“I’m her mother!”
“And I’m her father!”
“No, you’re not!” she screamed, the back of her throat burning from anger as her words bounced off the walls and slammed into my soul.
It was as if a bomb went off in the living room and shook the entire foundation of my life. “What?” I asked, my eyes narrow and low. “What did you just say to me?”
“What?” a voice questioned from behind us. Lucy stood there with Talon in the stroller, stunned.
Jane’s body was still, except for her shaky hands. When her eyes met Talon’s, her shoulders rounded, and I saw it happen—her heart started to break, but I didn’t care. Not for a moment did I care about her pained expression. All I cared about was the fact that she was trying to tear my family away from me.
“I said, you’re…” She swallowed hard, looking at the floor.
“Look at me,” I ordered, my voice stern and loud. Her head rose and she blinked once before releasing a heavy sigh. “Now repeat yourself.”
“You’re not her father.”
She was lying.
She was evil.
She was dirty.
She was the monster I always thought I would be.
“How dare you walk in here with your lies to try to take her,” I whispered low, trying my best not to let them overtake me—my shadows, my ghosts, my fears.
“It’s not…” She grimaced and shook her head back. “I, um…”
“It’s time for you to leave,” I said, sounding strong, hiding my fear. A part of me believed her. A part of me felt as if there was always that feeling somewhere deep in the back of my mind and I just did my best to hide it, but a bigger part of me looked at Talon and saw pieces of me in her stare. I saw myself in her smile. I saw the best parts of me in her soul. She was mine, and I was hers.
“You were on a book tour,” she whispered, her voice shaky. “I, um, I was sick for weeks around that time, and I remember being annoyed that you went a week without even checking on me while you were on the road.”
My mind started racing back to that time period, trying to grasp any memories, trying to pick up any kind of clues.
Talon had been early. When I’d thought she was thirty-one weeks, she was twenty-eight, but I hadn’t let that idea simmer. Talon was my daughter. My baby. My heart. I couldn’t imagine that being anything less than true. “You had the flu, and you kept calling me.”
“I just wanted…” She paused, unsure what else to say. “He stopped by to check on me.”
Lucy’s voice was low. “Who’s he?” she asked.
Jane didn’t reply, but I knew exactly who Jane was speaking of. She’d told me the story many times. How caring he was, while I was cold. How he was gentle to all people. How he was always there for strangers, and truly there for those he loved.
“My father,” I said, my voice cracking. Kent Theodore Russell, a man, a father, a hero.
My personal hell.
There were parts of me that I saw in Talon’s eyes, but a bigger part of me looked at Talon and saw pieces of him in her stare. I saw him in her smile. I saw parts of him in her soul—and yet, she was not his, and he was not hers.
Even so, it was enough to break my soul.
“You should go,” Lucy told Jane.
Jane stood up straight and shook her head. “If anyone should go, it’s you.”
“No,” I scolded, uncertain how my heart was still beating. “If anyone should go, it is you. Right now.”
Jane went to argue, but she saw it—the fire inside me. She knew if she got one step closer, I would burn her to the ground. She gathered her things and left after stating that she’d be back.