Those were boundaries I wouldn’t cross, no matter how badly I needed to see, to touch, and to kiss my girl. With the ability to calm me even when I was at my worst, she was my rock, my anchor, and the strength that pulled me through even when I was falling apart.
Like now.
“Fuck,” I said, navigating her Corolla around downtown Toluca. I had no idea where to go, what to do. Going back to my apartment wasn’t an option, not when she wasn’t there. The emptiness would only eat me alive, further enraging me. Hendrix and Ty would both be at the station for another twenty-fours so they were out of the question.
I can always go to Grandmama’s...
Even as mad as I was, the thought made me chuckle.
My ass would be covered in bruises come sundown.
Coming to a stoplight, I stared at the four-way intersection.
Continuing straight would lead me back to my apartment, but again, that wasn’t really any option. Turning right would take me past the shelter, but I couldn’t go there for obvious reasons. Turning left would take me out of town and to the place where my father and Lily were buried. That definitely was a good idea considering my mood.
I glanced in the rear-view mirror.
Turning around and heading back the way I’d come from would lead me straight to my childhood home, the place where I knew Mama likely sat on the front-porch all alone, her vacant stare affixed to the things before her that held so many memories.
My treehouse.
Lily’s sandbox.
Her abandoned rose garden.
Daddy’s rotten, threadbare hammock.
The light turned green and the car behind me honked.
A decision had to be made, a path needed to be taken.
Without another thought, I stepped on the gas and whipped the car around, making a u-turn. Then, with my heart in my throat, I headed for the one place I’d once called home, and for the one person I hoped would be waiting with open arms.
* * *
Mama wasn’t sitting on the front porch.
Where she was, I didn’t have the damndest clue.
The curtains lining the windows along the front of the house were all drawn shut, the porch light still burning from the night before. Her newspaper, the one she still scanned every day, if only to read the obituaries rested on the steps next to an empty flower pot.
Knowing that it may be a bad idea, and that it may end in disaster, I climbed out of the car, shutting the door behind me. Purposely keeping my head down so I didn’t have to see Lily’s sandbox, I made my way to the front of the house, stopping to pick up the paper when I reached the steps.
Once at the door, I wrapped my hand around the knob, and not bothering to knock, twisted it. The heavy wooden door swung open, and I stepped into the foyer.
Like always, memory after memory bombarded me, assaulting my senses and stealing my breath. The good, the bad, and the downright ugly—they all flashed before my eyes, leaving me reeling and fighting to stay upright.
The sound of Lily’s ghostly voice as she hollered, “Hey, Kyle,” reverberated through my head, while the sound of Mama’s bright laughter and Daddy’s low chuckle echoed off the walls.
My chest ached; my heart felt as though it was cracking in half.
The guilt, the agony, the sense of loss... they all pummeled me, battering my tarnished soul and mutilated heart.
Out of breath and feeling my head spin, I leaned over, placing my hands on my thighs for support. The surrounding room began to spin. Swear to Christ I was close to passing out.
It was a first for me.
Footsteps padded down the stairs. Mama’s panicked voice followed. “Kyle,” she called out, her footsteps moving faster. “Son, what’s wrong?”
Gaze focused on the wooden floor beneath my booted feet, I paid her no mind as she came to a stop in front of me, her bony hands clutching at the lapel of her worn robe.
“Kyle,” she whispered, her voice laced with panic. “Say something, please.” Dropping her hands from her robe, she ran her hands over my shoulders, chest and arms, searching for injuries. “Why is there blood on your shirt? What happened?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come.
“Son, you’re scaring me.” Her voice shook. “Oh goodness”—she gasped—"your hand." Resting her hands on my shoulders, she squeezed with all her might. “Kyle Andrew Tucker, you tell me what happened right this minute.”
Never thought I’d feel such joy upon hearing her chastise me, but when she spoke to me in a tone I hadn’t heard in seventeen years, the grief that was wrapped around my neck in a vice slowly abated.
Blowing out a breath, I straightened my spin, rising to my full height.
My heart pounded as I looked down at her, meeting her gaze head on. “We gotta talk, Mama.”
She nodded, no hesitation.
“I can’t keep doing this shit,” I stated plainly. “Neither can you. We’ve gotta find a way to move on, to let it all go.”
Part of me expected her to yell at me, maybe even backhand me for suggesting that we put the past behind us, while the other part expected her to retreat into her shell and shutdown.
She did neither.
Instead, she dropped her hands from my shoulders and wrapped her arms around her belly. “You want some coffee first? I was just about to put a pot of decaf on.”
I nodded. “Need some help?”
A small smile tipped her lips, surprising me. “I would like that,” she replied, her eyes shining a little bit brighter. “But first I want you to wash your hands and clean up those knuckles so they don’t scar.”
My knuckles were already scarred, had been for a long time.
I wasn’t about to argue with her though.
“First Aid kit is in the bathroom upstairs. Still in the place it’s always been.”
I said nothing as I walked around her and started up the stairs.
When I’d made it halfway to the top, she called out my name, stopping me in my tracks. “Kyle,” she said, “son, look at me.”
I turned my head, looking at her over my shoulder.
