Catching Teardrops (MAC Security 5)

“I’m sorry, Hank, I never—”

“You never what? Huh? What?” He sends his fist into her stomach, causing her to cry out as she pleads with him to stop, all the while I’m sitting opposite them, silent tears streaming down my face, my voice not working. I want to shout at him to stop hurting her, to stop shouting at her, but nothing is working.

“I’ll do better,” my mom tells him, her face pleading with him. He stares for a beat before letting her go and pulling out his chair between us.

“Eat your dinner,” he commands at me, his ice-blue eyes lighting with fire when he looks at me. My shaky hands cause the fork to rattle, but I look down, doing as he said, afraid if I don’t, I’ll be next.

I shoot up in bed, sweat coating my skin as my breaths come in pants, my hands curled into fists. It takes me a minute to come to and realize where I am.

I’m not there anymore. He can’t get to me or my mom.

My whole body shakes with pent-up anger but also panic. I’ve never told anyone about the nightmares, and when I look down at Lily in the bed next to me, I know I can’t sleep with her tonight.

I can’t let her see that side of me. I know what she’ll view me as when she finds out what I did, and then she’ll look at me just the same as her dad.

We’ve shared the bed for the last week since she’s been here but being back on the job and outside her dad’s house last night has triggered more than I can handle.

The memories have always haunted me, but not to the extent they have since she’s been sleeping peacefully at my side.

Normally I’d lie here, imagining the scene I dreamed over and over again, only with a different outcome. Sometimes I’d shout at my dad to leave my mom alone, sometimes I wouldn’t confront him on that particular day and he kills her instead.

But I can’t do that with Lily next to me. I need air, I need to breathe.

Yanking the covers back before I get out of the bed, I run my hands over my face and pull against the waistband of my sweatpants that sit low on my hips. I don’t look back as I walk out of the bedroom and down the stairs before pulling open the front door and inhaling a deep breath of fresh air.

The sky is just starting to lighten, not enough for the sun to be breaking through the sky, but enough to tell me it’s imminent.

Leaning against the wooden frame, I look out at the compound, the gates secure, everyone’s lights off. Just knowing I’m not the helpless boy I used to be calms me, but as I’m about to step back inside, I tilt my head at the small light coming from over by the warehouse.

I don’t move an inch as the gravel crunches under someone’s feet, and when the light shines on my SUV and someone crouches down, I know it’s Dean. I step back, about to close the door and head inside for my boots to confront him, but when a soft hand lands on my back, I twirl around.

“Hey,” Lily whispers, her sleepy eyes staring up at me before she looks around my body. “What’s—”

Grabbing hold of her arm, I push her inside and shut the door behind me. I push

her up against the wall and lean my body into hers so we can’t be seen through the glass window in the door.

His footsteps come closer, and I look down at Lily. “Shhh,” I tell her, placing my finger over her lips.

Her eyes widen, the blue becoming alert as she hears it too. “Who is it?” she whispers, her breath on my neck.

Looking down at her, I realize where I’m holding her hip and start to let go, but when the light shines through the glass, I yank her down and cover my body with hers.

“Dean,” I say in her ear, my voice low. “He was looking at my SUV too.”

Lifting my head a little, I look into her eyes, trying to portray something I’m not sure she understands, but when the light disappears and the footsteps trail away, she says, “I met him earlier.”

Listening out, I wait a minute before asking, “You did?”

“Yeah.” Frowning, she says, “He was looking at me weird, like… I don’t know.” She shakes her head.

“Like what?”

Biting her bottom lip, she whispers, “Like he already knew who I was. I don’t know.” Waving her hand in the air, she says, “I was probably—”

“No,” I tell her with more force than I meant to. “Your gut tells you something, you listen to it.”

She stares up at me, the blue in her eyes darkening, and when I look down, I realize I’m on top of her, my bare chest against her t-shirt-covered one, and just as I’m about to get up, she says, “Why haven’t you touched me?”