Chapter Eighty-One
Phoenix
My son sobbed in my arms.
I didn’t know a worse fucking feeling.
Not death.
Death would be merciful compared to this.
Not that I deserved that kind of permanent reprieve. Two weeks in, and I was a horrible fucking parent because I couldn’t say if I knew about Isla’s history, I would’ve protected Lincoln from her. I couldn’t even say I never would’ve introduced them, casually or otherwise.
Isla was a force.
I was taken with her.
My son was taken with her.
For God’s sake, she’d asked Lincoln, within seconds of meeting him, what name he went by. I hadn’t.
What the fuck kind of father did that make me?
Isla made him pancakes. I’d done nothing except put Lincoln in the line of fire since I’d stepped out of that SUV in Virginia.
But I selfishly wasn’t going to take any of it back.
Linc pushed away from me and swiped at his face.
I apologized again. “I’m sorry.” Two words I’d never heard from my old man. Maybe it was a start. “I should’ve protected you from what happened tonight.”
His voice hoarse, but pitched back to its usual deepness, my son gave me his forgiveness with an uncomfortable shrug. “It’s okay.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and turned his shoulders inward. “You didn’t know.”
“It’s not okay.” Every part of his body language said it wasn’t. “But I’d like a second chance to make it better for you and me.”
Staring at the ground, he kicked at a rock. Then he called me on my shit—unobtrusively. “When was your first chance?”
“When you agreed to leave Virginia and come with me. When I took you from your grandmother.” The old woman was fucking unconscionable, but she’d taken my son in. She’d been present when he’d lost his mother.
“Gram isn’t really my grandmother.”
“Right.” I knew that, but I was just so fucking distracted. “Great-grandmother,” I revised. “Do you know what happened to your grandmother?” I did, but I wasn’t sure what his mother had told him.
“Yeah. She, um, died after my mom was born. Something about complications.”
Complications was an understatement. Premature childbirth at home after a fall down the stairs, from what I’d found.
Same damn house I’d taken him from. I still couldn’t believe the smiling young woman I vaguely remembered from the night he was conceived had come from that kind of history. “Life is complicated.”
He kicked another rock but didn’t respond.
I scrubbed a hand over my face. Then I went full door-kicker. “Isla left because she didn’t want to hurt us.”
His jacket dipped with the weight of his hands and his emotions as he tried to shove his fists deeper into the pockets. “I know.”
“Doesn’t make it easier, does it?”
He shook his head.
“When I was in BUD/S, we had two SEAL mottos drilled into us. The only easy day was yesterday and Never out of the fight. Both are intended as motivation. The first, I used to hate because I didn’t understand how it could possibly be motivating.
The second motto was easier. I got it, and I embraced it.
” I looked at my son. “A life worth living isn’t easy, Lincoln.
Love is hard, and it hurts like hell when you lose it, but we don’t get to choose who we love. It’s just given to us.”
Standing stock-still, he didn’t comment, and he didn’t look up.
I told him the only thing I was certain of about the woman inside that decrepit cabin who’d managed to trespass all over both of us.
“Isla is not out of the fight, Lincoln. She’s a warrior.
And if the only easy day was yesterday, then I’ll take a million tomorrows because yesterday you were distressed, and we didn’t know where Isla was.
So, personally, even though it may be more difficult, I’m always going to choose tomorrows.
Tomorrows mean I get to spend them with you.
They mean we’re together. You and I. Pact. ”
My son looked at me.
I gave him the autonomy I’d promised him on day one. “We can walk this path with Isla, or we can let her have her life. You get to decide what you want to do. I’ll have your six either way.” If I had to step it back with Isla, I would. But only for my son.
His eyes always his tell, they filled with anxiety. “I’m not making that decision.”
“You’re allowed your preference. Zero judgment. It’s just you and me on this cliff.” And a shit history between three people who were stronger together.
“That’s not fair.” He shook his head. “If I say we leave her alone, then you’ll be mad. But if I say we don’t, then she could, she could….” His voice pitched with panic. “She could die.”
I gripped his shoulder. “I’ll never be angry with you. Especially not on this.”
“We can’t just—just… talk about her like she’s a thing.”
And there was his decision. “If you knew what was going to happen to your mother, would you have wished for another mom?”
Linc jerked out of my grasp and looked at me with fury in his eyes. “Never. And don’t talk about Mom like that. Never talk about her like that!”
Pride swelled, and I nodded once. “Done, and I apologize.”
My son eyed me, but the anger tempered.
I raised an eyebrow. “Isla?”
He looked out at the ocean and shrugged.
I asked. “What would you say to taking her home with us?”
He took one of his deep inhales. Then he showed me exactly how big his heart was. “We can’t leave her here.” He glanced back toward the cabin. “Her place doesn’t even have heat, and I tried three times to get it working.”
I gripped his shoulder again, but this time, I brought my forehead to his. “She needs us, Lincoln.”
“Yeah,” he replied quietly.
“I need you.”
He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry I yelled.”
“I’m not.” I clapped him on the back, then stood to my full height and winked. “Let’s me know you care.”
Reminding me that he was a teenager, he rolled his eyes.
“Come on. Food, then sleep. Tomorrow, we’ll make a plan.” I turned toward the cabin, and my son’s anxiety bled out.
“What if she doesn’t want to come home with us?”
The upward tilt of my mouth was ill-timed and unplanned. I also didn’t stop it. My kid had called the house home. “We’re Nilsens. We’ll convince her.”
Lincoln shook his head, but he smiled back.