Pieces of Us (Confessions of the Heart 3)
“What did I tell you about waitin’ inside?”
But he didn’t have time to answer before Maxon was swiveling around, and I was moving toward Dillon, too, this feeling coming over me to get in front of my son. To be right there in case I needed to protect him.
Not that I would ever think Maxon would purposefully hurt him. And in a physical way?
Never.
But it was my job to protect my children the best way that I could. To shield them and hold them and ensure the relationships they were a part of, the ones they made, were the healthiest they could be.
“Hey, there,” Maxon said, so softly and with so much affection that my scrambled heart throbbed in an overwhelming bout of emotion. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Dillon. Are you really a cop? Do you have a gun? Have you had to shoot anyone? Do you get scared at your job?”
There my son went, rambling his unending slew of questions, while I was struggling to stand. To remain calm. To see this out before I totally lost my nerve and asked Maxon if we could do this another time.
Maxon chuckled and glanced up at me with a smile on his face, so big that it was making it hard for me to see anything but him kneeling there.
The kindness.
The goodness.
All the things I’d thought I’d seen in him before he’d proven just how cruel he could be.
I shook it off. I had to focus. I wasn’t finished. “Dillon, you weren’t supposed to come out here until I was finished talking with Mr. Chambers. You need to go back inside.”
“Ah, Mom. Why do you gotta be such a funsucker? I was just sayin’ hi.” He turned his attention back to Maxon, lowering his voice. “My mom is so serious all the time but that’s okay because she’s got the weight of the whole world on her shoulders. Life’s hard, Mr. Chambers.”
Maxon laughed, and then he wasn’t laughing any more.
I could feel it.
The shift in the air.
My alarm becoming his.
His spine stiffened. This staggering wave of energy cracked through the air as he straightened.
The man stumbled.
As if he’d been burned.
Broken.
I guessed I should have prepared myself for this, for his reaction to seeing Benjamin standing at the door.
Nine
Mack
Horror.
Gutting, ravaging horror.
It clutched every cell in my body, freezing me in that moment. I blinked, trying to break free, but those chains only cinched down tighter.
Was surprised I could even register it when Izzy scrambled around me. “Both of you . . . get back inside. Right now.”
“But mom,” the little one argued.
“Now, Dillon. Right now.” Her voice was desperate, flooded with panic as she tried to get her kids back inside.
While I stood there. Hands fisted in my hair. Freaking the fuck out. Trying not to puke right there on the ground.
Wanted to pry my eyes away, but there was nothing I could do but stare at the kid in the doorway. This kid who was way too skinny and had these crutches that looked like he used every day and had the exact fucking eye color as mine.
Same as it looked like his face could have been carved out of me.
Jesus.
Reality crashed. A tidal wave. Devastating.
I had a kid. I had a kid.
And Izzy hadn’t told me.
Izzy’s mother was suddenly there, clambering around to help. “I’m so sorry, Izzy Mae. I was getting the chicken from the pan onto the platter and they slipped out before I could stop them.”
“Just, get them inside,” she pled, and finally they were wrangled in, the door slamming shut, leaving just Izzy and me on the porch.
Rage came eating up the shock I’d initially felt.
Fury and hurt.
Fury and hurt.
They cut and slashed and filleted, knives slicing deep, pain screaming so loud I could barely hear. Could barely stand. Could barely breathe.
Problem was, I didn’t know who to aim the fury at.
Izzy stood with her back to me, her shoulders pumping up and down, the silence echoing between us with the force of a storm.
A storm that assuredly would decimate.
Bile rolled up my throat, and my chest was heaving, body starting to shake with a turbulence I stood no chance at keeping at bay. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” I growled.
She whirled on me, tears streaming down her face, but there was fury on her face, too. Written on every inch. “No, Maxon, it’s not a joke. Does my life look like a joke to you?”
I pressed my fists to my eyes, trying not to fucking break down right there and sob like a bitch. Was not a crying man. But considering I’d just been knocked with the reality that I had a kid and I’d missed out on twelve years of his life, I was thinking I’d earned a pass.
I dropped them just as fast. Just feeling . . . irate and pissed and fucking worried.