“And, today, you could have lost him.”
“Yes, but I didn’t. I know you’re probably furious with me for overreacting.”
My head snaps up. “You think I’m furious? I’m so fucking sorry it happened I want to punch something.”
“Pierce, I said some awful things about your daughter, your ex, and your parenting. It was uncalled for.”
She’s calm, too calm, the familiar tune of resignation in her voice. “Don’t, Darby. Don’t you dare retreat. Everything you said was right, and you aren’t the one who needs to apologize. Maya acted irresponsibly today, and her actions caused injuries. It doesn’t matter if the injuries were to a dog; it was unacceptable. She was conniving and malicious, like you said, and the worst part is that I’m to blame.”
“W-w-why do you say that?”
“Because, in a way, I’ve nurtured this behavior. You are right. I have to stop blaming it on Connie and get a handle on that shit. It’s my job to parent her in the right direction and guide her to live by a moral compass.”
“Obviously, her mother can’t do that because she preyed on a wounded man in an effort to get what she wanted out of life,” Darby says faintly.
“That’s right, baby. She did, but I was living on the edge of destruction and played my part in that well. But I could live the rest of my life if you never refer to her as my ‘ex’ again.”
She giggles even with her eyes brimming with tears. “I thought you’d want this back after I laid into you the way I did.” She slips the ring to the tip of her finger, and I can’t control the low rumbling growl that rises in my throat.
“Don’t take that ring off. If I had it my way, I’d attach it to your finger permanently. This doesn’t change what’s happening between us. It’s a wake-up call for me to open my eyes to the importance of teaching my kids the basics of right and wrong. You said something that hit home today.”
“I said a lot of things in the heat of the moment.”
“You said Cole is just like me, and he is because I know how to deal with boys. Maya is a reflection of her mother because I’ve allowed it. Tonight, when she was afraid of Connie’s reaction to our engagement, you shook with anger at her fear of her mother. I need you to stick with me here because I’m getting to the bottom of this.”
“Do you think something is happening in their house?”
“I think Connie has conditioned her in a way that she doesn’t know how to think and stand up for herself.”
“That’s scary.”
“It’s going to end. You’re not giving up on us.”
“I don’t see…” She trails off, and I can guess a hundred ways for her to finish that sentence.
“I need you, baby.” Desperation bleeds into my statement. “I failed you today by not fulfilling my promise to protect you. I need to know you are still with me.”
She has no resistance, wiggling the ring back down and reaching for me. I slide behind her, folding her into my body, careful of her wine. Dropping my mouth to her neck, I skim my tongue along the tendon and inhale her scent. There are many things left unsaid, but for now, I’ll take this, knowing she’s not giving up.
•—•—•—•—•
I wake at dawn when a hard object presses to my shoulder. My gaze slowly focuses on big, brown, sad eyes. Runner drills the cone into me a few times, and I pat his nose, shifting Darby off my chest.
“I’ve got you, boy.” My legs protest when I press up and use the arm of the couch as leverage. “Jesus, I’m getting old,” I mutter.
Runner wobbles, clearly in pain but needing to go outside. I pick him up and grunt again at his weight, knowing Darby shouldn’t have carried him yesterday. He limps around, does his business, and then lays on his side, looking to me for help. I haul him up, take him inside, and search for the pills Darby mentioned.
“They’re on the far counter next to his treats,” she mumbles from the floor.
He’s not persuaded, stealing the treat and hobbling back to her. I grab a bottle of water and go to lie next to her. Runner’s already at her side, trying to dislodge himself from the cone, and she’s talking softly.
“Here’s the pill.” I slide it into her hand and watch as she shoves it in his mouth, holds his mouth shut, and rubs his throat.
“That’s harsh.” I pity the dog.
“He’s fine.” Her face crumples in pain when she sits up, and I wish like hell I could stay here and take care of her today. But the sooner I get my shit sorted, the sooner I can get back here.
“I hate to say this, but I’ve got to go.”