Shattering
Fiona
Maybe I should just move into my therapist’s office permanently. I tie a towel around my hair and grab a robe before stepping out of the shower to pick up Dash.
“Do you know by instinct when I’m hurting myself, little man?”
He slaps my arm, which stings more than a little bit on my raw skin.
“I’m going to take that as a yes, even though we both know that isn’t possible. Are you ready for something to eat?”
Dash reaches up and makes a fist, which looks an awful lot like the sign for milk.
“You want some milk.” I repeat the sign, and his whole body shakes with excitement.
Has Daria been teaching him?
She doesn’t usually interact much with the kids I foster unless they’re older.
“Let’s get you your breakfast before work.”
Dash keeps dancing in my arms as I walk to the kitchen.
The doorbell rings when we’re almost there.
Who could that be this early? Did Daria and Knight make plans this morning? She’s not usually an early-morning type of person.
“Your breakfast will just have to wait one minute.” I go answer the front door. “MAX. What are you doing here?”
“Dad wanted to walk you to work this morning.” Hope steps forward. “Isn’t he sweet? Dash.” She holds her arms out to take the baby. “Did you have your breakfast yet?”
He does the fist open and close thing again.
“I swear Dash learned the sign for milk.” But it’s impossible.
“That’s because he did.” Hope repeats the sign. “Dad taught him. We’re all learning sign language. Let’s go get you your milk.”
WHAT? I turn to Max. “You’re learning to sign? And you taught Dash?”
Max grins at me and takes a step forward.
That smile. I know that smile. I step back.
Before I can get any farther, he lands a quick peck on my lips. “Good morning, tesoro mio.”
“My head is spinning.” Why did I say that out loud?
“Good. You look beautiful this morning. I love your outfit.” His voice is pitched low enough that no one else can hear.
A blush steals its way up my face.
“Though I enjoy that outfit, you might want to go get changed before work.”
Changed? I’m still in my robe. “Beast,” I whisper.
He has the nerve to chuckle.
Can he tell? This covers you from neck to toes. No one knows. This time wasn’t bad. Maybe I shouldn’t even tell my therapist. I’ll probably only be slightly sore today.
“Where’s your head right now, Fiona?”
“Huh?”
“Wherever your head just went, it wasn’t good. We should talk about it.”
Talk to Max…about that…never. “I need to go get dressed for work.”
“Go get ready, but we will have that talk.”
The irksome man is way too confident, and also wrong in this case. We won’t be having that conversation.
***
I should tell him to stop.
I should pull my hand away.
I should do something to stop my heart from getting so attached to this man.
Instead, my heart is thumping so fast as we walk towards the bakery hand in hand. It wants to believe that this cozy picture could be my future. This is all a dream that’s going to come crashing down, crushing me beneath the never-ending pain of its loss.
We stop at the back door of the bakery.
“I’ll just go in and say hi to everyone.” Hope sneaks away, leaving me alone with her dad and Dash.
“What are you two going to do today?” What a stupid question to ask.
“We’re going to go to the park, learn some more sign language, and do a bit of coding.” He takes a step forward.
“Don’t even think about it.” I put a hand on his chest to hold him back. “We’re in a public place with a lot of kids around.”
“Don’t care.” He grins.
Did I really think he would? “This is my place of business.”
“Do you want to go to my office? We can do it there, too.”
“You torment me.”
“I love you. But if you want to call it that, let me torment you some more.” His lips come down on mine.
If I didn’t already love the taste of coffee, I would now. Almost as much as I love kissing him.
A little palm pats me on my cheek, and I step back. “Thank you for walking me to work.”
“It was my pleasure, tesoro mio.”
***
“Do you think I should ask Raid out?” Cammie smiles into her cup of coffee.
Why did I end up saying yes to talking to her? No, I don’t think you should ask one of the feral boys out. You’re too sweet for them. “What would your therapist say?”
Cammie frowns. “I’m not asking her. I’m asking you. You’re in love. You’d understand how I feel.”
How in the world would I do that? My abuse was completely different. “I can feel empathy for your situation, but I can’t truly understand what you went through or how you’re coping with it. Only you know that.”
“Why can’t you just give me an answer?” She pouts as she takes a sip.
“Because part of being an adult and making adult choices is actually making them. Especially when you already know the answer.”
“But he’s so cute. That hair of his…His eyes…I could live for his smile. Did you notice his teeth are perfectly straight?”
Shoot me. Please shoot me. This is the part of teenage drama that’s the cutest and the most nauseating.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the hot mama,” the addicts’ leader walks in shouting.
They’ve been quiet since they arrived. This…This feels different.
“Go into the kitchen and lock it down. Bring Autumn with you,” I whisper as I stand up.
Cammie nods and rushes off, pulling Autumn off the register.
The good thing about street kids is that they recognize trouble. The restaurant empties out in a blink except for me and the addict leader.
Hopefully, I can redirect the kid. “Would you like something to eat?”
“You know what I want. I want another hit of the good stuff. But I’m certainly not going to get that here, and he’s not going to give me any until you leave.
