by Marie James
“I’ll make sure Alex gets to school and home from practice every day,” I tell her as I turn off the truck.
“Whose car is that?” Alex asks, not making a move to climb out.
“That’s—” I look over at Tin, deciding what the best approach is. I hate that I used to know everything about her, and now, even though many things are familiar, she’s still so much a stranger to me. “It’s a rental until I can get your mom’s car looked at.”
Tinley frowns, but she doesn’t open her mouth to argue.
The silver car parked in the driveway isn’t a rental, but I know she wouldn’t just readily accept it. I don’t think I’m getting away with an argument either when Alex jumps out of the truck and pointing out to her that it’s her favorite color. I know I’m in for it when she rolls her head on the seat and glares at me.
“It’s for him,” I specify before she can argue. “He wants you safe, not stranded someplace when the car won’t start. Yes, it helps you too, having something reliable, but it’s also for him.”
Her mouth snaps closed, but I still don’t feel like I’ve won.
“Come on, let’s get you two settled.”
The house has three bedrooms, something I know Tinley doesn’t miss. It’s also fully furnished, a short-term rental probably used more for people attending conferences or needing an escape from the grind of their daily lives.
Alex is excited about the huge television in the living room and the pool table on the enclosed back patio, but Tinley seems unable to take her eyes off the bed.
“You can take a nap. I’ll stick around long enough for you to get some sleep.”
Her eyes dart to mine.
Please ask me to stay.
“If I go to sleep now, I won’t sleep well tonight,” she says instead.
“Check this out!” Alex hollers from somewhere deeper in the house before she can tell me to leave. “Did you see this?”
I grin at his excitement, leaving Tinley standing in the bedroom she’s selected, grateful my son just gave me the opportunity to hang out with them even if it’s just for a little bit longer.
“Have you never played one of these before?” I ask as I join Alex in the game room. His eyes are wide as he looks down at the pinball machine.
“Do you have any quarters? They had one at that little pizza place, but some ass—some jerk broke it before many people got to play it.”
“Doesn’t require quarters, just pull the lever back.”
We spend thirty minutes in the game room, Alex entertained by the game before Tinley joins us. Her hair is wet from a shower, piled on her head.
I want my lips on her throat, my hands all over her body. My mouth between her legs again.
I just want her.
But we haven’t spoken about that night in the hotel. Other than comforting her at the funeral earlier, we haven’t touched. There’s no longing in her tired eyes when she looks at me. I don’t see the heat she couldn’t control that night, and it’s killing me because I want her with every fiber of my being.
“Do you have one of these at your house?” Alex asks, his eyes staying locked on the game as he tries to keep the little ball from falling out of play.
“No, but I could get one,” I answer simply.
Tinley clears her throat, and when I look at her, she’s glaring in my direction.
“You’ll have to get up a little earlier for school,” Tinley says instead of confronting me about building Alex’s hope about moving to St. Louis.
“It’s no problem, Mom. I’ll just go to bed earlier.”
Tinley and I both look at him.
“Who are you and what did you do with my son?” Alex just smiles as he continues to play. I think the grin makes Tinley calm down some, a little hint that the future isn’t as bleak as she’s let herself believe.
Chapter 24
Tinley
Sometimes there is a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.
The rainbow I’ve tried to celebrate since my mother’s death is that Ignacio was right. Cooper didn’t trash the house while we were at the rental property last week. The pot of gold is that he was gone when we returned to the house, leaving a note that demanded to let him know when the house sold.
Of course, the bracelet my dad gave me when I turned thirteen and my father’s wedding band Mom kept after he died are gone as well, but getting upset because my brother is awful will only give me a headache, and the tears I’ve cried since I came into her room are already doing a good enough job at making my temples throb.
I touch each item of hers, not wanting to get rid of anything because each item holds sentimental value to me.
The long, red socks she’d pull up to her knees over her lounge pants were her favorite despite the tiny hole in the toe of one.
The faded sweatshirt she wore in an effort not to have to turn on the heat has a coffee stain on one shoulder, but I just can’t seem to part with it either.
Three things take up space in the trash bag I carried in here after Alex left for school. Two being jeans I don’t think she’s worn in years, and one being the gray blanket she used to cover her legs during chemo. None of those carry good memories and were easily discarded.
Everything else?
I can pull images of her wearing, using, or planning to use it all.
How can I dispose of or donate any of it?
Not the shoes she wore to weed the flower beds in front of the house.
Not the book on her night table, a torn piece of the Sunday paper marking her spot on page one forty-two.
Not even the half empty bottle of water. It was one of the last things to touch her lips.
It’s been two weeks since the funeral and I’m no closer to being okay than I was the day I whispered my goodbyes, praying that she could hear me and that she knew how much she was loved before she went.
Hanging my head, I press curled fists into my eyes. They burn from tears and lack of sleep and the misery of watching Ignacio walk out of the house every night.
