Every Wound We Mend

by J. E. Parker

  His response was… surprising. “Guapo—”

  “And thank you for finding your way back to me.” Standing me back on my feet, he grasped my wide hips, holding me steady as I swayed, feeling as though someone had knocked me over the head with a rock. “Even if it took you seven years.”

  He smirked, and I scoffed after sucking in a lungful of much-needed oxygen. Shoving a pointed finger into his rock-solid pec, I raised my chin and narrowed my eyes.

  “Listen to me, James Cole. It is not my fault it took seven years. Blame Anthony,” I teased. “Maybe if he’d gotten his tight culo in gear faster, then I could’ve—”

  The front door burst open, and the man I’d just spoken of stumbled through the entry, looking like he’d just escaped a war zone.

  Hair in disarray, his ripped shirt was no longer tucked into his pressed slacks, and one of his mud-caked pant legs was pulled halfway up, displaying a dirt-streaked, black dress sock.

  Out of breath, he slammed the heavy door shut behind him, flipped the brass deadbolt, and leaned his shoulders back against the stained glass.

  Eyes wide, I rushed toward him, leaving James behind. “What happened to you?” I asked, panic mode activated. “Are you hurt? If so, tell me where—”

  Ignoring my questions, he looked past me to Guapo, who was stomping up the hall behind me. “You’ve got about a minute,” he said, hooked thumb gesturing out the closed door. “Before she turns her attention back this way and comes to bust down the front door.” He pointed at me. “In search of her.”

  I froze.

  Mierda! What the hell was happening?

  Before I could ask such a question, he once again spoke to James as if I weren’t there. It pissed me right off.

  Maybe he needs another swift kick in the cojones or a shot of Mace to the face. Bet that would grab his attention.

  “I told them,” he said, waving his arm in the air. “I told the whole family about everything via our group chat. The swamp, Charleston, her connection to my principessa.”

  Groaning, he touched his lower back.

  “Fuck, that hurts.” Shaking his head, he dropped his hand. “Being the good guy that I am"—he winked my way despite the pain he was in—"I was trying to keep her from having to relive the trauma by telling the same story fifty times.”

  Another grimace.

  “The thing is, I didn’t know you, along with that dumbass son of yours, had lied to a few of the ladies about her being dead when they still thought she was just your girlfriend. Now they know you bullshitted them about her running away instead of being"—he formed air quotes—"murdered.”

  He exhaled. “Even after the good news I thought I was sharing, Maddie and the Crazy Old Biddy are ready to kill you, me, and Hendrix. And my wife is on her way home from the shelter with the former, so Christ only knows what she’ll do when they both get here.”

  Shaking his head, he limped away from the door and further into the foyer. “Grandmama chased me all the way up and down the street in her golf cart. Even hopped the curb like she was on an episode of Live PD when I made a beeline for your front porch and knocked me down with the bumper. I got away, but not before I fell into a bed of rose bushes and absorbed two dozen thorns in my ass and thighs.”

  I was so close to laughing.

  Kicked in the cojones, pepper-sprayed in the face, almost shot with his own gun, chased down by a golf cart, assaulted by a rose bush—el hombre was having a bad twenty-four hours.

  “Hendrix, though, last I saw, the Crazy Old Biddy had him pinned against Chase and Ashley’s fence with nowhere to run.”

  My back popped straight. Hands on my cocked hips, I looked from Guapo to Anthony. “And what does that mean?”

  Anthony’s eyes widened. “It means he’s about to get fucked—”

  “Shit,” James hissed as he rushed forward and pushed a wide-eyed Anthony to the side. The poor guy stumbled before almost tripping over a skateboard. “Carmen, stay here!”

  I blinked. Seriously?

  How estúpido could he be?

  If someone was about to cause harm to Hendrix, to the man I claimed as mi hijo, my son, then they’d have to get through me first.

  Without hesitating, I chased after Guapo, following right on his heels as he burst through the front door, down the wooden porch steps, and ran full bore to Chiquita’s house.

