41. Posie
CHAPTER 41
Posie
“ W hat type of mother comes home this late?”
I jump at the familiar voice as I get out of the car. When I turn around, my heart falters. Bobbi is standing at the curb, smoking a cigarette. He flicks it away as he starts toward me. I freeze. Everything within me that I shoved down all those years ago resurfaces: the fear I felt around this man, the uncertainty of what he was going to do next, as he told me he loved me in one breath and hit me with the next.
But it’s not just me anymore, and I square up to my demon, even though I break on the inside, realizing he might’ve been watching the house the entire time I was with Dutton.
What if he…?
My jaw grinds, and then I’m startled as Amy opens the door and steps out with her bag over her shoulder. “He’s asleep. Good as always.” She offers me a wave, then stops when she sees Bobbi.
“I suggest you let her leave,” Bobbi whispers so only I can hear.
Fear grips me like a vise, but I find myself saying, “It’s fine, Amy, you can go.” She nods and glances at him one more time before she heads to her car.
As unpredictable as Bobbi is, my only saving grace is that it’s early in the evening, and people are still out walking their dogs or tending to their lawns. I absolutely fucking refuse to let him inside my home, even if he puts a gun to my head.
Bobbi steps closer, and I can smell the scent of cigarette smoke on him. I fucking hate that smell.
“It’s been a long time, Posie,” he says, looking like he’s aged fifteen years instead of six. How had I ever loved this man? I’m not sure what I found so attractive about him back then. Yes, he has that bad-boy vibe about him, but that’s it. He looks like he needs to shower, and his clothes look like they could do with a wash. I used to do his laundry, and I wonder who’s been doing it since I left.
I do have one thing for which I am grateful to him, though. He gave me the one thing I genuinely fucking love in this world.
“Has it?” I reply, making sure to harden my resolve and speak to him like I would any other man in the same way that I wouldn’t let Dutton walk all over me when we first met. I’m not the same woman I was six years ago.
He smirks. “Always with that sass.”
“You hated my sass,” I throw back at him. He rubs a hand over his chin and nods his head.
“Yes, but you learned,” he says. “You were a fast learner.” He glances at the house then. “Is my kid in there?”
My heart rate picks up. His kid . How could Bentley be his kid if he never worried about him? How can a child so pure and sweet have the same DNA as this violent, controlling man in front of me? “Cat got your tongue?”
I point my nose in the air. “He is my kid,” I tell him, hoping he doesn’t hear the shakiness in my voice.
“Yeah, a kid I told you to get rid of.”
“I did. I got rid of both of us. So you can leave now.”
“That’s not going to happen.” He smiles evilly. “I might have to be careful with how I handle you because of the Monti family, but let me assure you it won’t keep me away from my son. You know, paternal rights and all. I thought I’d pay a visit so we can establish some rules going forward.”
My nails dig into my palm as I bite out, “You have a kid back in Boston. Why are you really here? You don’t give a shit about him or me, so go back to your own fucking family!”
His smirk is full of venom. “So you stalked me? It looks like I’m not the only one who has struggled to move forward. And don’t worry about that bitch and kid; they’re just a temporary thing. You were always my main girl, you know.”
I scoff. “We never had a future, Bobbi. Not while you were fucking another woman and telling me not to worry about it. There is no us, and he is not your son. You think you were the only one fooling around?” I lie.
He steps into my space. I make sure not to flinch, but I’m preparing myself for the worst. A dog barks in a nearby yard, which seems enough for him to reassess his decisions. This neighborhood, although not the nicest, is far safer than the one we lived in together, and people here will call the police.
He goes to pinch a lock of my hair, but I slap his hand away. He just smiles.
“You know, she fell pregnant once before you did, and like a good girl, she listened when I told her to get rid of that kid. Turns out, it was too late to abort the second time, though. Even when I pushed her down the stairs, the kid survived. So I realized he was a tough little guy, just like me.”
My stomach twists with nausea. I hate this man so much that tears want to spring from my eyes.
I fucking hate you so much.
He smirks at my penetrating glare.
“Leave, Bobbi. No one wants you here. Least of all me,” I growl.
“Oh, yeah. I heard you were with a Taylor. You know who that family is, right?” I don’t bite at his antics. “They’re more dangerous than me, Posie. You want our son around that? Striker might’ve told me I can’t stir shit with them, but he has no place in the discussion between me and the mother of my child.”
“At least he knows their names,” I spit. Which I know I shouldn’t have done because his nostrils flare, and he bites the inside of his cheek, trying to keep his temper in check. We used to have a habit of fighting. We would both throw fists and then make up, swearing it wouldn’t happen again until it happened again.
I thought that was the type of love I deserved.
I thought that was all I was allowed to have.
Until Bentley.
Until Dutton , a small voice whispers.
“He doesn’t know my name because you ran,” he seethes, his foul breath covering my face.
“No, he doesn’t know your name because you are a shit human who told me to get rid of him! Go back to Boston!”
“I’m the shit human? And what is it you do for work, Posie?” he says, smirking. “What if I took you to court to fight for full custody? Surely, you couldn’t afford it. No one’s going to believe a whore who dances for money.”
I bite my tongue, doing my best not to react to his provocation.
“You don’t want him,” I grit. “You just want to get back at me.”
Then, a sly glint enters his eyes. “See, I knew you knew me. And you know I’ll do it to spite you.”
“They will choose me over you,” I insist.
“Oh no, sweetheart. My parents will be the ones fighting for him. I don’t have time for a full-time kid.” He winks and then turns, heading back to his bike.
His parents enabled his bad behavior. His father was a banker who made many good investments, enough that he can now live off them for the rest of his life. His mother is a housewife who idolizes her son, even if he is the devil himself.
“Bobbi,” I call after him. He turns around to face me. And there are so many things I want to say to him, but I bite my tongue. Lifting my hand, I flip him off. “Fuck you, you fucking loser. Take me to court. I dare you. With the amount of shit I have on you, no judge in their right mind would leave you out on the streets, let alone give you custody of a child.” That’s all it takes for him to stalk back up and slap me across my face. It stings, but I internally smile. “And now I have you on video,” I add smugly. He looks around, trying to spot the cameras. I’m even more grateful now for the cameras Dutton installed.
His hand shoots out to wrap around my throat, gripping it tight. “You think you’re so smart.”
I struggle to speak from how tightly he’s constricting my airway. “At least smarter than you,” I manage to wheeze, tasting my own blood.
He releases me and storms off. I stand there, making sure he gets on his bike, and then I run to my house, unlock the door, grab my bat, and relock the door. Peeking through the blinds, I hear his bike rumble to life before I see him drive off. And know I won’t be getting any sleep tonight at all. I run to Bentley’s room, where I find him already asleep, and quickly start throwing essentials into a bag.
But then I pause, my face throbbing.
Every part of me is screaming at me to run.
But he’ll only keep chasing.
I’ll never get rid of him unless I deal with him now. But the thought of him threatening to sue for custody or even being anywhere near Bentley…
I know I wanted to give Bentley the option to know his father, but do I really want him to be associated with a man who, without thought, would throw a woman down the stairs and hit his mother?
I sag as I sit against the wall and stare at my sleeping son, trying to ignore the tears streaming down my face. Because I’m fucking furious, I’ve given him this power over me.
I don’t want to run anymore.