So here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to break things until you agree to leave.
” He lifts up a chair. “We’ll start small, but if you don’t get smart, I’m going to start breaking those pretty little things in the kitchen.
” He smashes the chair into the glass covering our pastries.
The urge to run and hide is strong, but maybe I can get him to stop before security arrives. “We can go to the clinic. They can give you stuff to help.”
“That stuff doesn’t help.” He tosses the chair through the front window, shattering it into a million pieces.
“That stuff is trash. I don’t want to get clean.
” He flips over the chairs and tables near him.
“Being clean isn’t fun. I want the good stuff.
And you’re going to give it to me.” His eyes glitter as he turns towards the kitchen.
“Those girls are awfully pretty. Do you think they’ll scream much when I hurt them? ”
Over my dead body will you touch them. “You need to stop and think about what you’re doing. There’s still a chance for you to change your path. But if you try hurting them…”
The leader laughs. “You think I’m afraid of you? Stupid little mama. My boss hurts girls like you every day of the week. You’re nothing but trash to him. A napkin for him to wipe his feet on and toss away.”
How many times had words just like those been said to me? “We can protect you from him.”
“You and what army?” He shakes his head. “You can’t protect me. I don’t want protection. All I want is a hit of the good stuff.” His hands tremble as he picks up one of the chairs he kicked to the ground and throws it through the other window. “I WANT MY DRUGS!”
When kids have outbursts like this, we usually let them just burn themselves out, but this isn’t a trauma response. This was planned and orchestrated. “We can keep you safe.”
“Like you protected this place. Where is your security? Huh? Where are they now? No one is protecting you. I could do anything I want to you. There’s no one here to stop me.”
If my guess is right, they’re following protocol, making sure all the kids on The Street are safe. “Someone is going to walk in that door any moment.”
“Yeah, right. You’re all alone. And I’m going to make you see how important it is that you do what I want.” A knife appears in his hand.
Oh no. I had hoped there was a chance to settle this without any violence. That might not be an option anymore. My hand goes to a dirty knife on the table next to me.
The front door opens as the leader takes a step towards me.
“I thought I made it clear that she was off limits.” Max’s voice is calmer than I expected it to be.
But his face…That’s another story. If I were the kid, I’d turn tail and run in the opposite direction. It might be a good idea, anyway. The rage pouring off Max is tangible.
“My boss wants her gone. He has no beef with you.”
“She’s mine.”
“Yours?”
“Fiona Shaw is mine. There’s one law in this world that stands above all others. You don’t ever touch a Vincenti woman. Your boss just got himself into a war that he won’t win.” Max stalks over to me. “Did he touch you?”
What the kid intended to do wouldn’t help the situation. “I’m fine.”
Max shakes his head and bends over.
Suddenly, I’m flying up in the air and over his shoulder.
“The kid is all yours,” Max shouts to Maddox as he walks to the door.
“You can put me down.”
The man completely ignores me and keeps walking.
“Hope is in the back of the bakery. We need to go get her and tell her she’s safe.” Those kids must be so scared.
“She’s not there. We evacuated them first. Dash is with her in Maddox’s office.” Max keeps walking down the street.
“You can put me down,” I repeat. Bouncing down the street on his large shoulder isn’t my ideal form of transportation.
“No.”
Someone sounds a little grumpy.
“I’ve got to be feeling a bit heavy.”
“Fiona,” he growls.
Fine. “You know this makes you a neanderthal.”
“Don’t care.” He totally wouldn’t.
“It can’t be good for your hands. They’re only just starting to heal.”
There’s a laugh from somewhere near us.
I pick my head up to see a half a dozen Adders just watching this happen. “Some friends you are.”
They have the nerve to laugh harder.
Max sets me down as we enter the lobby of Maddox’s office building. He cages me in against the wall. “What were you thinking?”
“Hope was safe. I made sure she was safe.”
“Woman, why weren’t you safe with her? You should have sought shelter with the kids. Instead, you told them to get safe while you stayed with the dead man.”
“He isn’t a man.”
“I don’t care what he was. He had a knife and was threatening to hurt you. What you’re supposed to do is seek shelter and let security deal with him.”
“That kid wasn’t a real threat.”
The vein on the side of Max’s neck pops out. “You never know what an addict can do. They’re unpredictable. Why am I even fighting with you? You don’t engage. You seek shelter and let me come for you. End of discussion.”
This overprotective man is getting on my nerves. “I am not a weak, helpless child.”
“No, you’re the woman I love. You’re my entire world. Let me protect you. Woman, let me do my job caring for you. It doesn’t matter what you could have done. I need to know that you’re safe, always.”
The sentiment is sweet. “You can’t put me in a protective bubble. Bad things happen.”
“Not to you, they don’t. Not anymore.”
If only that were true. I place my hand on his cheek. “I love you too.”
“Saying it isn’t going to get you out of trouble.” He smiles at me anyway. “But you can say it again.”
“I love you.” That little ball of dread builds in me. How long can I handle waiting for him to find out?