  Behind us, Anthony laughed from the front porch, the sound boisterous, then yelled, “Welcome to the family, Carmen!” Then in a lower, less than amused tone, he added, “The nuthouse, I mean.”

  It was the last thing I heard because just then, my eyes homed in on Hendrix, his back pressed against a wooden fence gate as an old woman in a bright pink golf cart crept toward him, the threat she was making clear.

  Panic filled my throat, choking me.

  And I flew into fight mode.

  13

  James

  At fifty, I was in decent shape.

  Other than a slight ice cream addiction, I ate healthily, ran a couple of miles a few times a week, and lifted weights almost daily.

  But even after all that, Carmen blew past me as if I were standing still, her arms pumping as she bolted across Ashley Jo’s yard to where my son stood, his back glued to the fence gate, face pale and looking like he’d seen a ghost.

  Which to him, he had.

  Anthony may have told him and the rest of the family that the girls were still alive, along with the circumstances of their disappearance and connection to Ashley Jo and me, but seeing Carmen for the first time, as I’m sure would be the same with Little One later, was a different matter entirely.

  Not to mention, a shock.

  Coming to a sudden stop ten feet ahead of me and right next to the Crazy Old Biddy, my woman snatched Grandmama’s infamous flyswatter, which she was waving around all crazy-like, from her hand, face pinched, and leaned inside the electric vehicle, turning off the cart’s ignition switch.

  After killing the power, she stood tall, the pink torture device originally meant to squash flies, but that had been used to slap my poor defenseless ass more times than I cared to recall, clutched in her fisted grip.

  Crossing her arms, she then glared at the nuttiest old woman I’d ever met, mad as could be.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Surprise-filled pale green eyes blinked up at my spitfire as she hollered, her heavily accented voice riding the slight breeze that stirred. “You almost ran him over!”

  I half expected her to tap her foot as she awaited an answer, her lips thinned, and forehead wrinkled. “And I mean no disrespect, Ms. Biddy”—I swallowed down a laugh—“but if you dare hurt a single hair on my son’s head now or in the future, your culo will be mine.”

  Lips parting, the old bird’s mouth gaped.

  It was a good thing I’d picked her up a tube of maximum strength denture adhesive yesterday, or else her teeth would have fallen right out and tumbled to the newly sodded grass.

  “I ain’t got no blasted idea what you just said,'' she declared, tone one of utter disbelief since no one, not even Shelby, ever dared pop off at the mouth to her like Carmen just had. “But I think you and I just became the bestest of friends.”

  Climbing out of the cart, she readjusted her obscene pink sun hat and puffed out her chest like a prideful peacock. “My name is Doris Davis.”

  A genuine smile, one she reserved only for family and a few close friends, appeared on her face, deepening her many laugh lines. “But you can call me Grandmama since you’re my newest grandbaby and all.”

  Not giving my Pixie a chance to react, she threw herself against her, wrapping her old arms around her. Carmen stiffened for the briefest second, surprised as hell, but then melted into the embrace, accepting the affection she’d been starved of for far too long.

  It killed me to think about all the basic things she’d been deprived of—love and safety being the two most notable.

  But it was going to be alright.

 
Because from this moment on, I swore to do everything in my power to touch, kiss, and hold her as much as I could while never failing to remind her I’d let nothing happen to her again. We still had a lot of shit to work through, but I’d be damned if I allowed her to go another minute feeling uncherished.

  Even when she was ready to clock me, and I was ready to muzzle her smartass mouth, I’d always make sure that she knew I loved her with my entire scarred heart.

  Because I did.

  More than words could ever say.

  The best part? I had a huge family, both by blood and choice, to help me spoil her rotten.

  Between my kids and their little monsters, the Crazy Old Biddy, and all the women who worked at the shelter with Maddie and Shelby, most of whom now lived on our street, we would all do everything possible to right every wrong she’d ever been handed.

  Little One too.

  Releasing my Pixie, Grandmama reached up and cupped her face, seriousness lining her pink, blush-stained cheeks. “I ain’t gonna ask you no questions about what you’ve been through because I know enough. And well, around here, we believe it’s best to keep the monsters in the past where they’re in the perfect position to kiss our behinds.”

