49. Posie
CHAPTER 49
Posie
B efore I pick up Bentley, I make sure I have layers of makeup on, and I wear dark sunglasses so there is no speculation about what’s happening with me at home. I’m not sure how I would answer any questions regarding the bruising on my face. How do you explain that your ex-boyfriend threatened you and hit you, and the person you’re currently… sleeping with plans to kill him?
Bentley draws and paints most of the afternoon as I wander around the house, cleaning things just to keep myself busy because I don’t know what else to do. A part of me wants to know what Dutton is doing to Bobbi, while the other part is scared to find out the answer.
Just as the sun sets, there’s a knock on my door. I take a deep breath before I answer it. I’m not going to lie; I assumed it would be Dutton. But when I pull open the door, it’s an older version of him staring back at me.
Dawson smiles at me, then his gaze flicks from my eyes to my jaw and then back again.
He doesn’t look thrilled at what he sees. He has that same hard line on his forehead that Dutton sometimes gets when he’s angry or contemplating something.
“Dutton asked us to stop by,” he says.
“You didn’t have to come,” I tell him, just as Honey, who I didn’t see, comes up beside him with a bag of food.
“Hello, Posie. I hope it’s okay if we join you for dinner. We brought food.” She holds up the bag, and Bentley runs out, spotting Dawson. Dawson scoops him into his arms as Bentley starts telling him about his day. I hold the door open for them, welcoming the distraction. I know they’re here to ensure we’re safe, which fills me with so much love and gratitude that I don’t even know how to process it.
I feel like I’m not so alone. Going forward, I already know I don’t have to fight my battles alone.
Once again, I feel like part of a family.
Honey says something, but I don’t hear her at first. Then, it registers that she is asking where the kitchen is. I wave my hand in that general direction, and as she passes me, she grabs my hand and gives it a small squeeze.
Dawson’s already sitting on the living room floor, where Bentley shows him how to paint something. And I notice that my anxiety eases now that they’re here. I guess this is what it’s like to have support from people who love you.
I don’t even have to question whether they accept Bentley and me because they have from the moment they meet us. My sense of self-preservation and fear prevented me from seeing that.
I follow Honey into the kitchen, where I find her searching through cabinets for plates. I point to where they are.
“So, I bake. It’s what I enjoy and what I do when I’m stressed,” she says as she pulls out a tray of cupcakes. “How are you holding up? And please don’t tell me everything’s okay. I know what it’s like to be a mother and worry about my child.”
That’s exactly what I was going to tell her, but a lump forms in my throat, and instead, I choke out, “I’m sorry.” Her eyes widen, and she puts the tray down. I’m startled when she wraps me in her arms. I awkwardly hug her back, whispering, “I’ve caused a lot of trouble for you all.”
“You haven’t caused any trouble for us,” she says, leaning back so I’m forced to look at her. I laugh at myself as I wipe my eyes. “Have you forgotten that our family’s middle name is trouble?”
“But you didn’t have to do any of this for me. I know what it might cost your family.”
“It costs us nothing. We look after our own, no matter what,” she says adamantly. “Posie, you have my gratitude.”
“What?” What did I do to deserve that from her?
Honey bites her bottom lip as if she’s unsure as to whether she should continue. She squeezes my arm as she focuses on the food in front of her. “I was worried for my son. I thought he was closing himself off to the possibility of having a life like this.”
“Like this?” I ask curiously, leaning against the counter and wiping beneath my eyes.
“With someone he loves,” she clarifies.
My stomach drops because a small part of me is still so scared that this could be ripped away from me. What if I make the wrong choice? It’ll impact Bentley as well.
“Dutton was an easy child growing up. Too easy. He was inquisitive and intelligent but mischievous and calculated. And he was very protective of his sister. That ease, we realized, was him acting in the ways he thought was expected of him. As a teenager, he became a little less easy to control. Not that we wanted to control him, but we guided him to stop picking fights with everyone, so he did stop… publicly, that was,” she says, eyeing me, and I can’t help but smile.
“He became more distant in adulthood and only focused on following in his father’s footsteps. I don’t think Dutton realizes it himself, but he adopted all the good qualities from Dawson, readying himself to be a provider and protector. But whenever we asked if he met anyone, I felt the moment he shut down as if that wasn’t a viable option for him. It felt like he hated something about himself, and that terrified me. Looking back, we probably didn’t have the right conversations around it,” she admits. “But even when they’re adults, your children are still your children. You want to guide them as best as possible and see them happy. It’s been a while since I’ve seen my son genuinely happy. Not until you came along, Posie.” She plates up two cupcakes. “He’d never brought a woman around to meet us before you.” She smirks. “And Billie told me he asked you to marry him.”
“How did she know that?” It slips out of my mouth before I can pull it back.
“One thing I’ll give you a heads-up on is that this family is nosy. We’re always in each other’s business, but we mean well. In short, Dutton asked Eli for advice, which was overheard by Hawke, who told Billie, who asked me about it.”
I stare at her, trying to follow the chain of events. And then I recall someone saying Hawke has a big mouth.
“He didn’t propose.” My eyebrows furrow. “Well, he sort of did. He kind of said it in the moment. I wouldn’t really call that asking. Getting down on one knee and making a heartfelt speech is how you are meant to ask someone to marry you.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” She smiles.
