One to Love (One to Hold 4)

“Ex.” I took another sip. “Ex boxer.”

“Is he from Bayville? Somebody you knew before?”

“No,” I looked down, chewing my lip. “I’m not sure where he’s from originally. He just moved to the area.”

Patrick’s brow lined, and my chest felt squirmy. “What’s his name? What do you know about him?”

“Slayde Bennett? He’s my age, so he must’ve been just getting started when he had to quit. Boxing, I mean.”

“Why’d he have to quit?” Patrick was studying me too closely.

These were all valid questions, and I hated not having answers for him. At the same time, I knew Slayde. He didn’t.

“I don’t know,” I finally admitted.

Patrick’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Those guys can be violent sometimes.”

“He’s not violent.” My mind traveled to the night on the beach when he’d rescued me. There was no way in hell I could tell Patrick about that. He’d lose it.

“Sounds like there’s a ‘but’ in there.”

“There isn’t!” I shook my head, meeting his eyes. “I was thinking of how to describe him. He’s more into meditation and stuff. He has a system. He’s very controlled.”

Inwardly I cringed. It was all coming out wrong, but thankfully Patrick didn’t jump on that. Instead, he exhaled deeply.

“You’re a grown woman—”

“Thank you!” I said a little too loudly.

“And I was about to say I trust you.” He held my gaze, and my little boy did as well, watching me from where his h

ead lay on his daddy’s shoulder. “But it’s like you women are always saying about my Harley—you’ve got other people who need you now, too. Remember that.”

“Oh, Patrick.” I stepped toward them both. “I could never forget that. I love you guys.”

“Mommy purple.” Lane pulled a long strand of my hair into his little hand. I caught it and kissed his baby knuckles.

He leaned down, and I took him from Patrick, hugging him close and kissing his neck. A lump ached in my throat. It was so hard to leave him. But that was what true love meant—sacrifice, making unselfish choices for the good of your loved one.

“Mommy will be back very soon,” I whispered. “Be a good boy for Mommy.”

Patrick took him, and it was like my heart stayed with that little body. I rubbed Lane’s back a moment longer. “Tell Elaine I said thanks. I’ll be back soon.”

“Take care of yourself, okay?”

Nodding, I grabbed my bag and headed out.

* * *

Driving back to Bayville, I thought about how Slayde withdrew when I first mentioned Lane. It was so common for children of abuse to think they shouldn’t be parents or have any contact with children. I tried to imagine what kind of a little boy he must’ve been to survive the abuse he’d suffered.

He fought all his life, and then he became a boxer. I hoped one day he might trust me enough to tell me why he walked away from his career. Perhaps it was something as simple as he didn’t want to fight anymore.

All of his thoughtful gestures filled my mind, from the flowers to his attempts to feed me instead of himself, and when I pulled into my parking garage, all I wanted to do was throw everything in my house, shower quickly and head right back out to see him.

Just then my phone buzzed with a text. Come to my place before you go home. I have something to show you.

It was Slayde, and I smiled, looking through my windshield a moment before turning the key and backing out of the garage again.