The unshed tears filling her eyes knocked me off kilter. “Glad you came back,” she whispered. “I’m real glad, sweet boy.”
I swallowed down the emotion that rose in my throat. “Yeah, Mama,” I replied. “Me too.”
I didn’t wait for her to respond before continuing up the stairs.
My last thought as I headed in the bathroom at the end of the hall: This won’t be easy.
Turns out, I was right.
Long overdue, the conversation to come was hell.
But it was worth it.
* * *
“It wasn’t your fault.”
Seated on a wingback chair next to the fireplace, my head in my bandaged hand, I listened as Mama cried, her soft sobs doing little to deter the heartbreaking confessions that spilled from her lips, one after the other.
“I never thought it was your fault,” she said, adding to her words from seconds before. “Only person I ever blamed was myself.”
My brows furrowed.
Lifting my pounding head, I looked at her, my eyes full of confusion. “Why? You weren’t there that day.”
The coffee cup she held in her hand shook the slightest bit. Swallowing, she leaned to the side, setting it on one of the two end tables. “I may not have been there, but I was the one who allowed that monster”—her voice broke on the last word—“to get near my little girl in the first place. If it hadn’t been for me letting him give her that sucker, she would’ve never approached him that day at the park.”
The guilt dripping from Mama’s words was obvious.
Heartbreaking too.
“I should’ve known there was something wrong with him when he kept telling me how pretty Lily was”—her eyes slid closed—"how sweet she was."
I felt like throwing up.
“I’m such a stupid woman, because I thought nothing of it. People always, and I mea
n always, commented on how pretty Lily was.” Opening her eyes, she met my gaze. “How could I have been so dumb?”
“You weren’t dumb,” I told her. “Not then and not now.”
Emotion after emotion flashed across her face, contorting her features, and breaking my goddamn heart even more. “I let him near my baby. Even made sure she told him thank you for the lollipop. If I had known...”
Mama’s guilt, as misplaced as it was, made sense.
It was no wonder she’d pulled back, vanishing from life. The guilt I carried on my shoulders had turned me into a man who was driven by anger and fueled by rage. Mama on the other hand had checked out, retreating into her head.
“I thought you hated me,” I said, feeling my chest burn. “Thought you blamed me for Teacup’s death.”
Mama’s eyes widened.
Horror followed by disbelief flashed across her face. “Hate you? Kyle, baby, there is nothing you could do to make me hate you.”
“You sure? Cause I damn sure hate myself.”
“Why—”
“Because,” I snapped. “If I hadn’t turned my back on her she never would’ve been taken. If I hadn’t been so consumed with my need to beat Ty, then that piece of shit Edgar Louis wouldn’t have had the chance to take her. I would’ve seen him, would’ve been able to stop her before she reached him and—”
“That’s not true,” Mama interjected, cutting me off.
“Yes it is,” I argued, annoyance nipping at my spine.
“He had a gun, Kyle,” she whispered, shaking her head. “A gun that he was prepared to use.”
All the air evaporated from my lungs.
“If you had tried to intervene more than you did, you would be dead. You, Ty, and anyone else who tried to step in.” Tear after tear slid down her cheeks. “Then I would’ve lost both my babies.”
I swallowed down the hurt that rose into my throat.
“I still should have stopped him. There had to of been a way.”
Mama shook her head. “There wasn’t. Doesn’t matter how you swing it, that man would’ve gotten what he wanted, no matter what you did. You could have been standing beside your sister, her hand in yours, and he would’ve gunned you down like a rabid dog.”
“But I—”
“No, Kyle,” she said, stopping the staunch denial I was about to sling her way. “Nothing you say will change the truth. And that truth? Even as much as we blame ourselves, in the end there is only one person responsible for Lily’s death”—a choked sob broke free from her chest—“and that’s Edgar Louis."
I hate hearing his fucking name!
Needing to move on, I stood. I couldn’t talk about Edgar, the goddamn monster, a second longer. If I did, my head would explode. Either that or I’d shove my hand through the nearest wall, something I didn’t want—or need—to do.
“If you didn’t blame me, then why didn’t you stop Dad that day in my room?” Walking over the back window, I stared out at the yard. “Why didn’t you say something when he slammed me against the wall, or when he told me that he wished it was me who died instead of Teacup?”
I waited with bated breath for her to give me an excuse or try to explain away her actions—or rather non actions—that day.
She did neither.
“Because I’m a foolish woman.”
I turned. “What do you mean?”
“There is no excuse for what happened that day and for the things I allowed to happen. I will not sit here and try to justify your father’s behavior, nor will I attempt to justify the choice I made not to take a cast-iron skillet to the backside of his head. He made a mistake by doing what he did, but I made a bigger one by not intervening. That is something I will have to live with until my dying breath.”
“You feel guilty about not stopping him?”
Fire bled into Mama’s irises. “Every single day.”
It made little sense, but hearing Mama admit her wrongs snapped a broken piece inside me back into place.
Moving across the room, I sat down on the sofa next to her, opposite the side where Lily always sat. Exhaling, I took Mama’s hand in mine and ran my thumb along her protruding knuckles. “Got in a fight at work today.”
