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

by Jackson, A. L.

  He wasn’t about to stand for either one.

  “Okay,” she agreed without question, and she scrambled to get out of the way.

  He slipped through, and he climbed on top of her desk before he slipped all the way in.

  The second he did, he dropped to his knees on the carpeted floor.

  No energy left.

  She slowly knelt down in front of him. She was wearing a nightgown that was pink, and her legs were bare, and Mack felt guilty that he kept thinking dirty things. Things her mama and her daddy definitely wouldn’t like.

  Things he was sure she wouldn’t like, either.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked again, the green of her hazel eyes glowing in the muted light.

  “I just needed to see you.”

  Something good. Something good.

  Relief.

  A frown tore through her expression, and she slowly reached up and ran those tender fingertips across his cheek.

  “Are you missin’ your mama?”

  Grief clutched his chest.

  His stomach.

  His mind.

  Knives and whips and chains.

  His body felt like it was on fire.

  Incinerating.

  Eaten alive.

  If this went on any longer, he was sure his heart was going to fail.

  He grasped her hand and pushed it closer to his face. “I want to die, too.”

  A tear slipped from her eye, and she leaned up higher on her knees, angling his direction. “Don’t say that. Please, don’t ever say that.”

  “Why not? What’s the use in livin’ when it always ends?”

  Her head shook emphatically. Desperately. “Because I’m here, and you belong here with me. We belong together. Always, Maxon. Always.”

  He slumped to the floor. So tired. So tired.

  Rolling onto his back, he stared at the darkness that danced on her ceiling.

  Tingles spread across his skin when she snuggled against him.

  She rested her head on his chest.

  He winced.

  He regretted it the second that he let his weakness show because she scrambled to sit up and jerked at his shirt.

  “Did he do it again?” she gasped in horror.

  Frantically, her little hands tried to expose him. To lift the fabric. To show off his vulnerabilities.

  He didn’t want her to know how weak that he was.

  He grabbed at her, trying to stop her frenzied search. “Please. Don’t.”

  His daddy had gone on one of his drunken rages, coming after Mack when he hadn’t gotten the wheels off a car he’d been stripping in the shed fast enough.

  Instantly, the tirade had gotten physical, the vicious words coming from his father’s mouth turning to the loss of Mack’s mama, the way they always did.

  The way she’d died in that fiery car crash.

  Blaming it on the Lanes for making her pack her things and run.

  It’d been Mack’s idea, though. His fault. He’d begged his mama for them just to go.

  To go somewhere else. Somewhere better. Somewhere where he could keep her safe.

  Even if it meant being away from Izzy for a while. He would have gone back. Found her.

  His mama had been on her way to get him at school. His backpack stuffed with his things had been hidden in the woods behind the schoolyard, ready to go.

  She’d never shown.

  Only a police officer had been there hours later when he’d finally gone back to his house, there to tell his daddy that his mama was gone.

  “I hate him, Maxon. I hate him, I hate him. I’m gonna tell my mama.”

  This time, he gripped Izzy’s wrists. Hard. “You can’t do that. You know the only thing it’s going to do is make him madder, and he’ll just hit me harder.”

  It wasn’t like anyone was gonna do anything about it, anyway. It didn’t matter how much people acted like they cared. In the end, they always turned a blind eye. A lame excuse enough to explain it all away.

  It’d been that way his entire life. Except for the Lanes. They were the only ones who’d really cared. They’d tried to get custody of him when his mama had passed. Funny how that judge had declared his daddy fit.

  Izzy slumped down, her voice going soft. “It’s not fair.”

  No.

  It wasn’t.

  Guilt beat a path through his body.

  Lying there, he had to wonder if he really was meant to be there with Izzy at all.

  Lately, sneaking through her window had started to feel wrong.

  She was so much better than him. So much better than the thoughts that kept coming on stronger every time he was around her.

  She was going to have a better life than the one that was set out in front of him.

  Taking over his daddy’s business.

  He almost rolled his eyes.

  Like his life was normal. Like his daddy might brag to the other parents that his son would be the next successor in line.

  How proud he’d be.

  No.

  Mack didn’t belong there beside her.

  The princess and the pauper.

  But right then, he didn’t care, and he snuggled her closer, let his fingers flutter through her silky hair, and begged his body to stop the way it wanted to react.

  Izzy wasn’t like anyone else. Not one of those girls who let him touch them and touched him, too.

  She was better than him.

  He needed to remember that before he got lost and forgot who he was.

  Who he was always gonna be.

  “You’re my best friend, Maxon,” she whispered.

  He leaned over and kissed her temple, inhaling her scent.

  Wild jasmine and the sun.

  She sighed. Touched his chest.

  “Little Bird,” he whispered. “Let’s fly away.”

  “Okay, my dragon, just tell me where you want to go.”

  Twenty-Two

  Mack

  “You did it, Big Ben.” Barely managed to get the words out as I knelt in front of my son who had just wrapped up his appointment.

  “Did you seeeee me?” he asked hopefully, smiling his crooked smile, and my heart that was already wrung out squeezed.

  Squeezed so tight that it wrenched out this soggy feeling that I couldn’t fully process. This feeling that left me gutted and overjoyed.

