Every Wound We Mend

by J. E. Parker

  “You’re flippin’ right.” Scowling, Hendrix turned and headed back outside. “Come get the boys and me when supper’s ready!”

  The door slammed, and James focused back on me, his lips inching closer to mine. “After dealing with that, Pixie, I need a kiss.” I held my breath, waiting for him to do as he wanted, but before he could, Gracie happened.

  “Eww,” she said, her high-pitched voice one of the cutest things I’d ever heard, even though she was interrupting a moment I desperately wanted. “They’re gonna smooch again. How disgustin’!”

  “It’s not disgusting,” Bella murmured, swooning in place. “It’s romantic. Sooo romantic.” Hands clasped in front of her, she sighed. “I can’t wait for Johnny to kiss me someday.”

  I silenced the surprised laughter that had burst out of me when James growled quietly like a subdued grizzly, his attention focused on me.

  Clearly, he hadn’t heard Bella.

  If he had, he would’ve had a thing or dos to say about the whole Johnny situation before touching his mouth to mine in a kiss that made the butterflies in my belly flutter quicker, and the stitches mending my heart pull even tighter.

  Unfortunately, thanks to our gawking audience, the kiss that I’d craved, and he’d delivered, had ended swiftly, ceasing almost before it had begun.

  But even fleeting, it was beautiful.

  One of the most beautiful I’d ever had.

  20

  James

  Shortly after dawn, I woke to screaming.

  With my mind filled with cobwebs and my limbs heavy with sleep, it took me a minute to realize exactly where it was coming from, but when recognition clicked, slamming into me with the force of a freight train, my blood boiled.

  Then, seconds later, it ran ice cold.

  And it did so, because right beside me, while in my arms, the one place where she was supposed to be safe from the demons and monsters of her past, Carmen was having a nightmare.

  A bad one, it seemed.

  Jerking upright, I ripped my arm from beneath her and cupped both her shoulders, careful not to squeeze too hard. “Carmen…” I gave her the slightest shake. “Baby, wake up.”

  Eyes wrenched shut, and with her face covered in a cold sweat, she arched her neck, baring her teeth instead of doing as I’d commanded and waking. Held captive by whatever entity that had its claw-like hold on her psyche, she screamed, the heart-wrenching sound one of unadulterated terror.

  I’d been through a lot of bad shit in my life, had experienced and doled out more pain than most, but seeing her like that, imprisoned by forces I couldn’t battle on her behalf made my gut twist, ripping me apart from the inside out.

  Lost to the madness, she struck out at me on instinct, her panic-driven aim sending the heel of her soft hand colliding against the top of my sternum. “No!” she screeched, legs kicking, feet striking out for an invisible target beneath the sheets blanketing her lower half. “Don’t!”

  Chest filling with roaring anger—not at her, but at whatever invisible foe she was fighting—I gripped her wrists and pinned them against the mattress on each side of her head. Trapping her wasn’t the best thing to do given the circumstances, but to keep her from hurting herself, I had no choice.

  Holding her tight, I leaned forward, moving my face closer to hers as more than one pair of light footsteps padded against the hardwood path leading to my bedroom.

  Fuck! We’re about to have an audience—

  “Pop-Pop!” Melody screamed from the door where she’d appeared, a panicked Maci and Bella standing on each side of her. “What’s happening?”

  Face twisted with the type of fear that I’d never wanted to see on her, she cried, her innocent gaze bouncing between Carmen and me. “What’s wrong with CeCe?”

  “Girls, go back to bed,” I demanded. “I’ve—”

  Back bowing, my woman screamed again, cutting me off, her head thrashing from left to right as her demons sunk their talons deeper, pulling her headfirst into the very darkness we were fighting to put behind us.

  Melody took a step forward, tiptoeing into the room, but remaining bathed in the muted light spilling in from the hallway, allowing me to still see her. And thank Christ for that because my night vision was complete shit.

  “She’s having a nightmare.” Lips quivering, she wrapped her arms around her middle, hugging herself. “Just like Aunt Shelby has sometimes.”

  Thinking about the trauma my daughter had endured before coming into my life made me want to fly into a full-blown rage. Like Carmen, Ashley Jo, Jade, and Clara, her life hadn’t been all rainbows and unicorns.

