Pieces of Us (Confessions of the Heart 3)

The question that remained.

My own fears this man had etched on me.

Scars that screamed.

“I don’t know, Maxon. I don’t know what to make of any of this. You’re movin’ so fast, and I’m not even sure what you want from me.”

He surged forward, body eclipsing me in shadow. “I want you. Want you more than anything I’ve ever wanted before. I want to tell Benjamin I’m his father. Ask Dillon if I can be his, too. Want a family.”

His throat bobbed with turmoil. “A family, Izzy Baby. Never had one before. And the only person I have wanted that with is you.”

It was crazy how he was speaking the exact words I’d spent years dreaming of hearing.

Verbatim.

The man a match to my soul.

But that’s what it’d been—a dream.

And my soul had spent thirteen years achin’. Achin’ with torment. Misery meted at his hand.

I struggled for a breath. Struggled to find reason. To make sense of the chaos of what I was feeling.

Words started pouring free.

“I loved you, Maxon. I loved you with every part of me. With every breath. With every heartbeat. I did since I was a little girl. And you shattered that in a way I don’t know can ever be repaired.”

I clutched my hands over my chest, voice cracking with the confession. “I’m terrified to believe in what you’d refused to believe in. Terrified of feeling all those things again. I don’t think you understand all that I’ve been through. What it feels like to be alone. Scared. But I did it . . . I did it because I had to. For my boys.”

I glanced at them and cringed when I found their attention locked on the shadow of us.

I prayed they couldn’t hear what I was saying, but I turned back to Maxon, anyway, opened up, spilling my guts all over the ground.

“I don’t know if I can afford to put myself in that position again. Not when their hearts are on the line, too. Not when I’m not sure that you fully understand what love is. And loving you when you don’t love me back? That’s the worst place I’ve ever been, and I can’t condemn myself to that kind of hell again.”

He looked like I’d struck him.

His body bowed.

Stricken.

I took the opportunity to jump into my car, fingers fumbling as I turned over the ignition, desperate to get away.

A sharp turn left.

Veering off this collision course.

Fleeing the flames.

Knowing I had no chance of outrunning them anyway.

Twenty-Four

Mack

Seventeen Years Old

Music thumped against the walls, and the entire house vibrated with a dark, greedy energy.

Voices were elevated, pitched to be heard above the din, a throbbing crowd that chased ecstasy.

Tossing back shots and lining their noses with whatever they’d managed to score.

Like they could stand a chance of flying away from this depressing reality.

The loudest of the crowd was by the sink in the kitchen, a ring of morons chanting, “Chug, chug, chug,” as they did keg stands, cheering in pride like they’d brought home a gold medal.

Sitting at the round table at the back, Mack kept his voice low, his focus turned toward Ian who sat sideways on his chair facing him, angling his ear Mack’s direction.

“A thousand bucks, man. Your only job is to drive those parts across state lines and not get pulled over.”

Mack tried to ignore the bitch who straddled him, wanting to get up close and personal with his dick, Clarissa thinking this was her damn business, too.

“Simple as that,” he added.

Simple.

Hatred spun through his being.

Last thing he wanted to do was bring Ian into his mess, this scraggly kid who’d shown up in town about a year before. Even though Ian was a year younger, the two of them had become instant friends.

He guessed the broken-down always gravitated toward the sleaze and shade.

Thing was, Ian had come to him.

Desperate.

Desperate for money. For food. For a goddamn break.

Wanting an in on what was clearly going down in Mack’s backyard.

Ian nodded. “That’s it? I don’t have to do anything else?”

Clarissa laughed. The sound of it curled through him like a disease. “You sure he’s got the balls to do it?” she cooed her insult, pressing her tits against his chest.

He had the distinct urge to toss her from his lap.

He ignored her, instead, ignored the tussle of unease that moved through his stomach and focused on his best friend not getting his ass nailed for grand theft. “That’s it. Drive slow but not too slow. Fucking pay attention and make sure you aren’t drawing attention to yourself. Drop it at the address and get your ass back home.”

Anxious laughter rumbled from Ian. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Good.”

Ian looked up at him. “Just . . . don’t tell my brother, man. Jace will have both of our asses if he catches wind of this. He’s been riding me and Joseph about keeping our noses clean.”