  Aching and full.

  Like I was on the cusp of something bigger than I ever could have imagined and the weight of it was already too much.

  “Yeah, buddy, I was watching every second. You did amazing. Just like I knew you would. Dillon and I were cheering for you the whole time.”

  His grin widened, and the kid blushed, his bony shoulders going up to his ears. Like he was shy that I was giving him praise and hungry for the attention at the same time.

  There went my heart again.

  This bam, bam, bam that was making my head spin.

  “You did so good, Ben-Ben! You’re going to be so strong. Stronger than any of us! I bet you aren’t even gonna need those crutches.” Dillon leaned on me, his arm around my neck where I knelt down, kid glued to my side.

  I was pretty sure that was right where he’d always belonged.

  “Watch out Dilllon, I’ll be fassster than you.” Teasing pride billowed from my boy.

  Dillon’s eyes bugged out with the suggestion. “Well, maybe the same fast. I don’t think you should be too fast. How about that?”

  It was the first time all hour I almost had the urge to laugh. This sibling rivalry that was all too sweet.

  Relief coming on after the battering storm.

  Izzy had warned that Benjamin’s session was going to be grueling.

  I wasn’t close to being prepared for what that really meant.

  For an hour, I’d had to sit and watch my son cry tears of pain and frustration.

  Kid had been pushed to the limits.

  Pushed to the extreme.

  The whole thing had been abo
ut recording his baseline so they could set goals and parameters for the direction they were going to take his treatment. See where his strengths and his weaknesses were. Where the improvements could be found and where the focus needed to be.

  I got it.

  Understood it.

  At least my brain did.

  Thing was, my spirit had so not been on board with any of that shit.

  Whole time, I’d sat there with my knee bouncing a million miles a minute.

  Soul raging.

  Banging at its confines.

  Had to stop myself about fifteen different times from jumping out of my seat and demanding that they stop.

  Never expected my heart to ache this way. In a crazy way that didn’t quite make sense.

  No, it didn’t come close to coming from personal experience, but I thought it was safe to assume most parents wanted to protect their children. Shield them from pain.

  Shelter them from suffering.

  But this? It had been fucking brutal. Every second he’d been through slowly killing me.

  What only confused it was the massive amount of pride that had soared in me every damn time he’d cheer in victory. When the therapist would shout encouragement that he was doing great.

  Talk about not knowing how to stand under the upheaval. I had all but dropped to my knees when the therapist had given him a high-five and told him he was finished.

  “We have about an hour before we need to meet your mom. I think a celebration is in order,” I said, glancing between the boys. “What do you think?”

  “I love celebrations!” Dillon was all too quick to agree. “What kind of celebration are we going to have? A trip to Disneyworld?”

  A chuckle left me as I looped an arm around the kid’s waist. “I was thinking something more along the lines of ice cream. Getting a little ahead of yourself, aren’t you, Lil’ Dill?”

  “Mom says I’m always getting ahead of myself, but I run really fast, just like Ben-Ben is gonna. And I just really wanna go, and we’ve never been, and it looks so super cool. Please, can we go? I got a piggy bank, and it’s almost full. I can give you some dollars.”

  Laughter rolled out, and I ruffled his hair. “Maybe another time, Lil’ Dill. Pretty sure your mom wouldn’t be too happy about that idea right now. Besides, we only have an hour. Don’t think we can quite squeeze that in.”

  “Ah, man, why’s she always gotta be a funsucker?”

  Could feel the force of Benjamin’s smile. “Because we’re tttroublemakers. She’s gotttt to keep us in llline.”

  “Troublemakers? You two? I don’t believe it.”

  “Believe it, Mr. Mack,” Dillon claimed. “I mean, not bad guy troublemakers. Wait, is that the same thing? Oh man, I hope not. I don’t want to get arrested.”

  “So far, I think you’re fine. Just don’t push it,” I teased, and then I pushed to standing, taking Dillon’s hand and winding an arm around Benjamin’s shoulders to lead them out.

  We stepped out into the late afternoon, three of us together, walking along like we were a family.

  Family.

  I gulped around the thought of it. The agony of it.

  Something I’d never really had. Something I’d witnessed with Izzy and her parents, so close, but always out of reach.

  I got them into the truck that I’d rented while mine was being repaired, and ten minutes later we were standing at the ice cream counter with a slew of flavors beckoning from behind the curved glass.

  “Pick your poison,” I said.

  “Poison? That sounds like a bad idea. Maybe you’re really the troublemaker.” This from Dillon, except he was grinning up at me with his hand still clinging mine.

  Kid razzing me.

  My chest tightened, same as my hand did on his. “You have no idea, Lil’ Dill.”

  No idea at all.

  Wished I could erase it. The bullshit I’d done. The things I’d kept hidden. What still haunted me today.

  “Do they have bluuuuberry?” Benjamin tumbled through the question, hobbling on his crutches to the glass, peering down.

  I couldn’t do anything but reach out and feather my fingers through his hair that was the same color as mine had been at that age, heart beating overtime at the contact. “Might not be as good as your grandma’s pie, but it looks like they have it.”

