by McLean, Jay
His eyes are wide when he sees me, almost as surprised as I am. “Mia.” It’s a name. A question. “What are you—”
“Who is it, Mama?” Benny calls out, and before I can stop him, he’s lifting my arm, standing between my leg and doorframe.
I don’t look away from Mr. Preston, because—as self-destructive as it is—I don’t want to miss his face when he sees Benny for the first time. His mouth parts and he takes a step back, as if he’s seeing a ghost, and I know that look.
I’ve seen it.
In my dreams…
In my conscience.
I don’t remember it, not physically.
But I know…
I know I’ve seen it before.
I’ve lived it.
Chapter Seventy-Six
Leo
Mia never gave me a warning. Not even a text message to say that I was about to walk into the danger zone. Dad’s sitting on the floor of my living with Benny beside him, one of the books I’d gotten Benny last week in Dad’s hands. All eyes are on mine when I stand at the doorway, my hand still gripping the handle as if it’s a sign that I shouldn’t go any farther, that I should turn around. Run.
“I got snacks,” I mumble because I don’t know what else to say.
Dad won’t take his eyes off me. He knows. I can already see it, the disappointment mixed with concern and a whole lot of what the fuck plastered on his face.
“Your dad’s here!” Benny announces, like I don’t already know. I force a smile as I watch him walk toward me, his arms out, reaching for the paper bag I’m strangling. Handing it to him, I look over at Mia standing on the other side of the kitchen counter, her eyes void of emotion.
After clearing my throat, I look at Dad. “What are you doing here?” I step inside, letting the door close behind me. There’s no accusation in my tone, no malice. I try to keep my cool, but I don’t know what all has been said in the time I’ve been gone, and going by Mia’s lack of reaction, something is wrong.
“You haven’t been home as much as we expected, so I thought I’d just pop in and see how you were doing.”
“Right.” I nod. “Because a phone call wouldn’t have been enough?”
“Leo.” Mia’s single word is barely a whisper, and when I look up at her, she shakes her head, just once, her eyelids heavy.
Dad sighs. “I was in town at a supplier conference,” he explains, his jaw tight. “I thought I’d take my son out for lunch.”
“But we’re going to the rock museum,” Benny says, standing beside me. He half-hides behind my leg, like he did with Mia the first time I met him.
I settle a hand on his shoulder, try to ease his fears. “We’re still going to the museum,” I assure. “Don’t worry.”
He tugs on my arm, and I drop down so he can whisper in my ear. “Can your dad come with us?” He says it loud enough for everyone to hear, because Dad reacts by tilting his head, and Mia—she sucks in a breath, her eyes meeting mine before nodding, her smile almost painful.
I look over at Dad. “Do you want to come with us?”
Dad smiles at Benny. “I would love to, Benny. Thank you for the invite.”
Mia
Mr. Preston takes his truck, saying he’ll meet us at the museum. I catch Leo alone just long enough to inform him that his dad didn’t mention anything to Benny. Leo merely shrugged, but I could tell it was nagging at him. How could it not? I’m sure this isn’t the way he pictured his dad finding out. Benny has no clue what’s happening, and me—I can’t get Mr. Preston’s initial reaction out of my head.
The museum is tiny. It’s basically an old house that’s been transformed, and the only way we knew that we were at the right place was the giant boulders out front. In any other circumstance, it would take less than fifteen minutes to peruse all the displays, but Benny—being Benny—can’t get enough. He grasps onto Leo’s hand, stopping at every rock, asking Leo to read, aloud, what the signs say about each one.
About a half-hour into it, Mr. Preston excuses himself to make a call, and we keep going. I wait a few minutes before telling Leo that I need to find the restroom. Truthfully, I want to find his dad, because I feel like I need to talk to him, and I don’t want to do it with Benny or Leo around. I search the interior of the building, but he isn’t anywhere I can see. And so I go outside, find him on a bench just outside the entrance. He isn’t on his phone. His back is turned, his shoulders slumped, elbows resting on his knees. Slowly, cautiously, I make my way over. “Mr. Preston?”
