Pieces of Us (Confessions of the Heart 3)

I gave a tight nod, my fingers clutched together, squeezing to keep myself from flying to my feet and putting a fist through the wall. “What’s wrong with him?”

A lumbering sigh parted her lips. “He has cerebral palsy. No one knew until about nine months after he was born that he’d suffered a brain injury from the oxygen deficit at birth. He just . . . wasn’t progressing normally. Wasn’t crawling or playing with his toys the way an infant would at his age.”

Indecision had her shifting, glancing at the floor before she finally looked back at me. “He’s an amazing child, Maxon. Amazing and smart and he works so hard that just watchin’ him breaks my heart. Makes it bust up with pride. I was warned he might not ever walk, might not ever talk, but after seven surgeries, he took his first step.”

That was it.

All I could take.

I sprang to my feet, welcoming the searing pain that sheered through my body.

A thousand knives slicing me into pieces.

Aggression curling through me, I pressed both my fists to the wall, like it could absorb the brunt force of the hatred I felt right then.

Arms shaking with restrained exertion.

Teeth gritting.

I flew back around, jagged breaths surging out before I was dropping to my knees at her feet.

Shock rocked her back, and I grabbed her by the face. “I’m so sorry. I’m so fuckin’ sorry. And those words don’t mean a goddamn thing, but I am.”

I knew I’d spewed a bunch of shit at her last night. That she didn’t believe a fucking word I said. But I was going to prove to her that she could.

Tears blurred her eyes, that mesmerizing dance of browns and greens. “I should have come back sooner. Told you. But it was easier for me to stay away than to have to face you. I’m sorry for that.”

“Don’t apologize to me, Izzy. I was mad . . . shocked yesterday . . . but you don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

It was on me.

All the blame.

All the fault.

Just like it’d always been.

“I want to know him.”

She blinked hard, and a slew of tears slipped down her gorgeous face. There was nothing I could do but gather them up, my thumb tracking up the path of the moisture.

“I’m not sure you’re ready for that, Maxon. I . . . I can’t have you comin’ into his life and then deciding it’s too hard. I should have given you time to figure it out before. I realize that now. I just . . . got back here and saw you and got carried away.”

I tightened my hold on her face. “I want to get carried away.”

Fuck. I wanted to get carried away.

Run ahead and behind and in between. Be there for them, every step of the way, racing a few extra million laps to make up for what I’d lacked.

A bluster of dread and worry flickered at the back of my brain.

Had anything really changed?

But there was no chance in hell I was gonna turn my back on my kid.

“He’s my priority. Not you. Not me. It’s my job to protect him.”

“Let me protect him, too.”

There was my answer—everything had changed.

I wasn’t about to let my past railroad me any longer. Fear holding me hostage. Look what good that had done.

A war played out on her face, those teeth going to town on her bottom lip.

My guts twisted, wanting to dip in, kiss it away.

She glanced to the far wall, contemplating, before she looked back at me. “You really want to get to know him?”

“More than anything.”

“Why don’t you come back over tonight for dinner? But I . . . I’m not ready for us to tell him who you are. You’re my old friend. Nothing more. Not until we both can be certain you can handle this.”

Relief gusted through my soul.

So heavy I sagged forward and pressed my face to her heart that thundered in her chest. I wanted to reach out and touch it, carry some of her weight.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” she said.

She leaned back, searching for space. For distance. I had to fucking pry myself from the lure of that sweet body. Wanted to pick her up and pull her onto my lap.

Undress her fast and kiss her slow.

Hold her and fuck her and love her and keep her.

The way I should have done all those years ago.

Discomfort wound its way back into the atmosphere, and she looked at the clock before she angled those eyes back on me. “I need to get home and get a shower. I start work this mornin’. Do you think you’ll be okay to take care of yourself?”

“Yeah. I’m okay.”

Fucking lie, but it didn’t have a thing to do with my busted to shit body.

I pushed to my feet and stretched out my hand. She hesitated for a second before she accepted it.