Grief struck across his face. “I know that. I know. I deserve for him to hate me, but I will be there, even if he does, until he sees that he doesn’t have to. That he can trust me.”
He cupped my face, and I leaned into the warmth. “When do you want to talk to him?” I asked.
“Maybe I can take him to his appointment on Thursday? Afterward, I’ll take him to the park or for ice cream or wherever he wants to go.”
Heart shuddering, I peered up at him. “And what about Dillon?”
Determination steeled those strong features. “Wasn’t playing when I said I want us to be a family, Izzy. For the first time in my life, I have a family, right here. I don’t want to be separate from any of them. Not ever again.”
Emotion surged, so thick that it was pricking tears at the back of my eyes. “I want that. So much.”
He brushed his thumb over my lips. Softly. Reverently. Though there was hesitation behind it. “Last thing I want to imagine is you with another man, but I need to know about his father. Where he is. What happened with him.”
As if I wanted to imagine him with another woman. I cringed with even the thought, tucking it down, refusing the remnants of betrayal from clawing its way out.
It didn’t have a place in my life any longer.
I hiked an indifferent shoulder. “There’s not a whole lot to tell. His name was Jon. He left me when things with Benjamin got too rough. Dillon was two months old, and Benjamin had just had another surgery. It was a rough one. Benjamin was up all night crying with his pain, needing me to hold him, while I was trying to take care of a newborn at the same time. Jon told me he was sorry, but he couldn’t do it. He didn’t want to spend his life in doctor’s offices.”
Fury raced through Maxon’s being. Hatred so fierce I swore it darkened the sun.
“Did you love him?”
I blew out a strained sigh. “I did, Maxon. Differently than you, but I did. He was a friend that had grown into more. Then he let me down. He didn’t love us enough. And it breaks my heart to think that maybe I didn’t love him enough, either.”
There’d been a ghost that had always lived in the middle of us—in the perfect size of Maxon Chambers.
Standing in the way of me ever fully giving myself to Jon.
I was staring up at Maxon when I said it.
It was soft and tender.
But I thought maybe it came with an ultimatum.
His forehead dropped to mine. “You questioning whether I love you enough? There’s not enough time in eternity for me to use up the love I have for you.”
Twenty-Seven
Mack
I glanced over at my cell ringing on my desk to find Pete’s name lighting the screen. He was out hunting down monsters while my ass was stuck at a desk for four weeks.
Two down, two to go.
“What’s up?” I rocked forward and leaned my elbow on my desk, ignoring the commotion and clamor of conversations going on around me.
“Fingerprints are in,” Pete said, caution in his voice.
Figured he realized he was about to set me off.
“Yeah?” I pressed, preparing myself for the news I was about to receive while trying my best to ignore the agitation that stirred in that dark pit that writhed deep inside.
The place that reminded me whose side I was on but never let me forget where I’d come from.
His voice lowered like he wanted to keep me from the truth. “It was definitely Zachary Keeton. Seems he didn’t do a whole lot to hide it, either. Prints were all over your truck and on the brick.”
Aggression jumped into my bloodstream, seething and violent, and I ground my teeth to keep from coming out of my chair.
“Got any clue why this punk has it out for you?” he asked.
Unease rippled through my body. Something taunting at the edge of my mind but remaining out of reach. “Other than giving him that ticket? No.”
He sighed in frustration, worry weaving into the middle of it. “You think it’s because he’s found a cop to point his aggression and animosity at?”
I shrugged, but it wasn’t in acceptance. “Maybe.”
Gut told me it was more than that, though.
He hesitated, clearly not wanting to broach what it was he was getting ready to say. “Have you checked into your father?”
Hatred spun, and my jaw clenched. “Yeah. Fucker is still sitting behind bars. Where he belongs.”
Kept close tabs.
Always.
But the second Izzy had shown up in town, I’d doubled those efforts.
“Fuck, I hate this. Crime for nothing. I can’t handle this. I’m going to have to go into an early retirement before I have a heart attack at forty. Live on a deserted beach somewhere. Sipping piña coladas for the rest of my life.”
“I thought it was me with my ass in the hot seat, and you’re the one who’s trying to hightail it out of here?” I attempted to go light. Not wanting to give into what was pressing at me.
Fear and rage and darkness.
I wasn’t that guy. Not anymore.
Couldn’t give myself over to it.
Not with what I now stood to lose.
“Maybe I was making a suggestion. Two of us run away together.”
“Sorry, dude, but you’re not my type.”
He laughed. “Yeah, and how is that going with that sweet thing? Tell me you locked that down. Your ugly ass isn’t ever going to get another chance like that.”
I blew out a sigh, scrubbed a hand over my face. “I’m going to marry her, man.”
Silence echoed on the line, and then he muttered, “Really?” It was nothing but speculation.
Maybe he’d heard me spouting my mouth about it being selfish for a cop to settle down so many times that he didn’t believe what he was hearing.
“Told you she was my oldest friend. Also the mother of my son. She has another little boy, too.”
This time his silence was deafening.
“No shit?” he finally said.
