He didn’t listen. Instead, he hooked his boot around one of the legs of my coffee table and pulled it closer to the couch. The cheap wooden table groaned under his weigh as he sat on it, but he didn’t seem to care, he simply ignored the ominous sound, braced his forearms on his thighs, and reached out to take my hands in his. “There’s so much you don’t know, honey, so much I need to explain.”
None of what he was saying made any sense, but I was beyond caring. Every pleading word, every soft, tender look was a knife right to the heart, because it was all a lie. “Stop it,” I bit out. “None of this matters. You left, Jensen. You knew how much that would hurt me, how much it would kill me, and you did it anyway. You made me fall in love with you, then you walked out. Just like everyone else. That’s something I’ll never forgive you for.”
His fingers tightened around mine, the grip only a step below painful as dejection slid across his features. Unable to handle that look, I dropped my gaze to our hands and noticed the scrapes extending across his knuckles for the first time.
My head shot back up, my brows pulled into a deep frown “Did you get into a fight?” My heart began to race, fear of what his answer would be setting in. All too often when we’d been together, Jensen would end an argument with someone by using his fists. That side of him had always terrified me. Not because I was scared he’d hurt me, but because I was worried that one day, he’d go too far and wouldn’t be able to come back from it.
That first fight I’d witnessed between him and Ronny Culpepper was far from the last, but as we got older, he’d tried his hardest to keep his anger in check. He didn’t always succeed. With everything his parents had put him through growing up, it was a miracle he wasn’t worse off. Still, seeing him in a rage like that always killed me. The man I loved would disappear and this stranger I didn’t like all that much would take his place.
Jensen’s brow furrowed and his head tilted to the side on confusion. “What?”
“Your hand,” I said disparagingly. “It’s all cut up.”
“Oh.” He looked down at his hand like he hadn’t even realized his knuckles were covered in dried blood. “No. It was nothing like that. I cut myself building a set of bunk beds.”
It was my turn to be confused. “Bunk beds?”
His features twisted into a look of apprehension as he lowered his voice. “Yeah. I got them just in case . . . You know, if you ever decided to let Brant stay the night with me.”
I didn’t want to be moved by that admission, but damn it, I was. “You got him bunk beds just in case?”
Those gray eyes lightened just a bit. “I wanted him to have his own space.”
Oh hell. Why did that feel so damn good?
“And I want you to know, I haven’t been in a fight in years, Shane. I’m not that guy anymore, I swear.”
I wasn’t sure I believed that. I wanted to, but I couldn’t bring myself to trust it.
At my silence, his lips parted to add more, but before he could get the words out, the sound of the screen door creaking open shot through the living room. I barely managed to stumble to my feet and take a step to the side to put some space between us before the front door burst open, and my little tornado came barreling in, a ball of hyper energy. “Hey, Mommy! Guess what I got at the—?”
Brantley skidded to a stop just past the threshold, his wide, excited eyes on Jensen. “For Pete’s sake, child,” Caroline spoke from behind him, “I nearly ran you over. What in the world . . .” Her words died off when she saw what made Brant freeze in place. My aunt looked up with concern and shock swimming in her eyes as they bounced between me and Jensen.
Finally, a second later, Brant snapped out of his trance-like state. “Daddy!” my boy screeched before racing across the living room and launching himself into his father’s arms.
I watched with an ache building in my chest as Jensen scooped him up and rose to his feet, giving my kid a playful spin that made him giggle like crazy. That ache only intensified as Jensen clutched Brantley close and squeezed his eyes closed tight, inhaling deeply like he was trying to pull my boy’s scent into his lungs to keep forever. The expression on his face—one of pain and happiness—was one I’d never seen before. And the effect it had on me, seeing that love he had for my son radiating from every pore, made it nearly impossible to breathe.
“Hey, bud,” he said in a husky voice. “Missed you like crazy.”
Brantley began to squirm, giving his dad no choice but to put him back on his feet. “I missed you too! Did you come over to see my new bike? It’s so cool!”
“Oh, uh . . .”
At his hesitation, Brantley’s face began to fall. Unable to stand the thought of my sweet kiddo being disappointed, I found myself speaking up before I could think twice. “Yeah, kid. That’s exactly why your daddy’s here. He wanted to see your new super cool bike for himself.”
Brantley threw his little fist in the air. “Awesome! And you can talk to Momma about taking my trainin’ wheels off. Trainin’ wheels are for little babies, and I’m big. Someday I’m gonna be as big as you, right, Dad?”
Jensen looked to me to gauge my reaction before chancing a response, and I quickly put him out of his misery. “How about we leave that discussion for a another day, and right now you just go spend some time with your dad?”
He didn’t have to be told twice. Grabbing his father’s hand, he began yanking him toward the front door, and I watched, ignoring the way my chest warmed as Jensen’s mini-me dragged him away.
Chapter Eight
Shane
My aunt’s head whipped around in my direction as soon as the door closed behind them, her eyes wide with shock. “You wanna tell me what’s going on? ’Cause I get the feeling Brant and I just walked into something extreme.”
“It’s not a big deal,” I lied as I spun around and started for the kitchen.
I could hear her feet pattering after me, speed walking to keep up. “Not a big deal my behind. I felt the energy in that room crackle the moment I came through the door.”
Normally I took my aunt’s eccentric ways with a grain of salt. She’d claimed to “read” energies and auras for as long as I could remember. Her and Scoot’s house always smelled from the sage she burned regularly, and she pulled out her tarot cards after every family dinner. Meditation was her answer for almost everything, from stress to the flu, if you just meditated, you’d be fine. And she was constantly trying to get us to “aligning our chakras”, whatever the hell that meant. I usually didn’t buy into any of it, but it was times like this when her insightfulness annoyed the hell out of me.
Keeping my back to her—because I knew she’d read me like a book if she saw my face—I moved to the fridge and started pulling out everything I needed to make dinner. “Then your senses must be off, because there’s nothing going on.”
“Honey pie, you know good and well I’m never wrong about these things. And oof.” She moved around the counter, coming closer to me so she could pick at of the air above my head. “You’re aura’s all hazy and dirty.”