Solid Ground: a Wounded Love novel

by Megan Green

  It isn’t a question. Hell, I’m not even sure it’s a statement. More like a sad observation. And those three words completely catch me off guard.

  “Uh…I’m…it’s…” I stammer, unable to form a complete sentence.

  Joey sadly shakes his head. “Why, Nic? What happened to you?”

  And, with those words, my anger returns in full force.

  “What happened to me? No. No, you don’t get to ask me that question. You left. And I stayed here. That was the end of whatever relationship might have been between us. So, you don’t get to show up here, more than a decade later, and try to act like we’re still friends. Like you still care. I’m just fine. Fucking fabulous.”

  He steps toward me, his hand extended as if he’s going to touch me. I shrink away.

  “I don’t even know what you’re talking about. James would never hurt me. He loves me.”

  Joey flinches at my words, at my insinuation that he didn’t love me. I know it’s a low blow. But, right now, I don’t care.

  I feel the hot sting of tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, and I blink them back before they can fall. I’m so caught up in my attempt not to cry that I don’t even notice Joey’s hand until it’s stroking my cheek, his callous fingers rough yet gentle against my tender skin. He runs his thumb over my cheekbone, his fingers coming to rest under my chin as he lifts my gaze to his.

  “Nichole,” he breathes.

  And the dam bursts. Tears pour down my cheeks as he pulls me into his arms. I sag against him, clutching his shirt as I sob into his chest. His strong arms hold me, his hands running over my hair as he whispers God knows what into my ear. I can’t hear a word he’s saying, his soft voice getting lost in the echoes of my sobs. But it comforts me all the same.

  “Mommy?” a little voice says from over my shoulder, snapping me out of my safe haven nestled in Joey’s arms and back into reality.

  I push myself out of Joey’s arms, hastily brushing at my tears, before I turn and sink to my knees in front of my son. “Yeah, baby? You having fun?”

  Cade doesn’t answer, his little eyes looking from me to Joey and then back again. “Are you okay?” His words are full of concern, his tone so grown-up that it tears my heart in two.

  My seven-year-old little boy just had to stop playing with his friend in order to come check and see if his mother was okay. Because, so many times in the past, she hadn’t been. So many times in the past, he’d had to help me to my feet. He’d had to hold me while I cried. He’d kissed my cuts and bruises better.

  When I should’ve been the one doing those things for him.

  What kind of mother are you?

  I shake off my internal scolding, plastering on the biggest smile I can manage. “I’m just fine, baby. You go on and play. Mommy is just going to sit here and chat with her old friend, okay?”

  Cade grins as he looks over at Joey, his eyes dancing with excitement when Joey returns the smile. “Hi, Joey,” he says with a big wave.

  “Hey, Cade. You playing soccer yet?”

  I don’t even have time to wonder what the hell is going on before the smile on Cade’s face widens.

  “Not yet. Not at school anyway. But my friend, Zach, and I are going to sign up for a team. Right, Mom?”

  Cade smiles up at me, reminding me that I need to call and get him registered for soccer before it closes next week. The other night, he came to me, asking if he could play soccer with Zach, and I was thrilled and promised him that I’d sign him up. I make a mental note to do that first thing on Monday morning. I can’t stand the thought of seeing the disappointed look on his face if he doesn’t get to play because I’m a shitty mom and I forgot to sign him up on time.

  I wince at yet another reminder of how I’m failing this poor boy. But Cade’s gleaming face as he talks to Joey pulls me out of my own head. I tune into their conversation, having missed most of it while feeling sorry for myself.

  “If it’s okay with your mom, that is,” Joey says, looking to me for approval.

  “Uh…” I say dumbly, trying to come up with some sort of answer that won’t make it sound like I wasn’t listening but won’t also get me in trouble.

  Too late.

  Joey laughs, completely aware of my game. “I asked Cade if he’d like to come over one night, so I can teach him the basics. I’ve got a big backyard. And I don’t know if you remember, but I used to be fairly good at soccer. Granted, I was better at football, but I could hold my own on the soccer field.” He smirks at me, amusement dancing in his eyes.

