Truth Be Told (Blackbridge Security Book 4)

by Marie James

  I spend the entire practice leaning on the fence watching the young man I helped create, and to say the least, I’m in awe. He bats, runs, and cheers on his team like a completely different person from the one I saw outside of that store days ago. Here, he can be himself. Here, he doesn’t have to worry about extra cash or fighting for clout. His reputation on the diamond is built through his hard work and determination. The kids here respect him for that alone, not the power he has been granted through working for Cedric. This is something I can work with. This gives me more hope than I’ve had since seeing him in that parking lot with Tinley and realizing I’ve missed his entire life up to this point.

  When practice is over, Alex walks right past me without even looking in my direction, and although it hurts, I know exactly where he’s coming from. If I were in his situation instead of the horror of knowing my father was dead after killing my mother, I’d act the same damn way. If I made it that long without a dad, I sure as hell wouldn’t need one now.

  But I’ll be right back here tomorrow and the next day and then next until he’s ready to look in my direction.

  Chapter 12

  Tinley

  “How was practice?” I ask as Alex climbs in the car.

  He ignores me, and although it crushes another little piece inside of me, I’m just happy he’s actually here, sweat still clinging to his skin from practicing hard instead of gone, skipping another practice because he knows he won’t be able to play in this week’s game.

  I don’t ask him about Ignacio even though his expensive truck stands out like a sore thumb in the school parking lot. Did they talk? Have they spent time together since that text after Alex first heard about his paternity? I know Alex came home with more information on the man than I’ve ever been privileged to, but he’s never mentioned that they sat down and discussed anything since.

  “I want you to tell that man to stay away from me,” he says as we pull up outside of the house, the first words he’s spoken to me since he left me sitting in the living room days ago.

  The silent treatment from him isn’t a new thing, but it never lasts this long.

  “I’ll speak with him,” I assure him, but I don’t say that his dad being around might be a good thing.

  I watch Alex go inside after slamming the car door and ponder what my next step should be.

  Tinley Holland, the woman who fell head over heels for the bad boy over fifteen years ago, doesn’t deserve to know a single thing about Ignacio Torres’s life. Her lies alone don’t give her that right, but as Alex’s mother, I need to know what kind of man his father is before I start planting seeds that spending time with him wouldn’t be all that bad.

  Alex told me good things about his dad that he learned, but that doesn’t mean they’re all true or accurate. Kids see what they want to see. They use bits and pieces of information as ammunition in arguments, not taking into account all the bad things that they may have heard. If it doesn’t suit them, it doesn’t exist.

  Despite wanting to stay as far away as possible, I have to get to know the man that is insistent on spending time with my son. I fire off a text to Alex, reminding him that he’s still grounded and to stay home before heading across town.

  Ignacio’s truck isn’t in the driveway or parked in the street, but I still climb out of the car and head to the front door anyway, praying his crotchety old grandfather isn’t here either.

  My knock goes unanswered, and I think I’ve dodged a bullet for just a little longer, but as I turn away from the door, I notice him pulling into the drive.

  Of course, he takes his sweet ass time gathering his things and climbing out. His face is set in a scowl as he approaches, and he doesn’t say a word as he steps past me to unlock the front door.

  “Are you coming in or staying out there?” he calls from inside the house.

  Against my better judgment, I head inside, looking around the room for his grandfather.

  “Is Mateo around?” I ask in a low voice because the last thing I need to do is alert the bastard that I’m here.

  If my dad hated Ignacio, Mateo Costa despised me. I think it had more to do with not wanting his grandson to have even a pinch of happiness than me personally.

  “Yeah,” Ignacio says, pointing across the room to a plain wooden box.

  My eyes flash back to him. “He died? When?”

  “I’m here because he had a stroke. The asshole stuck around for several days after.”

  “Did you have a service? An obituary?” I’m certain Mom would’ve mentioned the old man dying if it had been in the newspaper.

  “Nope.” Ignacio drops his things on the side table before looking back in my direction. “He didn’t deserve any of that shit.”

  As horrible as it sounds, I have to agree with him. He never went into detail about his homelife, but from what I saw and experienced the two times I came over here, I know things were pretty bad.

  “Why are you here?” he asks as he pulls a Styrofoam container from the plastic bag he carried inside the house. The spicy scent of Thai fills the air, and a small smile forms on my lips. I’d bet money it’s red curry beef.

  “I want to get to know you better.”

  He huffs a humorless laugh, and my hackles immediately go up.

  “If you’re going to be around Alex, I need to make sure you’re a good influence,” I hiss, already annoyed with his dismissive attitude.

  His jaw flexes, eyes still focused on the table. The man hates me so much, he can’t even be bothered with giving me his full attention while we’re having a conversation. It’s clear that he’s no longer the man I knew, much like I’m no longer that naïve girl who held my breath when he spoke because I was afraid I’d miss something. Before, he couldn’t take his eyes off of me. Before, he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. Before, I was the center of his world, and now I’m merely the woman who kept an indefensible secret from him.

