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

by Jackson, A. L.

Hurt her.

  His fists flew faster and harder as he fought to get the upper hand on his father who was fighting back just as hard.

  With just as much hate.

  Fury rioted between them.

  Years of disgust and abhorrence.

  Mack could feel it all spilling out.

  Insanity taking over, an ugliness coming at him so fiercely that he couldn’t see.

  He wanted his father to die.

  Wanted to end him himself.

  Feet and fists flew, their bodies surging and grappling, grunts coming from their mouths as they struck each other.

  Blow after blow.

  Kick after kick.

  Mack could hear Izzy’s mama trying to get to her feet, the sheer terror that radiated from her soft, pure spirit as she struggled to get away from the demons that had been unleashed.

  His father nailed him on the chin. Mack would have seen black if it wasn’t for the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

  The intrinsic need to end this.

  “I’ll kill you,” Mack growled, throwing his father back and scrambling around to pin him to the ground.

  He pressed his forearm to his father’s throat. “I warned you I’d kill you.”

  His father spat in his face. “You little prick. You gonna fight for these rats rather than your own blood? You forget who you are?”

  An elbow rammed into Mack’s ribs, and he choked over the splitting pain. His father took the opportunity to break loose, tossing Mack onto his back and jumping to his feet, sweeping up the knife from the floor.

  Mack flew to standing, ignoring the pain splintering through him.

  It wasn’t like he hadn’t taken a beating before.

  This time—this time he was doing it for a reason that mattered.

  The only thing that mattered.

  Roaring, he rushed his father again.

  His father lashed out faster than Mack could process, the gleam of that knife flashing before pain ripped across Mack’s side.

  A strangled sound gurgled up his throat, and he staggered. He tried to ignore the searing blaze, and he battled to get to him.

  But he was weak. Too weak.

  He dropped to his knees, gripping his side.

  Blood covered his hands.

  He didn’t even care that his father was wielding that knife in his face, that he was seconds from passing out, he tried to crawl for him.

  His reason.

  His reason.

  He would sacrifice it all.

  “Stop!” That voice trembled from the other side of the room, and Mack’s father wheeled around at the sound of it. Izzy stood just on the outside of her father’s study.

  Arms shaking like mad as she aimed a shotgun in his father’s direction. “You move, I’ll shoot,” she warned, though it came out sounding small.

  Terrified.

  Part of him wanted to yell at her for exposing herself. For revealing her hiding place. The other part of him screamed with pride. At her courage.

  His father cracked a grin, and he started to move for her. “You think you’re gonna actually pull that trigger?”

  Izzy’s mama whimpered where she was pressed to the wall beside her.

  “I will,” Izzy said, “I will for all the things you’ve done to him.”

  His father started to go for her, and she held the gun steadier, and he wavered before he completely froze when the sound of sirens started to scream their approach.

  Izzy had called the cops. Izzy had stopped it.

  Relief blasted through his spirit. It sent the adrenaline draining from him just as fast as the blood drained from his side.

  Coldness crept over him, and his head spun with a rush of dizziness.

  His father turned toward him, the same kind of hatred Mack watched him with radiating back. “You’re gonna pay for this, Mack. One day, you’re gonna pay.”

  He didn’t care.

  He didn’t care.

  The only thing he cared about was she was safe.

  His Little Bird was safe.

  Mack slumped facedown on the floor.

  * * *

  The next night, Mack climbed their tree one last time. Excruciating pain tore through is body. He didn’t know if it was coming from his side or if it was the crushing of his soul.

  He made it to where the dim light glowed at the window, and he peered inside, his heart ripping and tearing.

  So full and so empty.

  He tapped at the window, his throat bobbing the heavy affection when she smiled like she’d been expecting him and reached over and pushed up the window.

  “Maxon. Your side. You should have come through the front door. God, I’ve been so worried about you,” she whispered in a rush.

  Everything clutched, agony cinching down on every cell in his body.

  He slipped through, and she stood from the chair, and her slight, delicate body rocked toward his.

  Drawn.

  “Izzy Baby,” he said. Sorrow filled his smile. Just looking at her hurt.

  Her lips trembled, and he could still see the remnants of terror darkening those hazel eyes, the trauma that had been written on this girl.

  “I’m so sorry,” he murmured, wishing he could take it away and knowing he would be forever responsible for the scar that would forever deface her spirit.

  “You don’t have a thing to be sorry for.”

  Bitter laughter pulled up his aching throat. “Don’t have a thing to be sorry for? You were almost killed, Izzy. You and your mama. Because of me.”

  She blinked in refusal. “No. Because of your father.”

  “Don’t you get it, Izzy? That man is me. He’s in my blood. You have any idea the things I’ve done?”

  All his sins came blistering through his memory.

  “You haven’t done anything but protect me. Protect my family.”

  His lips pressed into a grim line. “They’re investigating. They’re gonna take me away. Like I deserve to be. And even if they don’t? You deserve so much more than I could ever offer you.”