  “I’ll take bubblegum,” Dillon exclaimed. “Can I have a cone with the chocolate and the sprinkles on it, too?”

  Izzy was probably gonna kill me for sugaring them up before I took them to meet her, but I was with Mrs. Lane—if I got the chance to spoil them, you could bet your bottom I was going to do it.

  “Sure can. How about you, Big Ben? You want one, too?”

  “Cannn I have two scoops?”

  I looked at the teenaged girl and gave her our order, paid, and carried our ice cream over to an open table.

  They immediately went to town, digging in. I took a bite of my plain vanilla, looking at my son who was lapping at his cone like it was the fountain of life, watching me at the same time, his little brother babbling on, stitching his little spirit to me just as quickly as his brother was.

  Impossible but right.

  I fought the fear that wanted to climb into the atmosphere, instead smiled and nodded along as Dillon launched into a million questions about what it was like when I was growing up in the olden days.

  Apparently the 90s was way back when.

  “And my mom was your best friend?” Dillon asked.

  “She sure was.”

  He scrunched up his nose, wiping some of the ice cream smeared all over his face with the back of his hand. “But she’s a girl.” He said it like it was the weirdest thing.

  Funny how I’d once tried to give her the same excuse and she wasn’t having it.

  I gave him the same response as she’d given me.

  “So? She’s still my best friend.”

  “So, you’re friends again?” he pressed.

  “I hope so,” I answered, roughness making its way into the words.

  “Special friends?” His brow rose in speculation.

  “Yeah, special friends,” I admitted carefully.

  His brow managed to rise higher. “You mean, the kissin’ kind?”

  Shit. Nothing like a kid putting you on the spot.

  Rubbing the tension at the back of my neck, I wavered, glancing between the two of them.

  Benjamin was studying me with those keen, deep eyes.

  Uneasiness twisted through my being, not sure what to say or how Izzy might want me to answer. But the last thing I wanted was to mislead these kids on my intentions.

  I nodded slow. “Yeah. The kissing kind. If she wants me to be. Would that be okay with you two?”

  There I sat, asking my twelve-year-old son who didn’t know he was my kid and his little brother for permission to kiss their mom.

  Just awesome.

  “Eww,” Dillon cried, acting like he was gagging.

  Benjamin dropped his head in embarrassment, redness blooming on his cheeks.

  “What do you think about that, Big Ben?” I prodded.

  He lifted his head. “You want to beeee her boyfrrrriend?”

  “I do.”

  I wanted to be her everything.

  Didn’t say it out loud.

  Didn’t think anyone was ready for that.

  He stared over at me, that fierce, brave little man I was coming to know surging to the surface. “Did you know both our dads didn’t lovvvvve her enough? They lllleft her. She dddoesn’t think I hhheeear her, but ssssometimes she cries at night, and I know whhhhy. Because I maaake it that she has to be allllone.”

  Pain slammed me, as intense as the hurt and shame that contorted my son’s expression.

  A crushing, devastating blow.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  “Maybe they were just cowards. Not brave enough to stay,” I forced out, words choppy.

  “Are you a cowwward?”

  “I
don’t want to be. Not anymore.”

  It was a confession without divulgence.

  “My mmmom is ggggood,” he told me, and there was a warning woven in it.

  “And so pretty,” Dillon added, mouth covered in ice cream.

  “Your mom is amazing,” I told them, words rough. “She’s perfect to me. She’s always been. And I want her to know that.”

  “Okkkay then,” Benjamin said, his nod slow, like he was asking me to agree. Trusting me that I got it.

  “Deal! Are we on the same team, now? Mom said we gotta stick together. Be a team because we only got each other.”

  Heart in my throat, I nodded at Dillon.

  “Would be the best thing in the world for me if I got to be on your team.”

  If I got to love you.

  Protect you.

  Keep you.

  All those things scrambled around in my chest, calling out their claim.

  Overcome, I cleared the emotion from my throat, knowing I needed to change the subject and get the hell out of there before I admitted things Izzy didn’t want me to admit.

  I glanced at my phone. “We’d better get you two cleaned up. We need to be at your mom’s work in fifteen minutes.”

  Dillon shoved the rest of his ice cream cone into his mouth, barely able to chew around the mess, grin stretching wide around the pink smeared all over his face. He held his hands out to the sides.

  “All done.”

  I managed to laugh. “Think I’m going to have to dunk you in the sink.”

  He giggled the cutest sound.

  Everything clutched and sped.

  Fuck, I’d gotten in deep. So deep. Sinking in surrender.

  Slipping out from behind the hard booth, I helped Dillon jump down and reached out for Benjamin. He took my hand, and I helped him slide out, kneeling down in front of him so I could help him put on his forearm crutches.

  “There we go,” I whispered low, glancing up at him, time freezing for a second when I met the depth in his eyes.

  Did he know? Could he feel it?

  Sucking it down, I straightened and led them both to the restroom to wash their faces and hands. Then I led them back out to the truck where I helped both of them buckle into their booster seats, Benjamin’s a special one with about fifteen latches.

  Whole time I was clicking him into his seat, I could feel a thousand questions coming off of him.