Mama’s gaze dropped to my busted hand. “I figured. Heavens knows I cleaned up your bloody knuckles more than once after you tussled with Hendrix or Ty.” Her eyes met mine again. “Which one did you punch this time?”
I chuckled. “Neither.”
“Then who?”
My skin prickled, the anger returned. “A rookie named Carson.”
“You better have had a good reason, son. Only reason you should ever hit someone is if they hit you first.”
My father’s voice rang out in my head. Don’t you ever throw the first punch, he’d once said. But if someone hits you, then you whoop their ass.
“He didn’t hit me first.”
Mama quirked a brow, waiting for me to continue.
So I did.
“He wants Carissa.”
Mama’s lips thinned. “He ain’t bothering her, is he?”
I shook my head. “He’s still breathing, so to answer your question, no, he’s not.”
“Kyle—”
“Only thing he’s done so far is jack up my truck. Had to have it towed to be repaired.”
“How bad was it?”
“Terrible. Asshole slashed the tires, busted the windshield, destroyed the paint job.”
“You sure it was him?”
I nodded. “Happened right after Carissa met me at the station, and he saw us together.” Still holding her hand in mine, I continued. "Ty found the empty paint cans he used, along with a bat in the back of his truck. Unless it’s one helluva coincidence, I’d say it was him."
“How does Carissa feel about it?”
“Only met him once, but there was something about him that put her on edge. She doesn’t know I hit him yet, nor that I’m suspended, but I’m sure she’ll have plenty to say.” I chuckled. “She doesn’t like violence. Not that I blame her. She sees enough of the aftermath at the shelter where she works.”
“We’ll talk about you being suspended in a minute.” Mama sucked in a breath. “But first, Carissa works at a shelter?”
“Yeah, the Battered Women’s Shelter in downtown Toluca. She’s been working there for four years as a victim’s advocate, but she’s about to get bumped up to case worker since she finally graduated.”
“She’s a social worker?”
Mama sounded in awe.
Again, I nodded. “Yeah, Mama, she is.”
Clutching her chest, she pulled her gaze from me and looked at the framed family photo that still hung above the mantle. It was the same one I’d wanted to destroy not long ago. “I like Carissa. She’s a beautiful girl with a good heart. Reminds me so much of her mother.” Smiling, she turned her head and brought her eyes back to me. “You take care of that girl, Kyle.”
“Planning too.”
Mama nodded. “Good, because I sure would like to see her around more.”
Inspiration struck.
Releasing her hand, I leaned forward and ran a hand down the side of her face. “How would you like to see her today?” Mama’s eyes widened. “She wanted me to invite you over for supper. Why not tonight?”
I halfway expected Mama to turn me down.
She didn’t.
“I would love too.”
Another broken piece snapped into place.
“Yeah? Well how about you ride with me to pick her up from work later? We can surprise her together.”
Mama’s smile grew. “What will we do until then?”
A lump formed in my throat as I lifted Mama’s hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Make up for lost time,” I whispered.
More tears, these ones good, filled Mama’s eyes.
“I’d like that, son,” she replied. “I’d like that a whole lot.”
They were some of the sweetest words I’d ever heard.
Thirty-Two
Carissa
I was seated behind Charlotte's desk, working my way through a stack of intake forms when Heidi burst through the office door, an expression I couldn't read on her face.
It was the first time I'd seen her since getting to work hours earlier.
"Hey, Bug." I stood and rounded the desk before throwing my arms around her neck, hugging her tight. "Missed you."
I pulled back in time to see her roll her eyes. "Sure," she signed, a sarcastic expression on her face. "Let's face it, I've been replaced by the Hulk."
Though she was playing, my smile dropped.
I loved Kyle with every ounce of my heart, but he'd never replace Heidi.
No one ever could.
"Stop it," I said, looking her directly in the eyes. "That's not funny."
Realizing her words had upset me, she frowned. "Sorry," she signed. "I was trying to be funny." Biting her lower lip, she dropped her hands and whispered, "I missed you too, by the way. It's weird not having you around every day."
My heart clenched. "Same."
Taking a step back, I glanced at the clock that hung on the far wall.
4:55, it read.
"I get off in thirty-five minutes. Kyle has my car since his truck is being repaired, but I'm sure he won't mind if you ride to his apartment with us so you and I can spend some time together."
"What's wrong with his truck?"
I groaned. "You don't want to know."
She nodded, a goofy smile on her face. "Yeah, I do."
Knowing she wouldn't leave it be, I went about explaining the situation to her. "Fine. Remember that guy Carson from the station?"
A dark look spread across her face. "The guy with copper-colored hair?"
It was my turn to nod. "Yeah, him."
"Well, he sort of vandalized Kyle's truck. Like, a lot."
"You've gotta be shitting me," Heidi cursed, surprising me.
"Did you just cuss?"
She shrugged. "Less questions, more answers."
Eyes wide, I shook my head. "No, I'm not—" I paused "—ya know… pooping you."
Heidi rolled her eyes at my refusal to cuss. "What did Kyle do?"
Every Time We Touch: A Redeeming Love Novel (Book 5) Page 25