“It’s not just me I have to think about. I have to consider Bentley as well,” I say, peeking into the living room at Dawson and Bentley painting. I hug myself.
She places a hand on my arm. “I understand that. And so does my son. But you make sure he asks you properly. No loopholes or half-assery. And I certainly expect a wedding. But not until you’re ready. No matter what happens, Posie, we’re your family if you’ll have us. We’re not going anywhere.”
I take a sharp breath, trying my hardest not to break into a million pieces. As if knowing, Honey collects the two plates and takes them out to Dawson and Bentley. “What are you painting?” I hear her ask.
Tears well in my eyes as I realize that it might’ve once been my parents doting on Bentley and me. Something I think about more than I care to admit because it’s something I can’t change. For so long, it had only been Bentley and me, and now the expansion of our family feels like it’s flooding my lungs with a breath of relief and grief.
When I initially moved away after I found out I was pregnant, I only looked forward. I left Bobbi in the past, and never did I think that being confronted by him again would make me feel like that scared and angry teen again. I hated that my parents were so easily and quickly taken from me.
I was in survival mode, cultivating every moment preciously, like time was about to run out.
In all those years, the only good thing that happened was Bentley.
And then I met Dutton.
When I first met him, I just assumed he was a stuck-up asshole who had more money than he knew what to do with, and so he decided to open a strip club. Granted, he’s still an asshole, but he has so many good qualities that lie hidden under the surface.
Today, I made a decision I never thought I’d make—taking away Bentley’s right to ever meet his father. And I’m scared he’ll hate me one day for it. But deep in my heart, I know it was the right decision. I just needed a bigger monster who had my back to help me make that difficult choice.
To pick up the blade when I was too weak to slay the demon while I created a sanctuary for him to return to.
When Bentley finishes his cupcake, Honey starts to tidy up the mess. Dawson stands and smooths the front of his pants down before he looks at me.
“Dutton is here,” he says.
“Come on, Bentley, let me see where your room is,” Honey says, taking his hand and leading him to the hallway. Bentley practically drags her to his room.
“Can I show you the bed me and Dutton made? It’s in Mommy’s room. And then I can show you my new LEGO set.” He barely takes a breath while chattering to her.
“That sounds exciting,” Honey replies excitedly. And I’m grateful for her because I don’t know what to expect with Dutton’s arrival. But I’ve decided to love the monster for all his glory. Not just the bits I don’t want to confront. But in the near future, there definitely will be a conversation about no blood or funny business in front of Bentley.
I open the front door as Dutton gets out of the car. His eyes find mine, and I walk toward him, relief sweeping through me that he looks perfectly fine—maybe a little tired but in one piece. He holds his arms out for me, and I pick up my pace, wrapping my arms around him as I step into his embrace. He cups the back of my hair and holds me tightly.
For a moment, we just stand here, holding one another, until I finally whisper, “Is he dead?”
“He’s gone, Mostriciattola ,” he says, petting my hair. I hold him tighter, the wave of relief immediately slipping off me. Am I selfish for being happy that I have an out like this? Not every woman has someone who would literally kill for her. But I’m grateful that my cold-hearted man found me and never gave up.
“How is Bentley?” he asks, changing the subject.
“He’s good. He’s showing your mother his room.”
He nods, and I notice he’s changed his clothes.
“Did you get blood on your other clothes?” I ask, nodding to his shirt. He smirks and glances at me as he hooks an arm over my shoulders and leads me back to the house. Dawson is standing by the door, waiting. He and Dutton exchange a brief glance and nod as if silently communicating something.
“Did you save me some food? I’m starving,” he says to his father. I go to slip into the kitchen to grab him a plate, but he grabs me around the waist and pulls me into him. “Stop worrying. I got you.” And for the first time, I believe that.
“Come in and eat,” Dawson says.
I step back just as Dutton kisses my forehead and whispers, “I’d rather have my dessert.” And I know exactly what he’s talking about. Shaking my head, I turn and walk to the kitchen. His arm stays around my waist.
I decide to leave Dutton and Dawson alone in the kitchen to speak for a few minutes, and I go check up on Bentley. It’s late in the evening, close to Bentley’s bedtime. Honey is sitting on the bed with him, reading a book. She glances up when I walk in.
“Dutton loved me reading to him every night,” she explains. Bentley is rubbing his eyes tiredly.
“Can Mrs. Honey finish the story before the bath?” he asks.
“Sure, sweetie.” I smile at him and then step back into the hallway. When I do, Dutton is there, grabbing me from behind and turning me before his soft lips, which are known to be ruthless when speaking to others, land on mine in a gentle kiss. When he kisses me, he takes my breath away, and I can’t help but press into him. He cups my cheek tenderly, being careful of my jaw. When he ends the kiss, he looks down at me.
“Marry me,” he whispers. This time, I smile at him and shake my head.
“Stop asking me like that.”
He raises a brow in question.
“She wants you to get on one knee and make it romantic,” Honey calls out from the bedroom. I cover my mouth with my hand to stop the laughter as Dutton frowns.
“Romantic?” he asks. “I suck at romance.”
I lay my hand on his chest.
“You actually don’t. So try harder, and the answer might be different.” I grin up at him before I step out of his grasp.
“That’s just teasing,” he grumbles, following me back to where his father is seated in the kitchen. Having these two powerful men in my small home feels strange, but I’m realizing it’s something I’ll have to get used to.