Pieces of Us (Confessions of the Heart 3)

I reached up and brushed my fingers through his hair, cupped the side of his face. “This boy reminds me of you, Benjamin. He’s as strong as stone and as fierce as a lion, yet, sometimes he gets scared. He doesn’t yet understand that he is meant for great things.”

My tone dropped close to desperation on the last.

Overcome. Past and present and the future toiling in the middle of me. Spinning through the space.

Regret and faith.

Is that what my mother had seen in me? What she’d hoped for? Her little boy who’d run around claiming he was a dragon. Powerful when he had no will? I fought the crushing thought that she would be ashamed with the direction I’d gone then. Devastated that she would never know who I was trying to become.

Loss curled through me in a way I hadn’t allowed it for so long. Memories of her had been shoved aside. Buried. Too much for me to bear or face or acknowledge.

Now they flooded.

Wave after wave of grief and sorrow.

“You tttthink I’m meant for ggggreat things?” Benjamin’s weary voice hitched in hope. Expanded with courage.

Affection tightened my chest, so overwhelming that I was finding it hard to find air. Knowing what I was coming up on. What I had to give him.

The coward in me wanted to deny what I’d done. And the rest of me? The part that would do anything for Izzy and her boys? He pressed on.

“I think you’re meant for very great things. I think you were sent to show this world what it’s like to really hope.”

Hope.

It struck like a monsoon. A bluster of power and violence.

Terrifying and beautiful.

“Ccccan I read it?” he asked in his sweet voice.

That lump throbbed. “How about you keep it?”

He blinked at me. “But yyyyour mom ggggave it to you.”

I ran my thumb over his cheek, a fucking rock in my spirit when I thought about confessing it.

But it was time.

Long since passed time.

I prodded him to look up at me when I murmured, “And now, I’m giving it to my son.”

Time stopped. The past and the future colliding.

He blinked more, those eyes moving over me like he was looking at me for the first time. Or maybe he was realizing why we’d shared that connection. Why it never had felt like we were standing in front of a stranger. Spirits recognizing the other.

Still, he asked, “Whhhhat dddo yyyou mean?” His words lurched more than normal, his tongue getting tied, agitated and confused and somehow laced with a thread that said he’d known it all along.

“I’m your father, Benjamin. Your dad. Your mom and I—”

Sadness moved through his face. “I know where bbbbabies come frrrom. I’m not sttttupid. Peoppple might think I am, but I’m smmmart.”

“I know you’re smart, Benjamin. So smart.”

He studied me, though for the first time it was done with distrust. “I look just liiikkke you.” He shoved his fists into his eyes like he was angry for not recognizing it immediately. “Youuu . . . youuu left us.”

I watched as the rest of the reality of it came speeding in. The confirmation more than he could handle. Tears leaked out from behind his fists.

Agony gripped my conscience. Devastating. Sickening.

What was I supposed to do?

I wavered for a second, trying to remain calm, reminding myself that he needed space.

Time.

Could only take that for about two seconds, needing to reach him, to make him understand.

Carefully, I took him by the wrists, my hold light when I pried his fists from his eyes.

Big blue eyes blinked back at me. Swept in sorrow.

“Big Ben.”

His chin quivered. “Was it bbbecause of me? Bbbbecause I’m brrroken? Likkkke Dillon’s dad ddddid?”

I was pelted with a sucker-punch of shame.

“No. God no.”

Fiercely, he shook his head. “It’s my fffault my mmmom is always alone.”

Misery wound.

A blackout.

I could barely remain upright as I knelt in front of him.

On my knees. Begging for forgiveness.

I reached out and gripped him by the face, making sure he was looking at me when I said it. “No, Benjamin. No. You are perfect. You are the most perfect thing I’ve ever done. That and loving your mom.”

Awareness spun between us. A strike of energy. Different than what I shared with Izzy yet somehow the same.

Connected intrinsically.

Moisture clouded my eyes and clogged the words that started rolling off my tongue. “I loved your mom more than anything, Benjamin. More than anything. But I wasn’t a good guy then. I was still hopeless. I thought she was better off without me.”

Protecting her in the only way that I could. I’d known dragging her into my mess was dangerous. I’d had to cut her free.

“Butttt she neeeeeded you,” he whispered through his pain.

More pain that he didn’t deserve.

“I know. I know that now. I just didn’t understand it yet.”

“That means you ddddidn’t love us enough.”