“No shit.”
“Well, fuck. Was not expecting that. Seems we’re going to have to get us a bigger island.”
A rough chuckle rolled out before I was turning serious. “Have to nail this bastard, Pete. Can’t risk someone coming after me like that when I’ve got Izzy and her boys to worry about. Won’t take that chance.”
“Understand that completely. Believe me, there isn’t a soul in the precinct who isn’t watching, waiting to take that fucker down after what he did to you.”
“Yet, he’s managed to remain at large for two weeks.”
“We’ll nab him. We will.”
“All right. Keep me posted.”
“Will do, man. Just . . . hang tight. Watch your back. We’ll be looking out for you.”
I ended the call to find a text had come through.
Hatred and disgust curled my guts.
Clarissa: Two weeks. Aren’t you missing me? Think it’s time you come visit. I’m feeling . . . neglected.
Rage tightened every muscle in my body, the chains of her manipulation yanking at my insides. Twisting me apart. Knew that whole neglected bit meant she wanted me to bring her money, too. I no longer knew if it was her blackmailing me or I was bribing her to keep it quiet.
Me: Told you I was finished with you toying with me. It’s over, Clarissa. Sink your claws into someone else.
Clarissa: Aww. I’m sorry to hear that. I’d hate for one of Charleston’s finest to be found to be nothing but a criminal. Even worse that his cute little girlfriend was involved.
A frenzy built in my body. A storm that raged in my soul.
She knew Izzy was here.
Shit.
She knew it.
Dread pulsed, and I didn’t know how the screen of my phone didn’t shatter when I fired off my response.
Me: Stay the fuck away from her, Clarissa. Away from me. I am warning you, you don’t want to mess with this. I will make sure you regret it.
I
tossed my phone to the desk. Hostility boiled in my blood, and my knee was bouncing, trying to find a direction to focus my aggression.
I looked at the clock.
I needed to pick Benjamin up in thirty. Needed to cool it. Get it under control before I did something that I would be regretting.
I grabbed my phone and called Pete back.
“Yo,” he answered.
“I’ve got to run, but do me a favor, will you?”
“Anything.”
“Get whatever you can on Clarissa Pelter. Bank records. Cell records. Anything you can.”
“Shit . . .” Could feel him stirring on the other end of the line. “You don’t think she’s involved?”
“Don’t know. But I am going to find out.”
“Big Ben, buddy,” I murmured softly, heart gripping as I glanced in the rearview mirror of my truck. Benjamin rode in the back.
He’d just finished his session.
This one . . . this one had been brutal. He’d worked so goddamn hard, but there had been no missing the agony that had been written all over him. The frustration and the discouragement, just like what dimmed his spirit now.
His attention cast out the window.
Child silent.
But it was a different kind than his typical quiet observation.
This was . . . sad.
Fucking sad.
And I didn’t have a goddamn clue how to fix it.
He shifted his attention to me, meeting my eye through the rear-view mirror. He didn’t answer. Just looked at me. Blue eyes glistening with unshed tears he was trying to hold back.
“What’s wrong, buddy?” Could barely force the words out around the torment crushing my ribs.
A tear got loose. He tried to hide it when he said, “Don’t worrrrry. It’s okkkkay.”
He seemed barely able to form the lie over the thickness in his voice. A lie I knew wasn’t done maliciously, not in any way, but to pretend like everything was okay.
Some days I knew it just couldn’t be.
I could feel my heart rioting against my ribs. “You can tell me anything. Did you know that? You can tell me anything.” My words deepened in emphasis, close to desperate. “Confide anything. If you’re hurting or scared, you can come to me. You don’t ever have to be ashamed.”
That blue gaze flashed hesitation before he was forcing out the response, “I dddon’t think I’m strrrong enough.”
Everything tightened. “Strong enough? You’re the strongest person I know.”
I was trying to get my voice to come out positive because fuck, it was the truth, but it was wobbling.
His crooked mouth hung open in the most heartbreaking sort of surrender. “It huuurts too bad.”
God.
I couldn’t handle this.
Couldn’t handle the desperate need to make this right and being completely powerless to do it. This kid's plight was one I couldn’t undo no matter how bad I wanted to.
“I’m so sorry, Benjamin. I’m so sorry that you have to go through this. I wish I could change it.” My words were a tumble of grief.
He just stared at me, like he was trying to make sense of why and what this meant. Trying to process the awareness that clawed between us, a fierce force drawing us together.
Making a decision, I took a right and headed in the opposite direction of Izzy’s place and back toward my house. We rode in silence, and my attention was snapping around the yard as I pulled into the drive, a swelling of hostile protectiveness rising up within me at the thought of me putting this kid in danger by bringing him here.
Benjamin shifted in his seat, edging up to get a better look, confusion in his expression.
“What are we ddddoing here?”
“Want to give you something,” I told him.
He didn’t respond, just sent me a look of trust.
That kind of gutted me, too.
Ensuring nothing was awry, I returned to the truck and unbuckled this kid who had gotten so deep under my skin that I hardly recognized myself anymore.