  Joey was the quintessential athlete. There wasn’t a sport on this earth that he couldn’t play. And, judging by the hard muscles currently on display under his T-shirt, I think it’s a safe bet that he hasn’t changed much.

  “You’re invited, too, of course,” he adds. “We can order pizza and have a couple of beers—root beer for you, little dude—and then you can watch while I teach your son how to be the best soccer player this town has ever seen.”

  I open my mouth to say no. There’s no way anything good could come out of me being at Joey’s house. And the thought of being alone with him, even with Cade there, out of the public eye, terrifies me.

  But Cade’s little voice interrupts my attempted refusal.

  “Please, Mom? Can we?”

  He sounds so excited, so thrilled, at the prospect of having pizza and playing soccer at Joey’s house that I can’t say no.

  Before I can stop them, I hear myself saying the words, “Of course we can.”

  I’m still visibly shaken from my encounter with James when we return to Moretti’s. I grab Cade a banana and a glass of milk, leaving him at the small table while I head to the bathroom. Turning on the shower so that he can’t overhear me, I turn back around and lean my hands on the small vanity in front of the mirror. My skin is pale, my eyes wide with terror and apprehension. I turn on the faucet in the sink, splashing some water on my face as I feel the tears welling in my eyes.

  Now that the adrenaline has worn off, my mind whirls with what might have happened had Joey not shown up.

  Would I have been able to escape James on my own? If it hadn’t been for his distraction with Joey, would I have noticed the mayor across the park? And, had the mayor not been there, would James and Joey have caused a scene?

  James has never been one to be violent in public. But the look on his face when Joey hadn’t backed down was one I’d only ever seen in private. It was pure contempt, pure malice. I doubt he’d had anyone stand up to him like that in years. He is used to people backing down, bending to his will. The fury in his eyes scared me. He wasn’t concerned about who could see. He was spoiling for a fight.

  I sink to the floor, letting the sobs rack my body with abandon. I feel so goddamn weak. So fucking pathetic. I’ve been fooling myself this whole time, thinking I had my shit together and could do this on my own. But one run-in with James, and I’ve been reduced to crying on the bathroom floor, hiding from my son, from the world.

  It felt so damn good to cry in Joey’s arms. To have someone hold me, comforting me with nothing more than a hug. He didn’t care that I was snotting all over his shirt. He didn’t care that people might have been watching. He just held me while I let go of years and years of terror and frustration.

  I can’t remember the last time I felt so safe, like I might not be completely alone in the world.

  And, for some reason, remembering the feeling of his arms wrapped around me makes me cry even harder. Because, no matter how good it felt, I know I don’t have him. He isn’t mine. Not anymore. I destroyed what we had more than a decade ago. Joey was there to help me. And I know, if I needed him again, he wouldn’t hesitate to do what he could.

  But it isn’t the same. I am still alone. I don’t have Joey in the way I once did. And, even after all this time, it hurts. Deep down, a part of me never stopped loving him.

  Before Cade and I left the park, we arranged to meet Joey at his place next Friday for dinner and socce
r. The way he’d interacted with my son melted my heart. He’d treated Cade like an equal. He hadn’t talked down to him. Hadn’t acted like Cade was a nuisance and he would say anything to get him to shut up. He’d seemed genuinely interested in my boy, actually excited at the idea of teaching him how to play soccer.

  Joey has always been good with kids. When we were in high school, he volunteered as a Big Brother whenever he was available. Those kids loved him. He taught them sports, tutored them, played childhood games, or just listened to them when they needed to talk. I always admired him for his dedication, knowing he’d be an amazing father to our own children one day.

  Then, I went and fucked it all up. Instead of a future with Joey, I ended up with years of abuse. Instead of Joey’s children, I ended up with James’s.

  How different would my life have been had I not made that one stupid decision?

