It was carved on Heath’s too.
In a different way. In the same way a kind of pain was on Lance’s.
The man had suffered through what Lance was going through right now. He found it hard to understand that someone else had experienced a pain this big, because he didn’t think the world was large enough to contain more of this. But he knew better. Knew the world always accommodated more pain.
He didn’t have to answer Heath for the man to know he’d gotten his attention.
“When you first lay eyes on her, once we get her back where she belongs, what you gonna say to her?” Heath asked, still in that same, calm, reasonable voice. Like it was a forgone conclusion that Elena was coming back. That she was just out getting the fucking groceries or something. Not that she was taken by her unhinged and violent ex with nothing left to lose.
His fists clenched at his sides. As he was about to lose it, he realized what Heath was doing. He was giving him something to hold onto. Something to focus on that wasn’t the fact that Elena was fuck knows where with her abusive husband.
“I’m gonna tell her I love her,” he said without hesitation.
Heath nodded. “Smart opening, man.”
Lance’s fists stayed clenched. “She’s already said it to me,” he continued, remembering the way the fucking air tasted after she’d put those words out there. “She didn’t mean to say it. Elena always blurts out exactly whatever’s in her fucking head at the time. I never have to wonder what she’s thinking.”
He almost smiled at the memory of that. Then he remembered that there was no reason to smile right now. That there might not be another reason to want to smile.
“It was offhand, natural,” he continued, having no idea why the fuck he was blurting all this shit out. “She didn’t realize that she said it until after.” He paused. “I didn’t say it back. Not because I didn’t. Not because I don’t. But I wanted to say it after. When all this shit was in our rearview. When she didn’t have that fucking shadow behind her eyes.” His vision blurred. “I waited. And now I fucking don’t know if I’m gonna get to tell her.”
Heath moved forward, despite knowing what a dangerous move that was when Lance was like this. His hand settled on Lance’s shaking shoulder.
“You’re gonna get to tell her, man,” he said, making a promise that he had no way of being able to keep.
Lance gritted his teeth. “Yeah,” he said, sounding more sure than he really was. “She told me once, to have faith that things were gonna work out for people that deserved it.” He struggled to get himself to control his emotions, control the sudden need to smash Heath’s face in. To rip this whole fucking room apart with his bare hands. To rip this entire fucking world apart until he found her, until he was covered in the blood of the man that took her from him.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Is Mom gonna come home soon, Captain?” Nathan asked, eyes wide and voice wobbling just a bit.
It was a punch in the fucking gut, and Lance was surprised he was able to feel new blows, he was in that much pain. But the kid who stole his heart, just like his mother had given him new pain.
Because he was trying to keep his shit locked. His fear. Pain. Five fucking years old, and he was braver than Lance himself.
He didn’t know what was going on, that his father was a fucking psychopath and had kidnapped his mother, but he wasn’t stupid. Elena hadn’t been at home, the home she’d made for all of them. She was a ghost already, her presence everywhere and fucking nowhere.
Lance didn’t lie to him when he’d asked where his mom was. He did that because of Elena.
“I never lie to him,” she whispered, trailing circles on his pec with her finger. It was after the initial court hearing, when she’d told Nathan his daddy had to go to jail because he’d done some bad things to nice people. Nathan had taken it well. Very fucking well. Just nodded and saying, “Yeah, he didn’t seem very nice when I had my visit with him.”
“I always wonder if it makes me a bad mother,” she continued, her voice smaller, more vulnerable. “Telling him the truth when a lie would be easier.”
His arms tightened around her and he had to stop himself from squeezing hard enough to hurt. He had to do that a lot. Stop himself from hurting her because he couldn’t fucking control how much he loved her. He was broken in that way, he knew. Life with Elena would always be beautiful, but it’d be a battle. Because he didn’t know how to love her right, gentle. She knew that. And she loved him anyway.