I pulled him into my arms.
Holding him because I got that was what he needed right then.
Support and unwavering encouragement.
And suddenly, I was getting all the warnings that Izzy had given. The fact that this wasn’t easy—not in the least—but it was the most important job I would ever have.
He exhaled a shaky sound and wrapped his arms around my neck.
Devotion pumped.
Intense.
Overpowering.
Blinding.
Could feel it streaking my veins and settling as a firm reality in my soul.
I carried him inside my house and carefully set him on the couch. “I’ll be right back. I want to show you something.”
He nodded, curiosity filling his expression, the kid all bony and angled, the sight of him hitting me so perfectly.
Emotion clawed my throat. Anxiety and hope going on a rampage. I rushed to my room. A couple seconds later, I reemerged at the end of the hall.
Benjamin remained on the couch. The glow of the evening light flooded in around him, and he cast me a timid smile. Unsure of what was going on.
And I was praying silently that I could explain this to him right, that I might be able to make him understand the position I’d been in when I’d made the worst decision of my life—praying harder that he wouldn’t hate me—as I slowly approached.
I was carrying the book with the dragon drawn in stencil on the spine.
The one that I’d found in my mother’s things. The one that had always felt like it meant something. Held a power beyond the pages of a book. Magic in the words. Life in the illustrations.
Carefully, I sank down on my knees in front of him. “I want to give you something.”
He angled his head, eyes scanning the crudely, gorgeously drawn cover. “Whhhat is it?”
Could barely swallow around the massive lump in my throat. “It’s a special book. It’s a special book that my mom made for me, and I found it at a time in my life when I felt like I couldn’t go on. When I felt like it was hopeless and everything in my world hurt too bad. When I didn’t want to go on any longer. When I wanted to give up.”
His brow pinched, and I edged up on my knees a bit and set the book on his lap. “Inside, it’s a story about a boy who felt the same way. Like he didn’t have the strength to become who he was always destined to be. But he found a friend in what he thought was supposed to be his enemy, and through that, he learned who he was. He found power in that. Even though it was hard and seemed impossible.”
I reached up and brushed my fingers through his hair, cupped the side of his face. “This boy reminds me of you, Benjamin. He’s as strong as stone and as fierce as a lion, yet, sometimes he gets scared. He doesn’t yet understand that he is meant for great things.”
My tone dropped close to desperation on the last.
Overcome. Past and present and the future toiling in the middle of me. Spinning through the space.
Regret and faith.
Is that what my mother had seen in me? What she’d hoped for? Her little boy who’d run around claiming he was a dragon. Powerful when he had no will? I fought the crushing thought that she would be ashamed with the direction I’d gone then. Devastated that she would never know who I was trying to become.
Loss curled through me in a way I hadn’t allowed it for so long. Memories of her had been shoved aside. Buried. Too much for me to bear or face or acknowledge.
Now they flooded.
Wave after wave of grief and sorrow.
“You tttthink I’m meant for ggggreat things?” Benjamin’s weary voice hitched in hope. Expanded with courage.
Affection tightened my chest, so overwhelming that I was finding it hard to find air. Knowing what I was coming up on. What I had to give him.
The coward in me wanted to deny what I’d done. And the rest of me? The part that would do anything for Izzy and her boys? He pressed on.
>
“I think you’re meant for very great things. I think you were sent to show this world what it’s like to really hope.”
Hope.
It struck like a monsoon. A bluster of power and violence.
Terrifying and beautiful.
“Ccccan I read it?” he asked in his sweet voice.
That lump throbbed. “How about you keep it?”
He blinked at me. “But yyyyour mom ggggave it to you.”
I ran my thumb over his cheek, a fucking rock in my spirit when I thought about confessing it.
But it was time.
Long since passed time.
I prodded him to look up at me when I murmured, “And now, I’m giving it to my son.”
Time stopped. The past and the future colliding.
He blinked more, those eyes moving over me like he was looking at me for the first time. Or maybe he was realizing why we’d shared that connection. Why it never had felt like we were standing in front of a stranger. Spirits recognizing the other.
Still, he asked, “Whhhhat dddo yyyou mean?” His words lurched more than normal, his tongue getting tied, agitated and confused and somehow laced with a thread that said he’d known it all along.
“I’m your father, Benjamin. Your dad. Your mom and I—”
Sadness moved through his face. “I know where bbbbabies come frrrom. I’m not sttttupid. Peoppple might think I am, but I’m smmmart.”
“I know you’re smart, Benjamin. So smart.”
He studied me, though for the first time it was done with distrust. “I look just liiikkke you.” He shoved his fists into his eyes like he was angry for not recognizing it immediately. “Youuu . . . youuu left us.”
I watched as the rest of the reality of it came speeding in. The confirmation more than he could handle. Tears leaked out from behind his fists.
Agony gripped my conscience. Devastating. Sickening.
What was I supposed to do?
I wavered for a second, trying to remain calm, reminding myself that he needed space.
Time.
Pieces of Us: A Confessions of the Heart Stand-Alone Novel Page 27
