Swing and a Mishap (Summersweet Island 2)

This man that I gave my whole heart to when I was thirteen years old is standing here in front of me with a smile on his face, making me feel like what I do for my son isn’t good enough, just like Kevin. And I know. I know in my head they aren’t anywhere near the same, but I can’t tell my heart that when it feels like it’s being cut apart slowly, piece by piece. Right when I thought I had a backbone, it crumbles like dust as every jab Kevin has ever made at me flashes through my head.

“Public school? Wow, way to care about our son’s education by not sending him to private.”

“Do you even care how embarrassing it must be for him to never have designer clothing? Oh, that’s right. You can’t afford it.”

“You know all you have to do is ask, and I’ll pay for that expensive bat he needs. Come on, Wren, let me hear you beg for it. How much is our son worth to you?”

“So is this what the funhouse was all about?” I ask, swiping angrily at my tears that are falling fast down my cheeks as Shepherd looks at me in complete confusion. “Keeping me distracted so I wouldn’t question that text Owen sent me when we got in there? Well done. It definitely worked. No one can say you aren’t dedicated to the cause.”

“Whoa, what the fuck?” Shepherd asks, closing the distance and wrapping his hands around my arms when I’m suddenly just so fucking tired I don’t even care about moving away from him. “I don’t know what’s happening right now, but what happened in the funhouse has absolutely nothing to do with Owen’s text. Baby, what’s wrong? This is a good thing! Why are you crying?”

“I never thought in a million years you would ever make me feel like what I do isn’t good enough for my son.”

Shepherd’s head jerks back like I just punched him, and his hands drop from my arms and hang limply at his sides. And the nightmare that has haunted me since Owen was born comes crashing back in bright, vivid technicolor. The one where Kevin returns and he suddenly wants our son, and cares about our son, and he can give him more, and do more, and be more than I ever could, and in the blink of an eye, he’s taking him away from me, making him happier, and giving him everything I never could.

“Wren, I never—”

“Don’t,” I cut Shepherd off with a shake of my head, choking on every word that comes out of my mouth when just minutes ago I was getting ready to tell him I love him, and Jesus, does that make it even harder to breathe. “He’s my son. Mine. You don’t get to just come in here and flash your money and your fame and make all his dreams come true without talking to me first! I have spent his entire life being made to feel like I’m a piece of shit, because I can’t give him everything he has ever wanted in life, and I am not about to stand here and let you make me feel this way too.”

“How can you even say something like that, after everything….” Shepherd’s raspy, pain-filled voice trails off, and I can’t do this anymore. I don’t care if my words hurt him, because his actions cut deeper.

Grabbing my phone out of his hand down by his side, I continue wiping the tears off my cheeks as I walk around him. Shepherd brokenly whispers my name again as he quickly reaches out and grabs my arm, but I don’t even look back at him as I shake it off and keep walking.

“I can’t do this with you right now,” I say as I hear him walking behind me. “Please don’t follow me. I need to go home alone, to be with my son.”CHAPTER 19Shepherd

“Put me in, Coach.”“You done fucked up, bro.”

I throw the next dart even harder at the board hanging on the wall, and Bodhi lets out an annoyed huff from right next to it when the dart smacks against the metal wire separating the sections and drops to the ground.

“That’s the tenth dart you’ve broken the tip off of tonight,” he complains, bending over to pick up the broken pieces from the ground and tossing them into the trashcan next to him. “If you break another one, Ed won’t let us play with his toys anymore.”

“It’s fine. I’ll just buy him more fucking darts by flashing all of my goddamn money around,” I snap, whipping another dart at the board. This time, it gets wedged so deeply into the clapboard wall next to it that Ed might need to use the claw end of a hammer to pull it out.