Heartbreaker: A Filthy Dirty Love Novel

He’d never asked again. Even as a young boy, he’d seen the discomfort his dad felt at having to have that conversation. It was never said but fully understood. Now, as he looked at his mother’s sweet smile and long, flowing, golden locks, he wondered if he should’ve asked more. And fought for the answers he hadn’t known he wanted until this moment.

Those thoughts led him down a path of wondering if the anger he’d felt toward women growing up might have only been anger at himself for pushing them away. Before he could spiral out of control, and knowing the likelihood that this story could also be completely made-up, he asked, “Did you tell your son about what happened to his mother?”

“No.” John hung his head, voice soft. “No, I’m afraid I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I was so deeply ashamed,” John said softly, placing his mug back onto the table and linking his hands together on his lap. “I know what you must think of me, but I was so embarrassed that my failures had led to his mother leaving. That she felt a new life was better than the life she had with me. Then I couldn’t face telling him the truth. That I had caused her death.”

Maddox’s chest rose and fell with his heavy breaths. He couldn’t be sure his father was even telling the truth, but a little voice inside believed him. And he didn’t know what to do with this information.

John ran a hand over his face and drew in a long, deep breath before speaking again. “Do you think if I had told my son the truth, he would’ve forgiven me?”

Maddox stared at a stranger. So honest. So transparent. So regretful. So emotional. So unlike his father. Above all else, he stared at a man who’d done his best for him, and Maddox had only good memories. “Yes, I do think if you had told your son the truth, he would have forgiven you.” He paused. Then, not only for his father but for himself, too, he added, “And I’d bet he never would have blamed you at all.”

One second, John gave a soft, warm smile. The next, his expression became a little colder, a bit detached. “What were we talking about?” He blinked, his eyes widening, fear present in their depths. “Who are you?”

Maddox rose, taking his exit before an outburst happened. “Sorry to disturb you, sir. I’d brought you a cup of cider.” He pointed to the half-drunk mug on the table. “I thought you might like a drink before bed.”

“Ah, yes, yes I do. Thank you.” John picked up the warm beverage and glanced out the window, taking a long sip as if he hadn’t dropped the biggest bombshell on Maddox’s life. As Maddox turned to leave, John piped up. “Oh, and if you don’t mind, please tell that nurse Joss to come back. She was so lovely.”

“Sorry,” Maddox said slowly. “Did you say Joss?”

“I believe that was her name,” John said with a smile. “She came to see me today. I think…or was that yesterday?” He paused, shaking his head, then added, “I wonder if it was her who brought me this book.”

“This nurse,” Maddox pressed, still reeling, “what else did she bring you?”

John pointed over Maddox’s shoulder. “Have a look. It’s all right there.”

Maddox moved toward the basket sitting on a table. His dead, cold heart skipped a couple of beats as he stared at what was obviously a care basket. Countless books in different genres. Candies and mixed nuts. “Did she say why she was here?” he asked.

Nancy entered the room and answered with a gentle smile, “To visit a fellow cop who deserved some company.”

Knowing Joss had been sweet and thoughtful had never been a question in his mind. He glanced back to the gift basket and realized that sweetness made her unforgettable by not only him but also his father, a man who couldn’t even remember his son.

* * *

Two days after the breakup, and early into the morning, Maddox had slept only a handful of hours. The sun beamed through the window, and from his place on his couch, Maddox glanced up from the coffee table to find Grey entering the living room, as was the norm every Sunday morning.

“What’s all this?” Grey asked, waving to the pile of papers spread out on the table. “And why are you not ready for the gym?”

Working out was the last thing on Maddox’s mind. He leaned back on his couch and folded his arms. “Documents about my mother.”

Grey’s brows shot up to his hairline, and as he settled into Maddox’s favorite black leather recliner angled perfectly toward the TV in the corner of the room, he asked, “What documents?”