  I chuckled but then fell silent as she hunched her shoulders the slightest bit, no doubt weighed down by the hurt and anger I knew was pulsating inside her aged heart. “But I want you to know something, and I want you to listen real good to what I say next.”

  Withered hands trembling, she cleared her throat. “Ain’t nobody, and I mean nobody, gonna ever hurt you again. And if some egg-suckin’ dawg so much as tries, I will shoot them right in their sorry, worthless ass. That’s if one of my other grandbaby’s doesn’t get to 'em first.”

  A lump formed in my throat.

  Hendrix’s, too, from the looks of it.

  “You and the Little One I have yet to meet are part of our family now, ya hear? And around here, on this street especially, that means something.”

  Pulling my teary-eyed woman’s face down closer to hers, the Crazy Old Biddy pressed her lips to her cheek, leaving a fuchsia-shaped kiss mark on her tanned skin. “Now that we got that outta the way, are you hungry by chance? ’Cause if you’ll let me, I’d sure like to feed you some supper.”

  Carmen’s own tears—happy ones—fell. “I don’t have any idea what you just said,” she replied, parroting some of the town busybody’s words back to her. “But I think I’d love to be your nieta. And si, you can feed me because I’m starving.”

  Dropping her hands, the family matriarch stepped back, throat bobbing as she worked to swallow down the relief-driven sobs that likely threatened to wrench themselves free as she smiled, falling in love with my woman with each second that ticked by.

  “Alright, then. I’m going to skedaddle on down to Kroger and rustle up some more chicken since you’re starving, and I’ll for sure be feeding an army tonight.”

  She cut her eyes at Hendrix. “Except for you. You don’t deserve any fried chicken, mashed taters and gravy, or apple pie! Not after you went and lied to the girls and me all these years! Even if I do understand why you did it.” Huffing out a breath, she looked my way. “You either, since both of y’all are back on my shitlist.”

  I smirked. “Didn’t know I was ever off it.”

  Wearing a thoughtful expression, she tapped her chin. “That’s true. Well, I suppose you can eat then. Lord knows if that hussy Beatrice hears I ain’t feeding my grandbabies, she’ll try to come steal a few of you.”

  Scowling, she plopped back down in her golf cart. “And I’d hate to have to whip her no girdle wearing self with my swatter.” She peered up at Carmen. “Speaking of, mind if I have that back, Beauty?”

  Beauty…

  It was a nickname I could get behind.

  My Pixie quirked a brow. “Depends. Are you going to use it on my son?” Hendrix’s face tightened, and hard as I tried, I couldn’t get a read on what he was thinking. “Because if so, no, you can’t have it back.”

  Having met her match, pride gleamed in the old coot’s eyes. “I ain’t going to whoop the hoodlum.” She extended her hand, fingers twitching to grasp her favorite accessory. “Now gimme.”

  Once she had her swatter back, she grinned like a kitten who’d just gotten into a bowl of warm cream and bounced on the cart’s seat before starting the ignition and shifting into reverse. “Well, guess I better get going since I’m about to be busier than a cat trying to cover crap on a marble floor.”

  She winked at my woman. “Two hours. Gimme two hours, then come on over for supper.” Hands on the wheel, she looked toward Ashley Jo’s closed front door, eyes full of longing. “And make sure you bring my other new grandbaby, too. I know she’s prolly overwhelmed and worn slap-out, but I ain’t going to be able to hold off from hugging her much longer.”

  Carmen nodded. “If she’s ready, I will.”

  “I can’t ask for much more than that.” Grandmama grinned like the crazy old coot that she was. “Well, everybody, watch your toes ’cause I’m rolling my sassy self out of here.”

  The cart beeped as she backed up. After whipping around, she drove until she was next to me before slamming on the brakes.

  Leaning over the bench-style seat, she peered up at me from beneath the brim of her hat and over the top of her turquoise, cat-eyed glasses. “You take care of her, Superman. You dang-well understand?”

  I scrubbed my hand along my stubble-covered jaw. “Yes, ma’am, I do.”

