Corbin returned in mere seconds. “He’s not in the bathroom.”
“Oh no.” Already on her feet, Ivey followed Corbin as he jogged down the steps.
“Justin?” he called but didn’t get an answer. He went through each room, then started to go downstairs and practically ran into Lang. “Is he down there?”
“No.” Lang looked around. “You check the animals?”
“He’s not with them.” Corbin suddenly straightened. “The lake.” His stride long and full of fear, he headed straight for the patio doors, Lang right behind him.
Ivey called, “I’ll look out front!” She didn’t pause for her shoes, just darted out, her gaze searching. Except for the chirping of crickets and the occasional long croak of a frog, the yard was quiet. Dusk had settled with all the bleak gloom of bad news.
Damn it, she should have known Justin would try something like this. He was so stubborn in his pride—but then, for years, pride might have been all he had.
She started to turn around, praying he wasn’t anywhere near the lake, when a low sound reached her ears, a sound that didn’t belong to the quiet night.
Heart pounding hard, she listened...and realized it came from the tree house. It was a low, muffled, heart-wrenching sound that got her feet moving.
Never before had she scaled the ladder so quickly, but this time she practically flew up the thing. When she peeked in, she found Justin sitting with his knees to his chest, his head in his folded arms, crying out his little heart.
As quietly as she could, she texted Corbin: In the tree house.
Then she crawled on in.
It didn’t matter that she hadn’t given birth to Justin. It didn’t matter that she’d met him only months ago, or that she and Corbin weren’t yet married. In every way that mattered, Justin was hers now. She’d be side by side with Corbin to love him for the rest of her life, and by God, she intended to start right now.
“I’m sorry. I know you wanted privacy,” Ivey whispered as she sat behind him and wrapped her arms tight around him. “I need to be with you right now.”
“I’m not a baby,” he cried.
“No. You are an absolutely amazing little boy and I love you so much.”
He twisted suddenly, hugging her neck, his face to her throat as he tried to stem the tears soaking her skin.
She hugged him more fiercely, rocking him a little. “I’m so sorry. Sometimes life is incredibly hard, but you don’t have to go through it alone. I’m here for you, and so is your dad. Your uncle and grandma. Daisy and Maurice and the pups. You are loved by so many. We’ll get through this, all of us together. Okay?”
He choked on a breath. “She didn’t love me.”
What an awful thing for a ten-year-old boy to believe. “I think she did. It’s just that your mother wasn’t well.”
He settled against her more comfortably, his cheek to her shoulder, his face still hidden. “What do you mean?” he finally asked, anxious, maybe, to find a reasonable explanation for something no child could possibly understand.
Corbin came through the doorway, saw them huddled together and briefly closed his eyes.
It amazed Ivey how he filled up the space, how his calm presence already made things better. Unlike her, he was able to quickly hide his upset. She’d never minded her emotional nature, and she figured Justin would get used to it soon enough. In that way, she thought, she and Corbin complemented each other.
When Corbin sat close beside Ivey, Justin wiped his eyes and looked up at him with his little face ravaged, his nose running and his breath uneven. “I didn’t mean to cry.”
“You have every right to your feelings.” Corbin lifted him into his lap, and together the three of them leaned against the rough wooden wall. Justin held on to Ivey’s hand—but no more tightly than she held his. “You have a right to anger, son. To happiness. To worry and fear. To laughter and yes, to tears.”
Justin sniffled. “Is mom...gone?”
With only a single beat of hesitation, Corbin said, “Yes.” He kissed the top of Justin’s head. “But she did love you, son. I know she didn’t always show it. As Ivey said, Darcie was ill. She’d been ill for a long time, I think.”
His solemn gaze met Corbin’s. “You mean she was sick?”
“It was a sort of sickness.” Corbin rubbed up and down his back. “I should have explained this sooner, and I’m sorry that I didn’t. I wanted to protect you, but now I realize that the better way to protect you would have been to give you the information.”
Justin stared at him, his blue eyes swimming with more tears. “It’s okay, Dad.”
For a single second, Ivey saw Corbin’s composure crack. He swallowed heavily, nodded his gratitude and managed to say, “Thank you.” He enfolded Justin in his warm embrace while he struggled. “That means a lot to me.”
Ivey brushed at her falling tears.
When Corbin loosened his hold, he had himself in check again. “Your mother was an addict. That means she took drugs, too many of them.”
“Why?”
“She was unhappy with herself. But those type of drugs aren’t good for you, and they ended up making her even more miserable.”
“Do you ever...?”
“No,” Corbin promised. “Not ever.”
Justin’s questioning gaze switched to Ivey’s.
“I don’t, either, sweetie.” She brushed her thumb over his small knuckles. “I was fortunate that I was always close with my parents, and when things bothered me or when I needed something, I could go to them. I don’t think your mother had that.”
Releasing her hand, Justin sat up on Corbin’s thighs and knuckled his eyes. “Mom used to drink a lot.”
“I know. That’s part of it,” Corbin said. “When people can’t deal with their problems, they sometimes turn to crutches—like drugs and alcohol.”
“I tried to make her happy.”
At this rate, Ivey knew there was no chance of stemming the tears. “Oh, honey. You weren’t responsible for her happiness.”
“No, you weren’t,” Corbin said. “The way it’s supposed to work, and definitely how it will work for us, is that a parent is supposed to care for their child. In your mother’s case, and in other cases, too, the parent has issues that aren’t easily solved.” He lifted Justin’s chin. “I saw your mother not too long ago.”
He startled, his eyes flaring. “You did?”