I hear his loud intake of breath as his spine straightens. “Mia,” he says, but he doesn’t turn to me.
Rounding the bench, I sit down beside him, try to find the right words to start. I don’t know what to say. I never thought I’d be the one in this situation. Luckily, or maybe not, he speaks first. “How long has he known?”
“Leo?”
He faces me, eyes penetrating, but he doesn’t reply.
I lower my gaze. “A couple of weeks after your granddaughter’s birthday party.”
He nods, his mind working to piece the puzzle together. “So, you didn’t tell him before then?”
I shake my head, try to look at him, but the pain in his eyes has me dropping mine again.
“Why not?” he asks, tone flat.
Heat burns behind my eyes. “For a lot of reasons.”
He sniffs once.
“I just…” I face forward, grip the edge of the seat, and try to push through my nerves. “I wanted to say I’m sorry.”
“For not telling him?”
“And you,” I admit. I clear the knot in my throat, adding, “When you saw Benny today, it was, like, this… this…” This what? Jolt of a memory? That wouldn’t make sense to anyone but me. “I was just a year younger than Benny when my mom left me with my grandpa. I don’t remember it, but he’d described it often—that feeling of seeing me for the first time since I was a newborn, and I could always picture it in my head, and you—you had that same look. And I’m sorry.” I wipe at my tears and try to catch my breath. “I’m sorry that I kept him from you because if you felt even an ounce of what I know Papa felt…” I trail off, not knowing what more to say, what more I can add to show how seeing his reaction pains me.
Mr. Preston doesn’t respond for a long time. When he does, his words surprise me. “Of all my boys, I never really had to worry about Leo. Sure, when he was younger, we had some issues, but he’s grown into a fine man.” He’s talking like he has to worry now. Like I’ve ruined his son for eternity. “I don’t recall a time when he’s ever lied to me,” he says. “But for the past five months, he’s been lying. Did you ask him to lie? To not tell us about your son?”
I nod because it’s true. I did.
After clearing his throat, he says, voice even, “My family’s been through a lot the past few years, Mia, and maybe you’re unaware of that. My boys—they’ve gotten closer than ever—and they’ve needed Leo. Especially Logan. Logan’s needed him to come home, and he hasn’t, and he’s been lying about why. So now they’re questioning his loyalty to the family... and that’s why I’m here. Because I needed to talk to Leo about it, but… I never expected to walk in on what I did today.”
I don’t reply, my mind too busy alerting me with visions of barn doors and toilet bowls and two fingers down my throat because I am not enough.
Me. My son. We’re not reason enough for Leo to betray his family the way he has.
“Are you ashamed of your son, Mia?”
I gasp. “God, no. Never. That’s not—”
“I asked your mother the same thing when I found out she had a daughter.”
Every single negative emotion crawls through my veins, clawing at my insides for a way out of my body.
My dirty, filthy, vile body.
“That’s not fair,” I grind out. “You don’t know me or my son.”
“That’s the way you wanted it, right?”
Fat, ugly tears fall from my lashes, and my lungs shrink, cl
osing off my airways. I keep it together. Just.
“That little boy is my grandson, and I didn’t even know about him.” For the first time since he started speaking, I can hear genuine hurt replace his accusatory tone. “He has an aunt and uncles and a little cousin he doesn’t know about, right? I heard you call him Leo rather than his dad, so I assume he doesn’t know.”
I nod. “We’re waiting to tell him until…” Every word I speak seems useless, pathetic when it comes from me.
“Until what?”
I look at the man beside me. Really, truly look at him. And I no longer see my grandpa. I see Benny’s. “Until I’m ready.” I choke on the response.
“Well, when is that going to be? Another four years?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know,” I tell him truthfully.