  To my dismay, she had a few demons too.

  The only difference was my daughter had vanquished one of hers. Physically, at least. Mentally and emotionally, though? That was a different story.

  Succumbing to the panic written all over her face, Maci wrapped her arms around a taller Bella, holding her close. Her eyes, which were perfect replicas of mine, begged me to put a stop to whatever was hurting her CeCe. “Wake her up, Pop-Pop!” she screamed. “Please!”

  “Girls,” I tried again. “I’ve got this. Go—”

  Deciding to take matters into her own hands, and not listening to me for a single damned second—like father, like daughter—Melody took off, closing the space between my bed and where she’d stood in record time before leaping onto the mattress and wedging herself between my cracking chest and Carmen’s tensed body.

  Anchoring herself to my beautiful Pixie, she buried her sweet face in the crook of Carmen’s throat and cried harder, her shoulders shaking from the sobs overtaking her.

  “Wake up, CeCe,” she pleaded, her voice unbelievably strong for a seven-year-old who was watching one of her favorite people unconsciously fall apart. “It’s Melly Belly, Maci, Bella, and Pop-Pop.” She paused, her tears almost becoming too much—for both her and me—to handle. “We have you, and you’re safe. I pinky promise.”

  Carmen didn’t answer.

  She couldn’t.

  Instead, immersed in whatever Hell she was waging war to escape, she shrieked once more, the fear unfolding inside her head unmistakable. “Carmen,” I tried as Melody held steady, bravely holding onto her for dear life. “Baby, wake up. Right—”

  “CeCe!” It was Bella’s turn to shout. “Wake up! Please!” She and Maci both moved into the room, taking the same path Melody had seconds before until their knees butted against the side of my mattress. “You’re scaring Freckles and—”

  Carmen’s eyes popped open.

  Darkened irises dilated and flooded with fright, she glared my way, her eyes unseeing, and jerked against my hands, trying in vain to rip free of my hold and strike out at me.

  “Pixie,” I whispered, hoping my voice would get through to her before the girls lost it and God forbid, the Crazy Old Biddy drove her beloved Caddy through my front door and vaulted the stairs like an Olympic hurdler, shotgun in hand. “Baby, it’s us, and we have you,” I told her, reiterating what Melody—how the hell is she so smart at only seven?—had just said.

  “Yeah, CeCe,” Maci whispered, voice cracking. “Like Pop-Pop and Melly Belly said, it’s us and—”

  “We have you,” Bella added. “Trust us—”

  “You’re safe,” Melody finished.

  Wetness flooded Carmen’s eyes, her body growing lax. “James,” she murmured, face softening before contorting with a mixture of undeniable heartbreak and horror. “Was I—”

  “It was just a nightmare,” I interjected, hoping I could cut off the inevitable meltdown to come at the pass. “It’s over now.”

  Releasing her, I cupped her face, my thumbs stroking her cheeks in a move I knew would calm her. “So just breathe for me.”

  Sitting up, Melody straddled Carmen’s stomach and clapped her hands, grabbing her CeCe’s attention. “Breathe like this.” She pulled in a deep breath through her nose, then parted her still trembling lips and exhaled. “It’s what Mama has the ladies at the shelter
do when they get scared and all panicky ’cause of the bad stuff that’s happened to them.”

  At her words, everything clicked.

  Being Maddie’s shadow, Melody had spent many days at the shelter, and by watching her Mama walk other survivors through the effects of whatever trauma they’d endured, she’d learned a thing or two.

  And now, she was using it to help Carmen.

  I’d never been so proud in my damned life.

  Hiccuping, my Pixie did as she’d been told by my—no, our—too-smart-for-her-age granddaughter and pulled in a shaky breath.

  Then she blew it out.

  Dozens of times, she repeated the move.

  Until finally, her panic became manageable.

  “I’m so s-sorry,” she stuttered, wits gathered. “I didn’t—”

  “It’s totes okay,” Maci interrupted, dropping her arms from Bella, and hopping up onto the bed, smiling as if nothing had happened. “Like Mama says, bad dreams happen sometimes. And at least you didn’t kick Pop-Pop outta bed like Melly Belly does me.” She sneered at her older sister and threw her hands up. “And she’s not even dreaming when she does it! She’s just a bed hog!”

