Dicing the vegetables, tossing them in the heating oil, the scent of garlic and onion rising to the air.
His face intense yet at peace.
Shoulders rigid but demeanor welcoming.
I found myself standing, drawn, the way I’d always been, moving that way.
Energy washed, a lap across my bare feet, throat getting wobbly as I edged up to his side and leaned my hip up on the counter beside where he worked.
“Miss me?” He lifted a brow, half his attention on me and the other on the food he was prepping.
A light giggle escaped.
Talk about a shift in the mood. But I loved that about him. The lightness he could wear when the heaviness threatened to pull us under.
“Not even for a second,” I teased right back. “I just came over here to make sure you knew what you were doing. Wouldn’t want your cooking to make my kids sick or anything.”
Something coy played all over that sexy mouth, dimple denting at the side. I had the stupid, reckless urge to reach out and taste it.
There was that fork. Coming up faster.
“Huh. I would have sworn your heart just started beating harder. You sure it’s not something else that has you coming this way?”
“Nervous about the food,” I retorted, though my words were getting low and wispy. I blinked through the haze of need that was suddenly clouding the air.
I cleared my throat. “Who knew you could cook. That smells delicious.”
“All kinds of things you don’t know about me.” He winked.
Okay, so that was kind of what I was worried about. The unknowns. Who he’d become. Was he different than this beautiful surface that he was showin’ me?
He tossed in some strips of chicken. “I hope you like stir fry. Easy and fast.”
“Anything you make would be just fine.”
“How long have the two of us been settling for just fine?”
The shift in his tone came out faster than I was prepared for. This easy, cocky boy flipping a one-eighty.
Blue eyes flashed.
Savage possession.
I reared back in surprise.
And there was nothing I could do but whisper the admission into the dense air.
Unable to stop it.
Not sure I wanted to keep the reality of it from him. It needed to be said. “I’ve never been just fine, Maxon. Though I’m sure you were. Plenty of company to keep you warm at night.”
I didn’t mean for the bitterness to come through. But it was there.
Before I could make sense of it, he had me by the upper arms, and he spun me around, backing me into the counter and out of view of the boys. He towered over me, so powerful, muscles of those arms twitching with restraint.
Heat instantly exploded in the middle of us.
Flames raking at my skin.
I struggled to find a breath beneath the impact of him, but the only thing I managed to do was gulp down his presence, overflowing my lungs with the promise of sex and dominion.
“You think I was ever fine for a second without you? That my heart ever beat right? That my spirit was ever at peace?” He edged even closer. “Not for a second, Little Bird. Can’t fly without you by my side.”
My head shook slowly. “You’re wrong. You could always fly. Soar higher than anyone.”
My moon in the darkest sky.
“You just forgot to remember you had wings. That you had the power. I believed in you. Believed in us. You gave me away, Maxon. Why? For what?” I almost begged, moisture clouding my eyes with the way he was looking at me, with the scars that he’d left ripped open wide.
A patter of footsteps came scurrying our way.
I froze, not sure what to do, realizing I was pinned.
Dillon groaned. “Oh, man, is this what it’s gonna be like all the time now? You two kissin’ away? Sheesh.”
He was all childlike outrage.
Maxon’s eyes fired, still pinned on me for a beat, wrought with something so severe my knees nearly buckled beneath the force of it. Then he fixed on a bright smile, turned around, and swept Dillon off his feet.
And then he was . . . oh God . . . he was peppering a million kisses all over Dillon’s sweet, chubby face, making my son shriek with laughter.
“What? You don’t like kisses?”
“Kisses are gross!”
“You better get used to them.”
“Why, ’cause you’re a part of the team now?” Dillon asked, still howling between the kisses Maxon was smacking all over his face, trying to deflect the assault and desperate for more of it at the same time.
Maxon shifted his gaze back to me, slowing as he tucked my 5-year-old to his side. He held him tight, as if he wasn’t ever gonna let go.
“Yeah, Lil’ Dill. Because I’m a part of the team now. No getting rid of me.”
* * *
“In you go,” I told Dillon who crawled into the backseat. “Buckle up.”
“Do we have to go?”
“We do, it’s late.”
“But we don’t even got school yet, not for two whole weeks,” he argued, his eyes begging like a puppy dog’s as he stared at Maxon who was lingering around by my back.
“You might not have school, but I have work.”
“Come on, Mr. Mack, tell her it’s early. We could play Mario for like . . . fifteen more minutes. That’s it. I promise.”
I could feel amusement riding off of Maxon, his hands going up in surrender. “If your mom says it’s time to go, it’s time to go.”
“Ah, man, always a funsucker.”
“Always a troublemaker,” I shot back, playfulness pulling at the corner of my mouth as I bantered with my son who always had something to say.
The quiet one was just smiling soft, content and happy after the amazing night we’d spent inside the walls of Maxon’s house.
Dinner so easy.
Light.
Laughter and conversation coming from the four of us. As if we’d been simply catching up at the end of a day that was just like any other. Funny, when it felt completely monumental.