It made sense to come back to the house after realizing Cooper was gone, and I hate to admit I had gotten used to him being around during Mom’s final days, through the funeral, and the week we spent at that house.
Then we come back home and nothing.
At the rental we didn’t touch, kiss, or flirt, but his presence was calming. The second we get back here, he’s out the door faster than I can blink.
I’ve done my best not to imagine where he is when he’s not with us, but it’s nearly impossible not to imagine him with someone else, his mouth on another woman’s skin, his tongue in her—
“No,” I hiss into the room. “Fuck, no.”
“Tin?”
I spin my head around so fast, I grow dizzy, my eyes taking a long moment to refocus on Ignacio standing in the doorway to my mother’s room.
“You okay?”
God, how many times is he going to ask that question? The words have been on his lips on repeat for weeks.
Maybe if you stop lying to him, he’ll stop asking.
“I’m fine,” I snap, hating that he’s a witness to my internal struggle.
“What are you doing?” He looks around the room, no doubt judging the lack of things filling the trash bag at my side.
“Going through her things.”
“You don’t have to do this so soon.”
“Don’t I? Cooper is hell-bent on selling the house. I’m not going to be able to afford a three bedroom just to house her things. This has to be done.”
Besides, I promised her during one of our many conversation I didn’t want to have after she found out that the treatments were no longer working that I’d move on as quickly as possible. As quickly, thank God is relative, so I don’t feel like I’m breaking that promise I made to her just yet.
She assured me she was going to be happy because where she was going, she’d be welcomed back into the loving arms of my dad. She told me more than once that she was read
y. She missed him on top of being so tired and in constant pain. She didn’t want to leave us, but she didn’t see dying as a punishment.
Leaving Alex and I here alone feels like the worst thing she could’ve ever done, and that brings on wave after wave of guilt for my selfishness.
“What are you doing here?” I ask instead of arguing further.
“I came to—”
“I mean in the house. Do you think because we share a son that you have the right to just walk in and make yourself at home?”
If you didn’t leave every night, it would be different, but you do so…
“I knocked.” He hitches a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the front door. “You didn’t answer, and your car was out front. I got worried.”
“Worried?” I huff a humorless laugh. “I don’t need you to worry about me. The door was locked. Did you break it? Is that just one more thing I’m going to have to fix around here? Cooper already messed up the—”
“I didn’t break the door, Tin.” He frowns down at me.
I haven’t made a move to get up from the middle of my mother’s bedroom floor. Her clothes are scattered all around me, and he’s interrupting my pity party. I grow angrier by the second.
“A window then?” I snap. “How did you get in my house, and if you tell me you made yourself a key, know that I’m going to lose my shit.”
“I jimmied the lock,” he says with a shrug.
“You jimmi—” I hold my hand up. “You know what? It doesn’t even matter. Alex is at school, and I have shit to do. Lock it back up on your way out.”
His lips form a flat line as he takes a deep breath. It’s the same way my boss acted when I told her that I needed a little more time to get things in order. I hate people who don’t just say what they’re thinking, and despite biting my own tongue where this man is concerned, him doing it to me makes me want to scream.
“I have to go,” he says, his voice maddeningly calm.
“Bye.”
“No, Tin. I have to leave. Houston. Texas.”
My throat threatens to close.
What is it about me that makes me not good enough to stick around for?
My dad, my mom, him now for the second damn time.
“Okay,” I say, one simple word that feels like my entire life story wrapped in one.
Accepting instead of begging is always a better choice. I tried begging once with him and it didn’t work. I won’t do it again.
Honestly, I’m surprised he stuck around this long.
His absence is going to break Alex’s heart. It was the reason I begged him not to get involved in the first place. A child is a huge commitment, and he couldn’t love me long enough for me to tell him about our son. Why did I let myself start believing he had changed?
“I’ll be back,” he says, and I barely hold back a snort.
“Okay.”
“Tin, will you look at me?”
It takes a long moment, four deep breaths, before I’m able to look up at the man, and I hate the sympathy on his face. It feels as fake as the way he touched me that night at the hotel before making his position known.
“I’m coming back. I have a job that I can’t turn down. The guys at work need me.”
We need you.
“I understand.”
He sighs again before turning around and leaving. I wonder if it’ll be another thirteen years before he pops back into our lives just long enough to turn them upside down before ducking out again.
Chapter 25
Ignacio
“He’s been okay,” Mike Branford assures me while I wait for Alex to come to the office. “He’s a little quieter, but it’s worked in his favor. Being on a winning baseball team helps as well. Overall, school spirit is up.”
Tired lines mark his face when he smiles.
“That’s good to hear.” I cup the back of my neck, trying to rub away the tension building with knowing I have to head back to St. Louis, but nothing seems to help. “I have to go back to work for a while, and I’m hoping you can still keep an eye on him.”
I won’t go into detail much about Alex’s homelife, but Mike seems to understand that Alex is still in need of a little extra attention.
