but after seven surgeries, he took his first step.”

  That was it.

  All I could take.

  I sprang to my feet, welcoming the searing pain that sheered through my body.

  A thousand knives slicing me into pieces.

  Aggression curling through me, I pressed both my fists to the wall, like it could absorb the brunt force of the hatred I felt right then.

  Arms shaking with restrained exertion.

  Teeth gritting.

  I flew back around, jagged breaths surging out before I was dropping to my knees at her feet.

  Shock rocked her back, and I grabbed her by the face. “I’m so sorry. I’m so fuckin’ sorry. And those words don’t mean a goddamn thing, but I am.”

  I knew I’d spewed a bunch of shit at her last night. That she didn’t believe a fucking word I said. But I was going to prove to her that she could.

  Tears blurred her eyes, that mesmerizing dance of browns and greens. “I should have come back sooner. Told you. But it was easier for me to stay away than to have to face you. I’m sorry for that.”

  “Don’t apologize to me, Izzy. I was mad . . . shocked yesterday . . . but you don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

  It was on me.

  All the blame.

  All the fault.

  Just like it’d always been.

  “I want to know him.”

  She blinked hard, and a slew of tears slipped down her gorgeous face. There was nothing I could do but gather them up, my thumb tracking up the path of the moisture.

  “I’m not sure you’re ready for that, Maxon. I . . . I can’t have you comin’ into his life and then deciding it’s too hard. I should have given you time to figure it out before. I realize that now. I just . . . got back here and saw you and got carried away.”

  I tightened my hold on her face. “I want to get carried away.”

  Fuck. I wanted to get carried away.

  Run ahead and behind and in between. Be there for them, every step of the way, racing a few extra million laps to make up for what I’d lacked.
>
  A bluster of dread and worry flickered at the back of my brain.

  Had anything really changed?

  But there was no chance in hell I was gonna turn my back on my kid.

  “He’s my priority. Not you. Not me. It’s my job to protect him.”

  “Let me protect him, too.”

  There was my answer—everything had changed.

  I wasn’t about to let my past railroad me any longer. Fear holding me hostage. Look what good that had done.

  A war played out on her face, those teeth going to town on her bottom lip.

  My guts twisted, wanting to dip in, kiss it away.

  She glanced to the far wall, contemplating, before she looked back at me. “You really want to get to know him?”

  “More than anything.”

  “Why don’t you come back over tonight for dinner? But I . . . I’m not ready for us to tell him who you are. You’re my old friend. Nothing more. Not until we both can be certain you can handle this.”

  Relief gusted through my soul.

  So heavy I sagged forward and pressed my face to her heart that thundered in her chest. I wanted to reach out and touch it, carry some of her weight.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  She leaned back, searching for space. For distance. I had to fucking pry myself from the lure of that sweet body. Wanted to pick her up and pull her onto my lap.

  Undress her fast and kiss her slow.

  Hold her and fuck her and love her and keep her.

  The way I should have done all those years ago.

  Discomfort wound its way back into the atmosphere, and she looked at the clock before she angled those eyes back on me. “I need to get home and get a shower. I start work this mornin’. Do you think you’ll be okay to take care of yourself?”

  “Yeah. I’m okay.”

  Fucking lie, but it didn’t have a thing to do with my busted to shit body.

  I pushed to my feet and stretched out my hand. She hesitated for a second before she accepted it.

  Every cell in my body tightened, the brush of her fire, the warmth of her hope.

  “Thank you, Izzy. For coming here last night. For telling me. For giving me this chance.”

  “Don’t mess it up.” Of course because it was Izzy Lane, there was no hardness to it. Just sincerity.