As if we’d just shared our first real meal as a family.
That in itself was terrifying.
I needed to get out of there before my body settled right in.
Straightening, I backed out.
Of course, because I was fumbling and nervous, I had to go and bump right into Maxon.
His big hands went to my waist to steady me, and he pushed his nose into my hair at the back of my neck, and oh God, a shiver was flashing across my skin.
“Whoa, there,” he murmured, rough voice sending another rash of chills skatin’ free.
I managed a feeble smile as I stepped out of the way, and Maxon dipped down so he could lean inside the backdoor of the car. He reached across and ran his fingers through Dillon’s hair. “See you soon, Lil’ Dill.”
“When?”
“As soon as I can.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Maxon’s attention swept to the seat closest to him, and Benjamin was just sitting there, smile so bright.
“Pppromise?” he mimicked, his blue eyes wise and aware.
Maxon dipped down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I promise.”
He seemed reluctant to stand up, but he finally did, stepping back and shutting the door.
The light dimmed within, leaving us in the shadowy darkness out in front of his house, the light from the porch barely making it this distance.
I swallowed around a lump the size of a grapefruit that had taken up residence in my throat. A chaotic disorder of what I wanted and what I knew would be so reckless to give in to.
“Thank you so much for dinner,” I managed. “It was wonderful. The boys had so much fun. I’m sure my mama and daddy were happy for the break from the noise, too.”
There I went, assigning this a different meaning.
But it felt so much safer than taking on the meaning that was roilin
g through Maxon’s expression.
“I’ll see you later,” I said, floundering around for the doorlatch.
Needing an escape.
But there was no escaping the impact of his words that hit me from behind. “Could you see it, Izzy? Us doing this? Every day?”
I whirled back around, and my back hit the door. I was sure it was the only thing that was keeping me standing.
And there it was.
That fork in the road.
A decision to be made.
He was so beautiful, staring back at me, his shoulders heaving with the exertion I could see him using to keep himself standing there.
From not surging forward.
Taking me the way we both knew I wanted to be taken.
I blinked at him, moisture hazing my sight, my heart lumbering with the savage force of the memories that broke free.
The question that remained.
My own fears this man had etched on me.
Scars that screamed.
“I don’t know, Maxon. I don’t know what to make of any of this. You’re movin’ so fast, and I’m not even sure what you want from me.”
He surged forward, body eclipsing me in shadow. “I want you. Want you more than anything I’ve ever wanted before. I want to tell Benjamin I’m his father. Ask Dillon if I can be his, too. Want a family.”
His throat bobbed with turmoil. “A family, Izzy Baby. Never had one before. And the only person I have wanted that with is you.”
It was crazy how he was speaking the exact words I’d spent years dreaming of hearing.
Verbatim.
The man a match to my soul.
But that’s what it’d been—a dream.
And my soul had spent thirteen years achin’. Achin’ with torment. Misery meted at his hand.
I struggled for a breath. Struggled to find reason. To make sense of the chaos of what I was feeling.
Words started pouring free.
“I loved you, Maxon. I loved you with every part of me. With every breath. With every heartbeat. I did since I was a little girl. And you shattered that in a way I don’t know can ever be repaired.”
I clutched my hands over my chest, voice cracking with the confession. “I’m terrified to believe in what you’d refused to believe in. Terrified of feeling all those things again. I don’t think you understand all that I’ve been through. What it feels like to be alone. Scared. But I did it . . . I did it because I had to. For my boys.”
I glanced at them and cringed when I found their attention locked on the shadow of us.
I prayed they couldn’t hear what I was saying, but I turned back to Maxon, anyway, opened up, spilling my guts all over the ground.
“I don’t know if I can afford to put myself in that position again. Not when their hearts are on the line, too. Not when I’m not sure that you fully understand what love is. And loving you when you don’t love me back? That’s the worst place I’ve ever been, and I can’t condemn myself to that kind of hell again.”
He looked like I’d struck him.
His body bowed.
Stricken.
I took the opportunity to jump into my car, fingers fumbling as I turned over the ignition, desperate to get away.
A sharp turn left.
Veering off this collision course.
Fleeing the flames.
Knowing I had no chance of outrunning them anyway.
Twenty-Four
Mack
Seventeen Years Old
Music thumped against the walls, and the entire house vibrated with a dark, greedy energy.
Voices were elevated, pitched to be heard above the din, a throbbing crowd that chased ecstasy.
Tossing back shots and lining their noses with whatever they’d managed to score.
Like they could stand a chance of flying away from this depressing reality.
The loudest of the crowd was by the sink in the kitchen, a ring of morons chanting, “Chug, chug, chug,” as they did keg stands, cheering in pride like they’d brought home a gold medal.
Sitting at the round table at the back, Mack kept his voice low, his focus turned toward Ian who sat sideways on his chair facing him, angling his ear Mack’s direction.
“A thousand bucks, man. Your only job is to drive those parts across state lines and not get pulled over.”