Mr. Preston’s chest rises with his inhale, and he looks from me to the parking lot. The silence stretches between us, neither saying a word. He breaks the quiet, shifting just enough to make the bench beneath us creak under his weight. “It’s going to be Halloween in two weeks.” I watch as he stands to full height, my heart thumping in my ribs, in my eardrums, making it hard to hear what he says next. “I expect to see you and my grandson there.” He sniffs, rubbing at his red, raw eyes—eyes filled with emotions too confusing to decipher. “Tell Leo he needs to come home next week and tell his siblings. Benny doesn’t need to know Leo’s his father, but Leo’s siblings have a right to know they have a nephew.” He pauses a beat. “I’ll see you in two weeks,” he says, and then he’s turning on his heels and walking toward his truck.
I don’t know how long I sit there, waiting for the tears to stop, for the ugliness to fade. Just as I’m about to get up, I hear, “Mama!”
Turning, I see Leo and Benny walking toward me. Benny’s smiling from ear-to-ear, and Leo’s watching me, his eyes thinned. “You okay?” he mouths, and I nod.
I’m not okay.
But I will be.
Because the little boy stopping in front of me, his eyes as bright as the constant smile he carries, is
My reason.
My purpose.
My Everything.
Chapter Seventy-Seven
Leo
“Okay, are you all tucked in?” Mia asks.
Benny rolls his eyes—a move he definitely gets from his mother. “Yes, Mama.”
“You got everything you need?” Mia looks around the tent. “Your water bottle’s on the table, and your flashlight is right beside your head.”
“Mama! No girls allowed,” Benny says through a giggle.
“Yeah, little mama,” I say, squeezing her thigh from my spot in my sleeping bag. “No girls!” I poke out my tongue when she glares at me. “I’m right here,” I laugh out. “He’ll be fine. You’re literally in the next room.”
She quickly turns to Benny, knocking his full water bottle off the table and dropping it right in my goddamn eye socket. “Motherf—” I spit, cutting off when Mia gasps. I press the heel of my palm to my eye, attempting to ease the pain.
“Mother what?” Benny asks, sitting up to look between Mia and me.
“Nothing,” Mia’s quick to respond, her eyes thinned, shooting daggers at me.
“Mother what?” Benny asks again.
“Nothing,” I say, opening my eye to nothing but black spots. “Dang, that hurt.”
Mia picks up the water bottle and places it back on the table. “I’m sure it didn’t hurt that much,” Mia teases.
I grab her waist and pull her on top of me, her back to my chest, my fingers quick to pinch at her sides, making her squeal. “Get off!” She manages to get out between fits of laughter.
“Tickle her until she wees!” Benny giggles, his little fist raised in the air, egging me on.
“Whatever you say, bud,” I mumble, trying to hold down Mia’s arms so she doesn’t junk-shot me like she did the last time.
“Ohhh! I know what you were going to say!” Benny shouts. “Motherrrr….” He pauses, giving us the infamous Cheeky Benny side-eye. I stop tickling Mia instantly, and we both turn to Benny, waiting, ready to stop him. He smiles to one side, right before he says, “Mother lover.”
Mia and I let out simultaneous exhales of relief.
“Because you love Mama, right?”
Mia opens her mouth to speak, but I sit up, taking her with me, basically forcing her to sit on my lap. I wrap my arms around her waist and kiss her cheek. Then I lock my eyes on Benny. “I do,” I tell him. “Very much.” Mia turns her head toward me, but I keep my gaze on our son. “Is that okay with you—that I love your mama?”
Benny nods, flopping back down to a lying position. “Yep,” he says, grabbing the flashlight. He flicks it on, then points it to the roof of the tent. “You love Mama. I love you.”
Everything inside me stops at his words, and I’m floating, soaring, so high, high, high. And then I come down from my high and push Mia off my lap. I crawl over to Benny and hug him harder than I’ve ever hugged him before. Behind me, Mia laughs, says something about getting in the shower. “Too tight,” Benny chokes out, and I release him, just enough to rear back and kiss his little cheeks, again and again. “I love you so much, Benny.” Dammit, why am I on the verge of tears? For someone who claims to be the strongest man in this boy’s world, I’m sure acting like a little bitch.
“I know you do,” Benny says.