  The bitter thought causes my stomach to turn, shame filling my chest as I realize what I just implied. No matter how terrible James is, how much I wish I hadn’t had to endure the years of turmoil at his hands, I can’t regret my decision. Not really. If things hadn’t played out the way they did, that precious little boy out there wouldn’t be here. And, without him, I would be nothing.

  Angry with myself for my selfishness, I force myself up off the floor before staring at my reflection once more in the mirror.

  Get your fucking shit together, Nichole. This is bigger than you. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, and remember why you’re doing this in the first place. This isn’t just for you. You need to do this for him.

  Splashing a little more water on my face to wash away the tears, I quickly fix my hair and turn off the shower. Taking a deep breath, I throw my shoulders back, my chin held high as I step out of the bathroom, hoping I appear stronger than I feel.

  Cade is sitting on the bed, his attention firmly fixed on the tiny TV we have in the corner. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to notice my puffy eyes and the fact that I didn’t actually shower, no matter how long the water was running. He’s too entranced by the fuzzy animated picture on the screen. I walk over and try to fix the old rabbit-ears antenna to clear the signal, but it’s pointless. After a few minutes, I give up and climb onto the bed next to my son. He giggles at something on the TV, and I wrap my arms around him, squeezing him into me.

  He smiles up at me, his gap-toothed grin making me smile and reminding me that I need to play Tooth Fairy tonight. He turns his attention back to the TV, settling in against me as he watches.

  I have absolutely no idea what we’re watching, and I couldn’t care less. Sitting here with Cade, the weight of his little warm body in my arms, is pure bliss.

  I berate myself once again for my meltdown on the bathroom floor.

  How can I ever say I’m alone?

  It doesn’t matter what happens because I’m never alone. Not as long as this little boy needs me. As long as I have him by my side, I can take on anything.

  The only man I need is the one sitting right here beside me, I remind myself. You can do this. You will do this. For him.

  We watch together for a little while, Cade’s soft laughter the only sound interrupting the comfortable silence surrounding us. In the middle of the second episode of whatever this is, I hear a soft rumble from Cade’s tummy. I glance at the clock, realizing how late it’s gotten. It’s past his usual dinnertime.

  Untangling myself from Cade, I scoot to the end of the bed, and I get to my feet. “You want some meatballs?” I ask, already knowing the answer to that question.

  He’s as addicted to Mario’s meatballs as the rest of the town.

  Cade nods enthusiastically, and I smile as I turn and open the door that separates our apartment from the rest of the restaurant. I’m immediately hit with the amazing smells of Italian herbs and cheese, and my stomach growls loudly. Looks like Cade isn’t the only one who’s hungry.

  Mario grins at me as I enter the busy kitchen, the dinner rush in full swing around me. “Topolino! I was wondering if we’d see you tonight. I was starting to think you and Cade had snuck out behind my back.”

  I smile at him as I move to the giant vat of pasta, dishing out some for Cade and me, before I walk over to Mario.

  He looks at me, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “What’s wrong, topolino?”

  I should’ve known he’d know something is up. He’s always been able to read me like a book. Even as a teenager, I could never hide anything from him. He always knew something was wrong before my own parents were even clued in.

  I shrug, knowing that trying to lie is useless. “Nothing I can’t handle,” I say, my spirits back up from holding Cade.

  Mario eyes me for another moment before his face splits into a wide grin. He drops the spoon onto the counter in front of him, and he pulls me against him, pasta bowls squished uncomfortably between us. He doesn’t even seem to notice.

  “That’s my girl, la mia bella ragazza. You’re so strong. So very strong.”

  I bite back the tears I can feel forming in my eyes yet again. Seriously, how many times in one day can a woman cry? But I refuse to let them fall this time. Not because I’m strong. But because I want to be.

  I awkwardly attempt to hug him back, juggling the bowls in my hands and trying not to spill noodles on both of us in the process. He pulls back after a few seconds, his eyes full of pride and happiness.

  I don’t feel worthy of eliciting either of those emotions in anyone. But, again, I remind myself that I’m not doing this for me. I’m not going through all these hardships and the constant fear for myself. I’m doing it all for Cade. He deserves to feel happy. He deserves to feel proud of his mom. I will be that person for him.