Mack tried to ignore the bitch who straddled him, wanting to get up close and personal with his dick, Clarissa thinking this was her damn business, too.
“Simple as that,” he added.
Simple.
Hatred spun through his being.
Last thing he wanted to do was bring Ian into his mess, this scraggly kid who’d shown up in town about a year before. Even though Ian was a year younger, the two of them had become instant friends.
He guessed the broken-down always gravitated toward the sleaze and shade.
Thing was, Ian had come to him.
Desperate.
Desperate for money. For food. For a goddamn break.
Wanting an in on what was clearly going down in Mack’s backyard.
Ian nodded. “That’s it? I don’t have to do anything else?”
Clarissa laughed. The sound of it curled through him like a disease. “You sure he’s got the balls to do it?” she cooed her insult, pressing her tits against his chest.
He had the distinct urge to toss her from his lap.
He ignored her, instead, ignored the tussle of unease that moved through his stomach and focused on his best friend not getting his ass nailed for grand theft. “That’s it. Drive slow but not too slow. Fucking pay attention and make sure you aren’t drawing attention to yourself. Drop it at the address and get your ass back home.”
Anxious laughter rumbled from Ian. “Yeah, I can do that.”
“Good.”
Ian looked up at him. “Just . . . don’t tell my brother, man. Jace will have both of our asses if he catches wind of this. He’s been riding me and Joseph about keeping our noses clean.”
“Yeah, well Jace should be the last of your worries.” Mack hesitated. “You sure you’re up for this? You want out, just say it, and you’re out.”
“Aww, so sweet.” Clarissa toyed her finger in the collar of Mack’s tee.
God, he despised her.
Mack knew bringing Clarissa’s father into the gig was a mistake. Knew it the second his daddy showed up with the prick ambling behind him, bringing another into the fold.
Just one big happy fucking family.
But Mack did what he had to do.
What he had to do to survive.
Funny, how he’d fought his father forever and then slid right into the position like he’d always belonged.
Heaviness clanged through his chest. Shame and dishonor. But it’d been stupid to think he’d been purposed for anything else.
Like he was better.
Destined for great things.
What a fuckin’ joke.
“Nah, man. I’m in. Better than selling dope for my ma’s prick boyfriend,” Ian said, driving an agitated hand through his hair.
“Yeah,” Mack started to agree when his breath hitched.
It got locked somewhere between his lungs and his throat and the sun.
A prisoner to the shift in the air.
Nothing but a crack in the atmosphere that let a lightning bolt of energy come speeding in.
His attention jerked up, jumping over the faces packed in the sordid house, coming to the one that was breaking through the crowd.
Izzy.
What the fuck was she doing there?
She didn’t belong.
His heart started to thud, this thunder that pulsed and screamed with its demand.
“What time should I meet you?” Ian’s question was nothing but a blur in his mind when his eyes tangled with that hazel, unforgettable gaze.
Then Mack was fully losing his mind when he saw Sean say something to her, grab her by the hand, and try to get her to follow.
Mack knew firsthand the asshole was a dickbag.
Izzy seemed frozen, though, and her eyes widened with shock and rejection. That was right before her expression shifted to gutting pain when she focused in on the girl on his lap.
Mack’s spirit fisted.
He’d stopped going to Izzy about six months before.
It was the fucking hardest thing he’d ever done, but the sacrifice had been necessary.
Their worlds had grown farther and farther apart. Their differences becoming too apparent.
Guilt had begun to eat at him every time he’d steal through her window like a thief, feeling filthy when he’d gather her up and hold her close, his dick pushing at his jeans and begging for him to take her, even though he promised himself he would never stoop that low.
Every time she whispered encouragement, told him he was going to be something great, filled his ears with all her good and belief, it’d only underscored the fact that she didn’t recognize the shame written on him.
The things he’d done. The things he was bound to do.
She was so much better than him. She was the great one. The one going places.
His Little Bird with the biggest, brightest wings.
Then the day had come when he’d had to accept it fully—that their worlds could no longer mesh.
It’d been close to dawn when he’d slipped out of her bed, his heart clutching all over the place as he’d stared down at the girl who was fast asleep, that blonde strewn all over her pillow. He’d left with that picture of her emblazoned on his mind and the memory of her fingertips tracing shapes across his bare shoulders etched on him like a tattoo.
Five minutes later, he’d stumbled through his front door.
His daddy had been awake.
Didn’t matter that he’d denied it, his father knew where he’d been, spewing his old, misguided hatred at the Lanes through his drunken stupor.
Mack didn’t care. He’d turned his back and headed for his room so he could crash, until his father had said it.
“If she’s so good, maybe I should take her for a ride. Maybe her old mama, too.”
Rage had spiraled through the middle of him. Hatred bigger than it’d ever been.
But really, his father had only been pointing out who Mack really was. An example of their sick, depraved world.
Pieces of Us: A Confessions of the Heart Stand-Alone Novel Page 24
