Lately, sneaking through her window had started to feel wrong.

She was so much better than him. So much better than the thoughts that kept coming on stronger every time he was around her.

She was going to have a better life than the one that was set out in front of him.

Taking over his daddy’s business.

He almost rolled his eyes.

Like his life was normal. Like his daddy might brag to the other parents that his son would be the next successor in line.

How proud he’d be.

No.

Mack didn’t belong there beside her.

The princess and the pauper.

But right then, he didn’t care, and he snuggled her closer, let his fingers flutter through her silky hair, and begged his body to stop the way it wanted to react.

Izzy wasn’t like anyone else. Not one of those girls who let him touch them and touched him, too.

She was better than him.

He needed to remember that before he got lost and forgot who he was.

Who he was always gonna be.

“You’re my best friend, Maxon,” she whispered.

He leaned over and kissed her temple, inhaling her scent.

Wild jasmine and the sun.

She sighed. Touched his chest.

“Little Bird,” he whispered. “Let’s fly away.”

“Okay, my dragon, just tell me where you want to go.”

Twenty-Two

Mack

“You did it, Big Ben.” Barely managed to get the words out as I knelt in front of my son who had just wrapped up his appointment.

“Did you seeeee me?” he asked hopefully, smiling his crooked smile, and my heart that was already wrung out squeezed.

Squeezed so tight that it wrenched out this soggy feeling that I couldn’t fully process. This feeling that left me gutted and overjoyed.

Aching and full.

Like I was on the cusp of something bigger than I ever could have imagined and the weight of it was already too much.

“Yeah, buddy, I was watching every second. You did amazing. Just like I knew you would. Dillon and I were cheering for you the whole time.”

His grin widened, and the kid blushed, his bony shoulders going up to his ears. Like he was shy that I was giving him praise and hungry for the attention at the same time.

There went my heart again.

This bam, bam, bam that was making my head spin.

“You did so good, Ben-Ben! You’re going to be so strong. Stronger than any of us! I bet you aren’t even gonna need those crutches.” Dillon leaned on me, his arm around my neck where I knelt down, kid glued to my side.

I was pretty sure that was right where he’d always belonged.

“Watch out Dilllon, I’ll be fassster than you.” Teasing pride billowed from my boy.

Dillon’s eyes bugged out with the suggestion. “Well, maybe the same fast. I don’t think you should be too fast. How about that?”

It was the first time all hour I almost had the urge to laugh. This sibling rivalry that was all too sweet.

Relief coming on after the battering storm.

Izzy had warned that Benjamin’s session was going to be grueling.

I wasn’t close to being prepared for what that really meant.

For an hour, I’d had to sit and watch my son cry tears of pain and frustration.

Kid had been pushed to the limits.

Pushed to the extreme.

The whole thing had been about recording his baseline so they could set goals and parameters for the direction they were going to take his treatment. See where his strengths and his weaknesses were. Where the improvements could be found and where the focus needed to be.

I got it.

Understood it.

At least my brain did.

Thing was, my spirit had so not been on board with any of that shit.

Whole time, I’d sat there with my knee bouncing a million miles a minute.

Soul raging.

Banging at its confines.

Had to stop myself about fifteen different times from jumping out of my seat and demanding that they stop.

Never expected my heart to ache this way. In a crazy way that didn’t quite make sense.

No, it didn’t come close to coming from personal experience, but I thought it was safe to assume most parents wanted to protect their children. Shield them from pain.

Shelter them from suffering.

But this? It had been fucking brutal. Every second he’d been through slowly killing me.

What only confused it was the massive amount of pride that had soared in me every damn time he’d cheer in victory. When the therapist would shout encouragement that he was doing great.

Talk about not knowing how to stand under the upheaval. I had all but dropped to my knees when the therapist had given him a high-five and told him he was finished.

“We have about an hour before we need to meet your mom. I think a celebration is in order,” I said, glancing between the boys. “What do you think?”

“I love celebrations!” Dillon was all too quick to agree. “What kind of celebration are we going to have? A trip to Disneyworld?”

Tags: A.L. Jackson Confessions of the Heart Romance
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