  Agony pinched her gorgeous face. “Don’t you dare say that. Don’t you ever say you don’t deserve me. We are meant for each other. We’ve always been.”

  “No. We aren’t.”

  Those little hands came out for his shirt, fingers curling in with the plea. “Yes, we are. I love you. I love you so much. Don’t do this to me.”

  He felt himself crack right down the middle.

  Pieces strewn far and wide.

  Littered across the space.

  “Maxon . . . my dragon . . . you saved us. You did. You have to know that.”

  Unable to stop himself, he gripped her by the outside of her shoulders, just needing to feel something.

  The connection that he could feel getting ready to snap.

  Forever severed.

  “Someday you’ll realize it. You’ll realize you are so much better off without me. I can’t give you the life you deserve.”

  “I love you.” It was a deep, reverberating cry that echoed against her walls.

  A plea whispered from her soul.

  Mack gave into the selfishness that screamed through his veins. The greed that had gotten her into this mess in the first place.

  Only one more second.

  He needed one more second.

  He gathered her close, felt the beat of her heart, breathed in her spirit.

  Wild jasmine and the sun.

  “I will always love you, Little Bird.” He pressed his mouth to her forehead and whispered, “Endless.”

  He ripped himself away. He could feel more of those pieces breaking loose. Crumbling to the ground. Scattering.

  He couldn’t breathe.

  He forced himself to back toward the window, watching her as he did.

  Tears covered her face, and she pressed her hands to her chest like she was trying to hold those pieces in. “Maxon . . . don’t do this. Please, don’t do this. I know you. I know you better than anyone. You ar
e amazin’. Wonderful. Good. My dragon.”

  Sorrow curled the corner of his mouth, and he knew he had to let that fantasy go.

  This . . . this was his reality.

  “Fly, Little Bird. Be free.”

  He wouldn’t clip her wings any longer.

  * * *

  Rage had taken him over. An ugliness that darkened his spirit and clouded his thoughts.

  Loss unending. Vacancy throbbing through his being.

  The taillights of the officers’ cruiser that had shown at his porch blinked through the evening. But he found no solace in their words.

  “We’re sorry for what you’ve been through. For what it’s worth, he’ll be gone for a very long time.”

  The man had tipped him his hat, backed away, and climbed into his cruiser.

  Mack was a free man.

  He hadn’t been implicated.

  But he knew he would always be in chains.

  He stumbled over to the shed and threw open the sliding metal door to the emptiness that echoed back. All the cars were gone, the parts that had littered the space taken as evidence. His mama’s things were still piled in the corner near the door, sifted through but left when they were found not important to the case.

  He felt a presence roll over him from behind. Though this was different. Sticky and ugly.

  Just like him.

  “I stopped my daddy from going after you,” Clarissa murmured from behind.

  He heard the click of her high heels on the cement floor two seconds before she ran her hand up his back. “Of course, when he heard the sirens coming up toward the house next door, he cleaned up his tracks good.”

  Chills skated his skin, and not the pleasant kind.

  “You didn’t tell them about us? About my daddy’s involvement?” She purred it, winding around him, her fingertip running the line of his jaw.

  “You might be the only reason they’re still breathing,” he told her, teeth clenched.

  She smiled in her coy way. “I’m not evil, Mack. I just know my place. Just like you should.”

  He did. Understood it fully.

  Don’t mix light with darkness.

  Beauty with ugliness.

  Selflessness with greed.

  “My daddy’s gonna get back down to business once things settle down. You have your place with us.”

  He gripped her by the wrist. “Don’t want any part of it.”

  She just wound her other arm around his neck and pressed herself to his body. Her voice turned low with the seduction she wore like her own personal brand. He finally got that was her way of existing. How she persevered in this sordid world.

  They’d both done what they had to do to survive.

  “Of course, you do, Mack. It runs in your blood. Stop pretending you’re someone you’re not.” She hiked up on her toes and whispered in his ear, “You are just as guilty as your daddy. How many cars have I personally watched you take across state lines? I know you, just like you know me.”

  His hold loosened on her wrist, and she grinned wickedly when it was freed, and she wound that one around his neck, too. “I’ll keep your secret if you keep mine? We fit, Mack. Belong together. Don’t you agree?” She pouted like she thought it was appealing, like he was supposed to ignore the threats weaved through her words.

  Stitching through him like a rusted needle.

  She held the truth over his head.

  It didn’t matter. And he didn’t give a fuck if she turned him in.

  He knew his place.

  She hiked herself up and pressed her mouth against his.

  He felt nothing but hatred.

  Hatred in the kiss that he returned.

  Hard and full of spite.

  It felt like a branding.

  Chains of condemnation that wrapped around his soul.

  Because this was who he’d always been. Pretending he’d been anything better was nothing but a cruel, sick joke.

  Thirty-Three

  Mack

  I climbed down our tree. As soon as my feet hit the ground, I got sucked into a spiral of rage and turmoil. A battering to my heart and mind.

  Anger seethed in overpowering waves.

  Dragging me under.

  Fuck.