  So, instead of getting down on myself, I smile at Mario, hoping my face mirrors his own.

  “Thanks, Mario. I needed that hug. Now, can I get a few scoops of meatballs? Got a growing boy to feed upstairs.”

  Mario grabs the spoon, piling way more sauce and meatballs on top of our pasta than either of us needs. But, instead of protesting, I graciously thank him and head back upstairs.

  I can’t believe that, not even an hour ago, I was sobbing on the bathroom floor about how unfair my life was and how alone I was in the world. I have people who love me all around me. People who love Cade. I do not need a man in my life in order to live. I can do this without James. And I can do this without Joey. I can do this all by myself.

  I open the door and place the bowls of pasta on our little table before walking over to the bed. Cade has dozed off in the ten minutes I was gone, and though I hate waking him when he’s sleeping so peacefully, he needs to eat.

  I lean over him, smoothing his ruffled hair back from his face, and kiss him on the cheek. “Wake up, sleepyhead. Dinner’s ready.”

  He stirs groggily, rolling over in protest, until the smell hits his nose. His eyes spring open, his tongue darting out to run over his lips. He wastes no time, scrambling off the bed and rushing to the table. He’s already got a mouthful of meatball before I reach his side.

  I laugh at his exuberance. “Slow down, bud. It isn’t going anywhere. Don’t choke.”

  He slightly slows his chewing, but there’s no controlling him when Mario’s meatballs are involved. I quietly eat my own food, keeping a careful eye on him, while he shovels forkful after forkful into his mouth.

  Once we’re both done, he helps me with the dishes downstairs, laughing with Mario for a few minutes, before we both head back upstairs to get ready for bed. He takes a quick shower, washing away the sun and sweat from the park earlier in the day. After he dresses in his favorite Iron Man pajamas, I watch as he brushes his teeth before I tuck him into bed. I sit beside him, tracing soft circles on his back as he slowly drifts off.

  When I think it’s safe to move without disrupting him, I climb to my feet to make my own preparations for bed. I don’t get more than three steps away before his tiny voice sounds behind me.

  “Mom?”

  My shoulders slump. I thought
he was out cold. And I was looking forward to a long, hot shower – for real this time –to wash away the terribleness of this day.

  I walk back to his side, perching on the edge of the bed. “What’s up, bud? Can’t sleep?”

  He doesn’t answer my question. Instead, he asks one of his own, “Is Dad coming back?”

  My brows pull together as I’m unsure of where this question is coming from. The whole time we’ve been here, Cade hasn’t asked a single question about his father. He’s seemed happy that James wasn’t around. But maybe I’ve misread him. I’ve avoided the subject of James, not wanting to bring him up if Cade didn’t want to talk about him. Lord knows, I didn’t want to talk about him. But maybe that is unfair. Maybe, this whole time, Cade has been wondering what is going on, and I’ve taken the easy route—once again—and just ignored the problem, hoping that, in doing so, it would just go away.

  “Do you want him to, buddy?” I ask tentatively, smoothing his hair again.

  I’ve always loved Cade’s hair, ever since he was a baby. Whenever he fussed or he was hurting, my fingers would instinctively move to his hair as I hoped to soothe him in some small way. Then, it just became a habit. It drives him crazy sometimes, but I can’t help it.

  He doesn’t seem to mind now though. He closes his eyes, turning his face into my touch. When he opens them, his eyes look scared.

  “It’s okay, buddy. You can be honest with me. I won’t be mad. Do you want your dad to come back? Do you want to go home?”

  A tear trickles down his cheek, and my thumb wipes it away before it reaches his chin.

  “No,” he says softly, his voice barely more than a whisper.

  He sits up, wrapping his little arms around my shoulders as he buries his face in my neck. I wasn’t expecting this reaction, so it takes me a moment to respond. My arms encircle him, my hand gently patting his back as I hold him. After a moment, I slightly pull back, still keeping my grip tight on him, but it’s enough that my eyes are able to seek out his.