  Swaying from side to side, slow dancing in place to music that only she could hear, Bella laughed. “That’s what Daddy says about Mama. ‘Cept, he says she steals the blanket, then pushes him off the mattress with her feet.” She shrugged. “That’s okay, though, because he gets her back by snoring like a bear.”

  Melody huffed, clearly offended. “Yeah, well, I may be a bed hog but Maci toots in her sleep, and that’s just plain gross!”

  Carmen burst into laughter, her mood and expression doing a complete one-eighty as Maci’s face turned fire-hydrant red, and she stomped, mimicking the hissy fit her sister had thrown earlier.

  “I do not, Melly Belly! Take it back!”

  “Alright,” I butted in, pointing between both girls with a hand I’d pulled from Carmen’s face. “You two knock it off before your brother hears you and comes barreling in here.”

  “Yeah, right.” Bella rolled her eyes. “Maddox and the rest of the boys are downstairs, sleeping like the dead in the middle of the family room with the TV blaring.” She paused and chewed her lip nervously. “Well, not just the boys…”

  Carmen’s head snapped up, leaving her damp pillow. Eyes wide, she looked at Bella, who’d just mumbled something that was close to giving me a stroke.

  Tell me she didn’t say what I think she did.

  “What do you mean?” Pixie asked, jerking upright and nearly sending Melody tumbling backward. Thankfully, my girl was fast and jumped to the left before Carmen could knock her over. “Which little chica is downstairs? You’re all supposed to be up here in Hendrix’s old room.”

  Maci shrunk in on herself. “We were but…”

  “Lily Ann got scared ’cause of the dark and stuff,” Gracie, who’d just appeared in the doorway out of nowhere, looking half asleep and holding a half-filled glass of chocolate milk in her hand, said. “And when she gets scared, only that turd Ryker can make her unscared. Duh.”

  I froze, same as Carmen.

  Oh fuck.

  Gracie shrugged. “Yeah, so Addie and Olivia are still snoozin’ on the top bunk in Uncle Henny’s room, but Tinkerbell is sleepin’ with Ryker on the couch.” Carmen’s eyes met mine as Shelby Jr.’s mouth kept running. “What’s it matter for anyhow? It’s not like they’re gonna kiss—”

  “Shoot!” Remembering to watch my mouth, which was a miracle, I belted out the first thing that came to mind instead of the four-letter explicit I wanted to shout, threw back the sheets and sprang out of bed. “If Tuck finds out about this, he’ll kill me.”

  Melody scoffed, seeing right through my dramatics. “Oh, please.” Jesus, she sounded just like Maddie. “Ryker’s only seven! It’s not like he and Tink are boyfriend and girlfriend like you and CeCe!”

  Her CeCe and I were a lot more than that.

  Not that I had time to explain a damn thing.

  Because I didn’t—not at all.

  Turning on the lamp next to my bed, I blinked and grabbed a shirt from the floor before putting it on. Thank Christ I’d worn sweats to bed. “You’re right, Melly Belly, Ryker just turned seven,” I said, gesturing for Carmen to hop up too, which she was already doing. “But your mama was only seven when she met your daddy.”

  She gasped. “Oh... ”

  Oh was right.

  Though some refused to see the obvious truth—and by some, I mean Tuck—it was clear to anyone with half a brain that Ryker and Lily Ann, who were connected at the hip and possessed a bond I’d only ever seen one other time in kids, were likely headed down the same road as Hendrix and Maddie.

  And may God help us all.

  “Guapo.” Pulling on the knee-length robe, Carmen stared at me, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth just like Bella had done. “We need to get downstairs and handle things, but when we’re done, I need to talk to you about”—she pointed toward the bed, her eyes clouding with embarrassment or shame; I couldn’t tell which—“that.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, baby, I know. Because you’re sure as shit—so much for watching my mouth—going to tell me what you were dreaming about. Then, we’ll work on fixing it by getting you into counseling if that’s what you want. Individual, family, group, all of the above, doesn’t matter. Whatever you need, we’ll do it. Same for Jade. Got it?”