  Not even close to finished with me, she shot me a look that meant business. “I mean it, you step out of line the least bit where she’s concerned, and me and you’re gonna tangle. I don’t mean naked and between the sheets either.”

  Hendrix dry heaved. “Damn, Grandmama!”

  Ignoring my sick-looking son, she pointed a crooked finger my way and gave me one last warning. “A woman as beautiful and strong as her, who’s warred with the devil himself and survived to tell that tale? That’s a blessing you don’t wanna lose, so you make sure and take extra care. Else I’m gonna turn you into fertilizer by burying you beneath my roses.”

  I nodded. “I would hope so.”

  “Alright,” she said, sitting upright. “Now that you know your butt is mine if you mess up, I’m rolling.” Foot hovering over the pedal, she leaned forward, lips pursed as she strained to get a glimpse of my ass from the side. “Lord have mercy.” She smacked her painted lips together. “Talk about a juicy Georgia peach.”

  With a wicked cackle that would haunt my dreams each time I closed my eyes, she took off, leaving Carmen, Hendrix, and me alone. A thick blanket of silence fell over us as Hendrix stared at Carmen, still looking a little green around the gills, and she stared right back, both unsure of what to say or do.

  “Hendrix, I—”

  “You called me your son,” he said, interrupting her, his tone harsher than I believed he intended it to be. “Did you mean it?”

  Shoulders slumping, she curled in on herself, fear of him rejecting her once she answered, taking hold. Knowing she needed me, I moved forward until my front met her back.

  Wrapping an arm around her belly from behind, I rested my chin atop her head. “Baby, listen to me,” I whispered, finally understanding Hendrix’s expression from a minute before. “My boy is an asshole just like his old man, especially when he’s scared. And right now, he’s terrified.”

  Her hands found my forearm. “Why?”

  Leaning down, I pressed a soft kiss to her temple, allowing my lips to linger before moving them to the shell of her ear. “Because as much as you want him to be your son, he wants you to be his mother.”

  I nuzzled the side of her soft face, not giving the slightest shit we had a one-man audience. “Grown man or not, he’s never had one of those, and trust me, he wants it to be you. He has since the moment y’all met.”

  Like me, he’d fallen head over ass for her.

  Just in a different way.

  “I want him too.�
� Twisting at the waist, she looked up at me. “Very much so.”

  Unwinding my arm from her, I swiped away the tears that slid down her face, causing her cheeks to turn a rosy shade. “Then tell him that.”

  She nodded and looked back at my—our—boy. Tucking an errant lock of her hair behind her ear, she moved toward him, her steps slow and tentative.

  With less than a foot of space separating them, she peered up at him. “Si,” she said, answering his question from a minute before. “I meant it.”

  My boy jerked his head to the right, ripping his eyes from hers. Working on getting his shit under control before he lost it, he swallowed, then took a deep breath. “That mean you’re moving in with my Pop?”

  Her mouth opened, but I replied before she ever got the chance too. “You already know she is. She isn’t getting away from me again.”

  Been there, done that.

  I wasn’t doing it a second time.

  Carmen spun around to face me as his mouth turned up at one corner. “Figured as much.” Shrugging, he chuckled. “I sure as fuck didn’t let Maddie out of my sight after—”

  “Silencio,” she snapped, hands going to her hips in a gesture I’d learned meant she was pissed and ready to make a few heads roll as she prowled back toward me. And right now, it was my neck that had a bullseye tattooed on it.

  “Speaking as a free woman,” she glowered, her hips swaying with each of her steps. “I’ll have you know I make my own decisions now.” She looked ready to clock me. “And that will never change, not even for you, Guapo. Si?”

  Given her past, I should’ve known better than to cross the line I’d just jumped right the hell over. Hendrix should’ve, too, since he knew all about dealing with domestic violence survivors and the independent badasses they typically grew to be thanks to Maddie’s work at the shelter.

  Again, I was an idiot.

  I nodded. “Yeah beautiful, I understand.” The possessiveness that inhabited every cell of my being roared in outrage, but I somehow silenced it.