  “You know me, Tinley.” Finally, his dark eyes find mine, and I’m trapped in his glare. The tiny, devious smirk playing on his lips takes me back to a time when I coveted that look from him. That look held so much promise back then, but I know now it was just another manipulation. “You know so many things about me.”

  My body heats as my throat works on a rough swallow. I’m finding it impossible to reconcile the present with the past.

  His eyes follow the action of my swallow, that stupid grin growing even more. He’s well aware that he still affects me after all this time, and I want to pull my heart from my chest and hide it in my pocket so he can’t hurt it again.

  My real life never included you. Those words have played over and over in my head since he spoke them that night he ripped me in two. They come rushing back again as if the malicious words have slipped from his lips once again.

  “This isn’t going to work.” I spin around and head right back out the front door.

  “Tinley,” he snaps, the boom of his voice making my feet obey even though I know escaping this house is what’s best for all involved. “Tell me what you came here to say.”

  When I get the nerve to turn back around, he’s sitting at the table with the lid popped open on his food container, fork already mixing the food around. It’s as if the moment never happened, and I don’t know whether I should be happy or question my sanity.

  “Alex said you were in the Army.” He nods in confirmation as he chews. “Were you honorably discharged?”

  “I was,” he answers after swallowing. “I now work for a man named Deacon Black. He owns Blackbridge Security. Our home base is in St. Louis, but my work takes me all over the world.”

  I envy him in this moment, his ability to see the world. The only time I’ve ever been out of the state was a day trip to the casino in Oklahoma, and I’m pretty sure that’s less than fifteen miles across the Texas border. Being a young, single mother doesn’t afford much time for travel and experiencing things outside of parenting. I could hate him for his adventures, but my conscienc
e reminds me that he wasn’t around because of my choices, not his own.

  “Are you married?”

  He looks up from his food. “Do you think that would stop me from fucking you if you offered?”

  My cheeks heat as my eyes dart away. “I would hope you aren’t the type of man that would cheat on your spouse.”

  “I don’t have a wife or a husband or a fiancée. I’m single. I don’t do relationships. I had one that went bad, and it left a bad taste in my mouth.”

  Is it wrong to hope that he’s talking about me, that maybe I had the power to ruin love for him for all others? I know it’s foolish to think this man hasn’t been in a relationship since we were together, but the thought of him loving—

  I shake my head. I’m not here for any of that shit.

  “Any other kids?”

  “No.”

  “How long do you have before you have to go back to St. Louis?”

  “Trying to get rid of me already?”

  More like wondering how long I have before you prove me right and break my son’s heart.

  I don’t respond, forcing him to speak again.

  “As long as it takes.”

  “As long as what takes?”

  “You’re asking all these questions. Does that mean it’s only fair for me to do the same?”

  “I’m an open book,” I respond as if the biggest secret of my life isn’t between us.

  “So?”

  “So what?” If he wants to know, he’s going to have to ask. I’m not offering up details because letting him back into my life in any other capacity than what pertains to Alex would be detrimental to my heart. Just being in the same room with him gives him power I’ve told myself I’d never hand over to another man.

  “Married? Other kids?”

  “No.”

  “Dating anyone?”

  I narrow my eyes at him, knowing he had a vindictive streak years ago and having no doubt in my mind that he’d sabotage my life in retaliation for the lies I’ve told.

  “I need to know the woman who is around my son,” he tosses back at me, those words spoken from my own lips now making my stomach turn sour.

  “I don’t have time to date. Raising a preteen and working all the time to support him doesn’t leave much room for things like men, travel, and having the time of my life.”

  “You chose those struggles,” he reminds me. “I would’ve been around if I’d known. I would’ve helped raise and support our son. You didn’t have to do it alone.”

  My jaw flexes, the need to run warring with the desire to shake the hell out of him.

  “Excuse me if not sticking around for the guy who told me he loved me so he could use me for sex wasn’t high on my priority list.”

  His fork hovering over his dinner falls from his fingers, but he doesn’t argue my statement.

  “We’re getting off track,” I mutter, hating the scrutiny of his glare. “I’m here to talk about Alex and what’s best for him.”

  “And I’m sure you think you know what’s best?”

  His words hit me like a slap to the face. It’s another dig at my choices and his contempt of them.

  “I can’t change the past, and if we can’t just agree to move forward, then this isn’t going to work.”

  “You make it sound like you’re allowing me to be in his life, but understand, Tinley, not being a part of his life isn’t an option. I should’ve been around from day one.”

  I open my mouth to snap at him, to ask him if he honestly thinks he would’ve stuck around had he known, but that’s just another branch of the argument that will get us nowhere.

  “He doesn’t want you around,” I say instead.

  “I’m going—”

  Surprisingly, he stops when I hold my hand up to silence him.

  “He’s twelve. He doesn’t know what’s best, but just showing up and expecting him to welcome you in his life isn’t going to happen. He’s had a hard time since Dad died. I haven’t dated. He hasn’t had to share me with—”

  “This isn’t about sharing you, Tinley. I don’t need a relationship with you or your time to get to know him.”