  She swallowed and trailed her fingers through Maci’s hair when the latter leaned against her, wrapping her arms around her rounded hips.

  “I’ve got it. And gracias.”

  I winked at her. “Always, beautiful.”

  “Now”—I gestured toward the open door where Gracie still stood, looking like she was about to fall back asleep—“let’s go handle this before someone walks in, and crap hits the fan.”

  The last word had just left my mouth when the front door opened downstairs, and my troublemaking son, of all people, barged into the foyer like he did every morning when on the hunt for the extra-strong coffee I always set my machine to automatically brew at dawn.

  “Oh hell,” I heard him mumble, more than likely having spotted Lily Ann curled up next to Ryker. “I’ve gotta get a picture of this.” He chuckled. “Tuck is going to lose his ever-lovin—”

  “Hendrix!” Carmen hollered, making all four girls—me too, if I’m honest—jump in place like startled kittens. “Don’t you dare snap a picture! You do, mijo, and I swear your culo is mine!”

  Mijo…

  The lone name brought back memories of my mother, and like always, when confronted with thoughts of her, my heart tightened, the needle-like spikes I was convinced were embedded deep in its core working to make me double over in pain.

  But to my surprise, unlike the times before, the agony that took hold, and there was a lot of it, was only temporary and failed to awaken the rage that lived in my gut.

  Instead, I was able to deal with my grief and breathe through the pain until it abated, releasing me from its iron-like hold.

  All of which was thanks to Carmen.

  Stitch by stitch, she was fixing me.

  Just as I was doing with her.

  Deep down, I knew that before long, each of our vast wounds would be mended, and once they were, for the first in many years, we’d both be whole.

  Then we’d finally get our happily ever after.

  21

  Carmen

  The smell of cachapas filled the kitchen.

  Comforted by the familiar aroma, I danced in place next to the stove where I was busy cooking breakfast, the sounds of cumbia music floating through the speakers of my phone, filling the air.

  “CeCe!” my sweet Addie yelled from beside me, where she danced next to Olivia, Little One, and an embarrassed Chiquita, trying her best to mimic my moves. “Is this how you do it?”

  I nodded, raising my arms. “Si, bebé, just feel the beat and move.”

  Feeling sweat break out along my freshl
y showered skin as my heart warmed, a stark contrast to the chunk of ice it had been when I’d awoken earlier, my mind blank from the demons that had terrorized me as I slept, a smile tilted my lips.

  “I feel it, but I still can’t dance!” Chiquita, who was as red-faced as could be, screeched over the music, laughing as Jade circled her, her wild hair flying in all different directions when she swung her head back and forth, cheeks pinkening. “I’m going to end up falling on my face in a minute!”

  Cristo, the dramatics.

  Some things never changed.

  I loved it.

  “Unlike Miss Colombia over there, who foxtrotted and tangoed her way to a frickin’ national pageant crown, I can’t either!” Little One replied, moving faster, no doubt thanks to the dozen Pixy Sticks she’d consumed minutes earlier. “I mean, just look at me! I don’t know what I’m even doing, but dang it, I’m moving!”

  Authentic laughter spilled from my lips when Clara appeared in the doorway with Hope at her side. “Why did nobody tell us y’all were having a dance party in the kitchen?” Grabbing a snickering Hope’s hand, she dragged her into the room and toward her youngest daughter. “Come on, Itty Bitty, let’s dance with my baby girl!”

  They’d just reached Olivia when a masculine chuckle, one I’d never tire of hearing, echoed around the room, snaring my attention, and captivating my thundering heart.

  Eyes moving from all my beautiful chicas—both full-grown and little—that surrounded me, I locked gazes with Guapo.

  Brawny arms crossed over his broad chest, he leaned back against the far wall, his dark, assessing stare roaming over my smiling face before caressing my damp chest, then dropping to my denim-clad hips.

  Jaw twitching, he sucked in an audible breath before looking back up, his pupils filling with heat. Smirking at the obvious desire that flashed across his features before he masked it, I dropped my arms and crooked a finger, beckoning him closer.

  “Come here.”