Dropping Bombs and Breaking Hearts
JOSEPHINE
The anticipated rumble grows louder, pushing through the crevices usually reserved for spiders and roaches to make their way into our home.
The steady hum would usually have me flinging the front door wide, waiting for the air to settle and reveal my man finally making it home.
Except my body’s frozen, hands gripping the edges of the back window, feet planted like the old oaks scattered on our property.
Haley’s too preoccupied with her new best friend—Trenton—still woefully unaware of their connection.
She’s been leading him around all morning, showing him how to care for the animals, the garden, anything she thinks is interesting enough to keep the attention of a boy ten years older than her.
He adorably obliges, showing a bit of his unguarded character.
After he let his walls down in the kitchen the other night, he’s been the perfect house guest, but it hasn’t been any easier for my heart seeing him in our space.
It’s not his fault. He’s an innocent boy caught up in the mess of two adults who didn’t have their shit together.
So I try my best to keep my tone light and my eyes free of judgment.
But I know the moment Vik walks through the front door, I won’t be able to hide my ire under the pretense of hospitality.
I haven’t spoken to my husband in almost seventy-two hours.
I can’t remember the last time we’ve—no, in the almost six years since the day we met, we’ve never gone more than a few hours without a text at the very least. I know he’s probably confused and likely scared, not knowing what the hell’s going on, but his feelings aren’t my priority right now.
Both Pierce and Blaze have been by, but when I wouldn’t let them in, they walked the property, looking for god knows what, before they sat for a while on the front porch with Bear before finally taking off.
Let them think the worst. I’m not one of the guys in the club, looking to fuck anything that’s willing to bend over and take it. Things for us are on shaky ground, but another man in my bed while his ring still sits firmly on my finger isn’t the type of woman I’ll ever be.
Haley points to something off in the distance, pulling on Trenton’s hand, leading him further away from the house. It’s likely the little treehouse the guys built for her birthday last year. When they presented it to her, she immediately conned them into painting it bright pink.
His engine cuts off, and the bird song resumes through the open windows. Every muscle from my shoulders to my toes tenses, waiting for the door to crash open. It comes moments later, paired with boots thudding down the front hall.
“Josie!” his roar echoes through the house, battering against my eardrums.
I keep my eyes glued out the window, even as the air shifts when he finds me.
I’ve played this out in my head for days, mulling over how to have this conversation.
I could scream or break down. Be rational and just talk to him.
Instead, my vocal cords instantly numb, refusing to rub together to give my voice free rein.
His steps slow, hesitant to close the space between us. Then he’s there. The heat of his skin and leather from baking in the sun on his ride back into town. The smell of exhaust and open road wafts from his thick arms, closing in around me.
Any other time, I’d be a puddle of goo, melting into the familiarity of everything that is my husband, but right now, I just wish it wasn’t all so overpowering.
He cages me in, not saying a single word as his nose drags along my exposed neck.
“Are you going to tell me what the fuck I did for you to ice me out for three days, mama? Or do I need to drag you to our bedroom, tie you down, and fuck the answer from you?” he growls.
I ignore the way my pussy clenches at his threat. I won’t let her take the lead, cloud my head, and unshatter my heart with something as simple as a good fuck.
I step away from his golden cage to try and find the space I so desperately need, but there isn’t any to be found against the window. Ducking under his taut forearm, I escape across the room, keeping my eyes on the yard, to avoid his glacial gaze.
“Haley’s home,” I state, diving deep for the strength to get those two simple words up my throat when there’s so much more we need to discuss.
“Great, she can watch a movie while we talk.”
“She’s not alone.”
“I doubt Pierce and Lexi will care if Sienna watches a princess movie.” His tone is steady, destroying every excuse I lie at his feet.
“It’s not Sienna,” I whisper, knowing we’re edging the danger zone.
“I don’t care who it fucking is, Josie. We need to talk. Jesus, you won’t even look at me, baby,” he croaks, voice full of emotion.
My head shakes unprompted, pressure builds behind my eyes, threatening to spill across my lashes. If I let them fall, they’ll drown us all.
“Look.”
“I haven’t stopped looking at you since I walked in this house.”
“Not me. Outside. The playhouse.” My curt responses are the best I can muster.
His boots stomp against the floor, bypassing me for the other side of the kitchen table that offers a better view of that side of the yard.
“You finally hired someone to help with the outside chores?”
A defeated laugh puffs from my chest. He can’t see it yet. But up close it’s undeniable. Trenton looks just like his father. Spitting image. A twin, twenty-plus years younger than him.
“Who’s Miranda, Vik?” I ask, finally turning to take in my husband. I need to see the look on his face, but it’s blank and clueless.
“Miranda who, woman? What the hell are you going on about?” he asks, closing the space between us, but my arms shoot out, stopping his approach.
Fuck, I don’t know her last name. Not only did she give her son my husband’s first name, but she also gave him his last. For a woman who didn’t seem interested in introducing them when she was alive—to my knowledge—she sure as hell made him well-equipped to come searching the day she left this world.
I wonder if that was her plan all along.
My hysterical laughter bubbles free. There’s no stopping it. My body doubles over, core tightening, until the tears from earlier fall freely. This is so fucked.
“I don’t know her last name.” I huff through a dying last laugh. “But think back about fifteen years. Gorgeous leggy brunette, used to hang around the club, if the photo I saw was to be believed.”
Worry etches between his brows as he watches me lose my mind. Then clarity replaces it, and he pales. An impressive feat with his naturally milky complexion.
That’s what I thought.
“What’s this about?” he asks, catching the lip of the kitchen table.
Before I can answer, the back door crashes open.
“Daddy!” Haley squeals, launching herself at her dad’s legs.
Vik’s distracted for a moment, but her shadow follows cautiously, closing the door with a haunting latch that steals everyone’s attention.
“Daddy, look, I made a new friend. His name’s Trenton.”
Vik’s gaze stalls, then swings to me and back to his son. It’d be comical if the realization of the puzzle pieces slipping into place wasn’t an a-bomb imploding my perfect little life.
Shaking my head, I reach out my hand toward Hals. “Hey, baby, let’s go make some lunch.”
She scowls her displeasure of being swindled away from her dad, who’s been gone for days. But right now isn’t the right time for Vik and me to have this conversation. Whether I like it or not, these two need to sit down and figure their shit out first.
Vik ruffles her hair and then scoots her in my direction without taking his attention off Trenton, whose hands are shoved back in that damn black hoodie.
“Talk. We’ll be in the kitchen, then I think I’ll take Haley over to Lexi’s for the afternoon. You have my number if you need me, Trenton.”
I shouldn’t be his support in this situation, but I feel a kinship with him.
After the last couple of days slowly getting to know each other, the similarities of our single mom upbringing are so jarring, I’m pretty sure they triggered a few repressed memories, if the nightmares I’ve been bombarded with are anything to go on.
His shoulders relax and pull back, looking a little more sure of himself. He nods and gives me a sad smile before I squeeze Haley’s hand and back away into the walled-off kitchen.