  That hurts more than it probably should.

  “I’ll do what it takes to make that boy understand he never has to worry about me leaving.”

  You left me. You’ll do the same to him when things get tough.

  “I’ll put in the time and effort. Whatever is required for him to trust me.”

  “He needs positive influences in his life.” I hate that Mr. Branford’s words are coming out of my mouth, especially since I shot them down when they were spoken to me. “But you have to stick around. I don’t want him getting used to you only for you to disappear when you get bored.”

  Like you did with me. There are so many other women out there—

  God, I’d sell my soul to never have to replay that night with him again.

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  I nod, and when he doesn’t try to stop me when I turn to leave this time, it manages to kill another tiny part of me. I get the feeling there won’t be anything left of me before this is all said and done.

  Chapter 13

  Ignacio

  “Everyone is going to run laps if we keep making that mistake!” Coach Brian Raney yells as the outfielder misses another catch.

  I’ve been coming to afternoon practices for the last week, each time trying to talk to Alex but accepting when he just walks past me on the way to Tinley’s car.

  Each day I ask him if he wants to go grab something to eat, and each day he just sneers at me as he shuffles past. Although I’m still livid about being put in the position to have to get to know my son at twelve, I extended an olive branch and messaged Tinley a couple days ago offering to take him home every day after practice, but she shot me down. I don’t know if that is just another way for her to control the narrative or if Alex mentioned not wanting to be alone with me.

  My heart aches to know everything about him, but he’s made it impossible so far.

  “If everyone hustled like Holland does, we wouldn’t have lost last week’s game!” Coach yells again. “I need to see some fire, guys!”

  I grin as Alex sneers. Because of his suspension from school, Alex didn’t even get to play last week’s game. Not only was he benched, but Raney didn’t even let him attend the game. Alex and Tinley came to watch his team play however, sitting in the bleachers as far away from me as possible. I tried not to take it as a personal affront, but it was hard.

  Coach means well, but singling one person on the team out for being awesome while insulting everyone else doesn’t usually go over well later in the locker room or when there aren’t adults around to referee, especially not with the kids on this team who battle with injustices every day of their lives.

  “Come on, Jones!” Alex cheers as his peer takes his spot at the plate. “Show us what you can do!”

  His teammate grins before focusing on the pitcher. Most of these practices are brutal, Coach expecting the most out of them while the players treat each other like rivals. They’re struggling with cohesion—something I know is of utmost importance—because they’ve learned to only look out for number one. Too many struggles and disappointments make it hard for these kids to depend on anyone else in their lives but themselves.

  I know the mechanics of baseball, but I’ve discovered in my spare time watching videos and reading things online in an attempt to understand the sport my son loves that there’s more to it than hitting the ball and running the bases. There’s so much strategy involved, it’s overwhelming.

  Practice continues with Coach yelling his disappointments with praise sprinkled in, and I notice the kids striving for his simple accolades, working hard to please him. I imagine they don’t have many people in their lives who take the time to tell them when they’ve done something good. Life is like that in many capacities. Most people tend to exert energy expressing disappointment when things are bad, having
the expectation that good things are supposed to happen regardless of the effort given.

  When practice is over, I push away from the fence, nodding at Coach Raney when he dips his head in my direction. As always, Alex helps him pick up the extra bats and balls. I don’t know if my son is just helpful, being generous with his time in an effort to get back in Coach’s good graces after getting into so much trouble at school, or if he’s strategically trying to avoid me by busying himself with other tasks.

  I wait, just like I do each day, by the gate leading off the field. Only today, something changes. Instead of Alex’s mouth forming a flat line, there’s a small smile on his face. He had a great practice, and by the end, many of the other players were finally in synch.

  “Great practice,” I tell him as he nears.

  “We’re getting there,” he mutters, his attitude still in place.

  I’m just grateful he’s speaking to me, but I risk ruining it with my daily offer. “Wanna grab something to eat?”

  “Sure,” he says with a nonchalant shrug as if he didn’t just make my entire year.

  “Awesome. Let’s let your mom know what we’re doing.”

  I stay back as he approaches the driver’s side door of Tinley’s car, wondering just how much she’s working and how hard things are at home when she jolts at his knock on the window. The woman nodded off in the parking lot while waiting for him.

  I can’t hear what he says to her, but I keep a passive look on my face when she looks over his shoulder to meet my eyes. I’m ecstatic, like wanting to do a happy dance in the middle of the lot euphoric, but I can’t seem to let go of the anger that comes along with knowing I shouldn’t have to act like an overexcited puppy when my child agrees to a burger and fries. She put Alex and me in this situation, and I don’t ever see a complete dissolution of the anger.

  Her tired eyes do help a little, however. I know that she’s struggled. I know that her decision wasn’t an easy one, but I’m also livid about the things I’ve lost, namely time with my son.