Accidental Shield

I bite my lip. Bryce looks too much like him to be a lie, so I ask, “What was she lying about?”

“Not Bryce, he’s mine,” he says, almost reading my thoughts. “It was her life she lied about. Her habits. The money I constantly sent her went to drugs. Any rotten shit she could get her hands on. I’d already gotten custody of Bryce, but the night she died…” He shakes his head, his lip curled up in a silent snarl. “One of the worst nights of my life.”

“What happened?” I touch his arm, sensing the tension under his skin.

My heart aches, just seeing the look crossing his face, the agony he lived etched into every crease on his brow.

“Bitch was high, babe. She rolled her Jeep. I was at work, burning the midnight oil to get my security company off the ground so I’d be home during the day when she’d come and try to take Bryce behind my back. The police came to my jobsite, told me about the accident.”

I study Flint hard, my heart stopped in its tracks.

“They wanted to know if Bryce was with her. There was a kids’ seat in the car, some of his clothes, his toys. They were afraid he’d been thrown out when the vehicle rolled and couldn’t find him anywhere. He’d been with my ma, but I knew there was a chance Brina would’ve gone to my place and taken him if Ma got distracted. And she wasn’t answering her phone.”

Oh, God.

His voice simmers to a low, poison growl. “That hour, from the time when the cops questioned me on his whereabouts to the time I got home, holding him in my arms, was the longest fucking hour of my life.” He lets out a long sigh. “Turns out, Ma shut the ringer off on her phone because Brina kept calling nonstop. She was hard up for cash, money she owed another fucking dealer or some shit.”

My heart tightens in my chest. “Oh, Flint, that’s terrifying.”

“It was. The accident happened less than five miles from my place. I figured she was on the way there, to get Bryce. Thinking she could hold him hostage until I gave her more money or something. I don’t know. The coroner said her toxicology report was off the charts at the time of her death.”

“Is that why you moved here?” I ask, already understanding it’s just one of the many things he’s done to keep his son safe. Even from horrible memories Bryce was too young to recall.

“Yeah,” he says.

One mundane word, heavier than ever.

A deeper understanding settles over me.

So that’s why he’s helping me. Keeping me safe. Going through this craziness he really doesn’t have to suffer.

It’s embedded in his makeup.

I think about the other part of what Beverly said.

About the scars, the same ones I’ve seen on his back every time he’s shirtless.

I’d gotten a good look last week, when he’d fallen asleep on the lounge chair.

It’s almost like…someone just dragged something up his whole body. Or punched holes in his skin, dangerously close to his spine.

Chills ripple through me from head to toe. An odd inkling tells me those scars have something to do with me. Somehow. Some way.

“Speaking of mothers,” he says. “We need to go see yours.”

“Wait, what?” Another chill arcs through me, so strong I rub my arms. “We do?”

“You heard me. I’ve had my contacts after Ray and his friends for days, but it’s gone quiet. We think he fled to Maui, possibly. I need to know more, Val. Only way that happens is you talking to the last person in your family who’s not an instant threat.”

* * *

Within the hour, we’re driving up to a sprawling beach house on the outskirts of Honolulu that feels vaguely familiar. Tiny hints of memories flash in my head. Images.

Mainly of the inside, of dark walls and dark rooms. Even though it’s next to the beach, there’s barely any sunshine inside this place. It’s a vortex of anxiety with the shadows to match.

“Are-are you sure she’s home? She’s here?” I ask, my insides shriveling up.

“She’s home,” Flint says, without a shred of doubt.

“How do you know?”

He puts the truck in park, turns to me, and lays a hand on my shoulder. “I’m not the only man helping you with this. I’ve hired some guys, trusted men who worked for me in the past. They’ve confirmed your mother’s around.”

“And Ray?” His very name makes me want to just fall into a hole in the ground.

“No. Promise. We wouldn’t be here if he was skulking around.”

A sense of relief has me freeing the air from my lungs.

“We should keep up the pretense of being a couple,” he says. “Otherwise, your ma will wonder who the hell I am.”

That also gives me more relief than it probably should.