“I’ll keep a look out,” he agrees. “Do you know how long you’ll be gone?”
“You’re leaving?”
The question comes from behind me, and I want to call Deacon and quit my job on the spot when I turn around to see Alex’s sad face.
I guess I can count it as a win that he isn’t glaring at me like his mother did an hour ago. She doesn’t believe I’ll come back. She didn’t have to say the words. The accusation was written all over her pretty face.
“You guys can use my office to chat,” Mike says before stepping out of the way.
Alex drags his feet, taking his sweet time to go inside, his unhappiness with the news in each slow shuffle of his feet.
I grin at the sight of the new shoes I bought him. I don’t know when he caved and started wearing them, and that’s just evidence that I haven’t been as attentive to him as I should’ve been lately.
“You’re leaving?” There’s more anger in his voice with the repeat of his question.
“I have to go to work for a while,” I tell him as I close us into the principal’s office.
“How long?” Long, stubborn arms cross over his chest, his mouth set in an obstinate scowl.
“A week, maybe two?”
“So not forever?”
“What?” I look at him, like truly look at my son. “No. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. I told you I’m not going away.”
“Just for work?”
“That’s it. I’m the only one on the team that’s multilingual. They won’t be able to clear the case without me.”
“Maybe,” he begins, looking down and digging the toe of his shoes into the worn industrial carpet at his feet. “Maybe Mom will let me go with you?”
“I’m headed to St. Louis, but then we’re flying out to a different country.”
It sucks not being able to discuss details with him. It makes me feel like I’m keeping secrets rather than upholding confidentiality rules set in my contract with Blackbridge.
“Like Germany or Japan?”
He looks up, excitement replacing the disappointment on his young face.
“I need you to stay here and take care of your mother. She needs you.”
He mulls this over but doesn’t speak.
“Plus, you have school, and your game against North Lake is Saturday. The team needs you.”
“But you won’t be there.”
I open my mouth to tell him I’ll try to make it, but I know that’s going to be impossible with the job lined up.
“Not that one, but hopefully I’ll make it to the tournament after. You guys are going to blow that out of the water, and I don’t want to miss it.”
“Yeah. We’re gonna kill it.”
“That means you have to stay out of trouble.” I give him a pointed look. “No fights or problems at school, no hanging out with kids that will get you in trouble. Your mom needs you.”
“I won’t get into any trouble,” he assures me.
I want to wrap my arms around him for a hug, but I don’t know if we’re there yet.
“Anything we need to talk about before I head to the airport?”
He shakes his head. “Will you call me?”
“I will.” My heart grows a little with his request. “Alright, buddy. I gotta catch my plane.”
I look him over one last time, committing him to memory, knowing I’m going to start missing him before I even board my flight, before turning around to leave the office.
“Hey, Dad?” I turn to look at him, my heart caught in my throat, because he’s never called me that before. “Be safe, okay?”
“I w-will.” The last word lodges in my throat, and I take a chance, walking up to him and wrapping my arms around him.
I’m the happiest m
an on the planet when he squeezes me back.
***
“I wouldn’t have asked if we didn’t need you,” Deacon says as we walk toward the IT office. “I looked for a third-party translator but Gallen was the only one available and—”
“That guys a complete dick,” I mutter.
“Exactly. I swore I’d never use him again, but I want you to know I legitimately considered it before calling you. I know you’re working through a lot of shit, and it was a hard call to make.”
“It’s fine, but I’d like to get started so I can get back.”
Would now be a good time to have the conversation about severing my ties to the company?
Leaving Alex and Tinley back in Texas isn’t something I can deal with doing over and over and over. Even if it’s for a week or so at a time while I work, they just aren’t in a place where I feel like they’re both safe and emotionally ready to be alone.
And then I wonder if I’m being an asshole by thinking she needs my help. I settle on the fact that she deserves my help.
“We’re looking at maybe a week, ten days?” Deacon says as he gives a warning knock on Wren’s closed office door.
“We knock now?” I ask with a smile, already hearing the damn bird squawking on the other side.
“Unless you want to use bleach on your eyes, I’d suggest it,” he mutters.
“You could fire him or write him up for inappropriate behavior at work. He shouldn’t be in there looking at porn and stroking his dick.”
“It’s more like he’s bossing Whitney around on a live feed. Last week, I forgot to knock, and I can tell you seeing what I saw made me want to go to church.”
“Are you telling him about the maid costume or the Pokémon butt plug?”
I huff out a laugh at Quinten as he walks up and slaps me on the back.
“Hey, man. Glad you’re back.”
I give him a quick nod.
“Pokémon?” I ask, not a hundred percent sure I really want to know.
“I’ll never see Pikachu the same again,” Deacon mutters before turning the doorknob.
“Your choice, babe, but you know how I’ll respond either way.”
“Oh, God!” I hear Whitney hiss before the screen of one of Wren’s computers goes black.