“How do you know?”
He shrugs. “Because you show me you do,” he responds, and I realize now that there’s nothing at all complicated about love in the eyes of a four-year-old.
You know someone loves you because they show you they do.
It’s that simple.
I don’t go back to my sleeping bag. I sit beside my son and watch as his eyes slowly fight the fatigue until his dark lashes settle across his cheeks. I wait until his little hand gripping any number of rocks loosens its grip, and when his breaths even and his lips move with the motion of his inhales and exhales, I get out of the tent and search for Mia.
She’s standing in front of the bathroom mirror in nothing but a towel. At any other time, I’d have ripped the towel off her, lifted her onto the counter and spread her legs so I could devour her. Now though, I just watch her through the mirror, a reminder to myself of how lucky I am. She’s so fucking beautiful it almost hurts to look at her, and she gave me Benny—our son—the greatest gift in the world. “Have you stopped smiling?” she asks, her eyes on mine through the mirror.
Reaching up, I massage the muscles in my cheeks, aching from the force of my grin. “Not even for a second.” I step forward, settle my hands on her hips from behind, and watch her apply some kind of face cream. “I meant what I said, you know? That I love you?”
She turns in my arms, splotches of white dotted all over her face. I run the pad of my thumbs across each one, spreading the cream across her flesh. She stays quiet as I do this, her hands gripping my forearms. When I’m done, she leans up, presses her lips to mine. “You know that I love you, too?” Her voice wavers as she says it, and when I search her eyes—it’s like a slow torture.
I don’t know how long I spend watching them fill with tears, but with every second that passes, my insecurities grow stronger and stronger. “Is that a bad thing? That we love each other?”
My palms are still cupping her face, so they move with her head shake. “No, it’s not that.”
I drop my hands. “Did my dad say something to you today?”
Her lips thin to a line, and I take a step back, allowing myself room to breathe. I don’t want to go from Benny telling me he loves me to whatever is about to happen. “Can we not do this tonight, Mia?” I grasp at my hair, frustrated. “I just... as pathetic and childish as it is, I just don’t want to.”
“Leo,” Mia sighs, tugging on my T-shirt to bring me closer. She attempts to sit on the counter, but she’s too little and weak, so I grasp her waist and hoist her up. She offers me a shy smile—the one I’m pretty sure I fell in love with
before I even knew what love was. After a quick kiss, she settles her arms on my shoulders and spreads her legs for me to step between them. It’s not a sensual move; it’s… intimate… and right. It feels so fucking right—this entire day and night. Spending time with Benny outside of the farm, having them here with me, just us. Having my son tell me he loves me and then saying the same thing to my... my Mia. For the first time, I feel like a family, and I want this. Mia once told me that when she discovered she was pregnant, she was at a point in her life where she never knew who she was or what she wanted, but she wanted him. She needed him. And I want this. Them. I need them.
Mia’s eyes are downcast as she plays with the hem of my shirt. Her single heartbreaking sniff—one she uses to fight back her emotions—has me cupping her jaw, forcing her to look up at me. I suck in a breath and hold it, waiting for her to speak. “You missed out on four years of Benny’s life because I kept things from you, believing it was for the best, but it wasn’t.”
I nod. It’s all I can do.
“So I’m not going to do that anymore, Leo.”
My throat closes in, blocking my lungs from their life source.
“I spoke to your dad today…” Then she proceeds to tell me everything—every word Dad said, every accusation she felt, every bit of heartbreaking anguish that tore through her.
I stand, and I listen, and I hold her through her cries.
I don’t say a word. But I do make a promise—one brought on from the mind a four-year-old. I promise to do something I failed to do too many times before when it came to Mia. I’m going to show her that I love her. And it really will be that simple.
Chapter Seventy-Eight
Leo
After Mia finished telling me about her conversation with my dad, I told her I’d take care of it—that there was nothing she needed to worry about. And she didn’t. This was on me. And then I smiled, and I kissed away her tears, and I carried on with the rest of the night trying to make her laugh, make her forget.