  I should have been upfront with her. Just . . . laid it out instead of being a pussy.

  A coward.

  I should have warned Izzy about Clarissa. Come clean. But that’s what shame did to you—it made you want to hide it. Sweep it under a rug. Pretend that you weren’t guilty.

  But the bitter truth remained that I was.

  Fucking guilty.

  Guilty all along.

  My heart screamed to hit the porch, knock on the door the way I did every morning, and have the smiling, excited faces of those boys jerking open the door to wish me a good morning.

  But I couldn’t do that.

  Not until I fixed this.

  Found a way to ensure they were safe.

  I trudged across the rambling lawn and away from the house as the sun climbed for the sky.

  Needing to get away and knowing I couldn’t go far.

  So goddamn unsure of my place and what I was supposed to do that I couldn’t see straight.

  Couldn’t make sense of the war raging inside of me.

  Torment unending.

  Grief stunning.

  All the while, devotion blew through me with the force of a hurricane.

  I started to twist through the hedge of trees that rose up like a wall surrounding Izzy’s property. Got the sense that maybe they stood like soldiers to protect this place.

  A shroud to cover their home in grace.

  Or maybe they just existed as a barrier to separate our two worlds.

  I’d let that disconnect divide us for thirteen years. How could I allow it to happen again? But I could feel that choice fading away, joy slipping through my fingers.

  I trudged over the overgrown grasses and through the tangle of limbs before I stumbled out into the meadow that had been ours. The brook babbled as it tumbled over its bed of smooth rocks, and rays of morning light slanted through the leaves and tossed the meadow in gold and silver glitter.

  The distinct scent of wild jasmine filled my senses with the warmth of her.

  It’d always felt like a fantasy.

  A fairy tale.

  I stood in the middle of it. Breathing it in. Trying to calm the rage that rioted within.

  To find a direction.

  An answer.

  I froze when I felt a faint presence looming from behind.

  Warily, I looked over my shoulder. Suffocating guilt struck me when I saw Izzy’s father standing between two trees at the very edge of the meadow.

  This was a man I’d respected. One I’d let down almost as badly as I’d let down Izzy.

  Last night, Izzy’s parents had freaked the fuck out when I’d called to let them know what had happened. Rightly so. Izzy had begged them to stay home. Be with the boys. Told them that was what she needed most—for the boys to remain unaffected and unaware.

  The girl protecting them. Just like I should.

  He stood in the distance, holding something that I couldn’t make out. After last night-- after every fucked-up thing I’d done—I was surprised it wasn’t that shotgun.

  Unease whirled through my being. “I’m so sorry,” I grated loud enough so he could hear, voice cutting through the morning.

  It was the truth. I was so damned sorry for dragging that incredible family into my sordid world.

  Time after time.

  Maybe I never should have crossed that bridge segregating us in the first place.

  “You seem to have a lot you’re sorry for, Maxon.” His voice warbled a little, filled with emotion and old age. But there didn’t seem to be a whole lot of anger lacing it.

  Disappointment, maybe.

  Affection, too?

  A frown pulled across my brow. “Have plenty, don’t I? All the things I put your daughter through?�
�

  His head slowly shook, and he took a step deeper into the meadow. The man was short, and his shoulders had started to hunch, but there was no missing the conviction and strength in his voice. “Only blame you wear was walking away.”

  My frown pinched in disbelief, and bitter laughter ripped free. “My only blame? I got your daughter caught up in a world where she didn’t belong. Right from the get go. Thinking I could somehow fit. And look where that got her. Where it got your family. My father hated you all because of me. It was my fault you almost lost them that day. What other choice did I have but to walk away?”

  He took another step forward, lifting his chin. “Your father hated everyone, Maxon, because that’s what he was—hate and cruelty. Long before you came along, I tried to get through to him. Hoping he might find something inside of himself that was good. But that man didn’t possess a kind bone in his body.”

  Get mad, boy. You are just like me.

  My father’s taunt wound through my spirit.

  I flinched against the assault of it.

  Izzy’s father made a soft sound of dispute. “Think your first mistake was thinkin’ you were like him. You think your good didn’t always shine through? You think we didn’t know it all along?”

  “You should hate me.”

  “Hate you? Don’t like you much right now, honestly, messing with my daughter’s heart. The way you’re contemplating runnin’ again.”

  I started to refute him, but wavered, the words dying on my tongue.

  “Wanted to hunt you down myself after I found out about Benjamin,” he continued. “Knock some sense into you. But hate you? That’s not possible.”

  He took another step closer. “We wanted you, you know . . .”

  Confusion had me squinting, and my hands started to shake with uncertainty. Or maybe it was just my spirit trembling with the fear of what he was getting ready to say.

  He took another feeble step forward, his voice low. “Tried to convince your mama to let us adopt you when we finally got your father sent off to prison when you were a baby. Of course, that was after we tried to convince her to leave that monster, but she refused. Said she loved him. Think she was always a bit confused by what that meant.”

  Agony gripped my chest when he mentioned my mother.

  Horror and hate.