Chapter 19
Alexiana
I gently lay my head back against the wall as I pull my knees up and do probably the worst thing a mother could do, and eaves drop on my son, confiding in his father.
I don’t want to do it, I really don’t, but I’m at a loss on what to do.
For the past three days, he’s been depressed, not speaking much, barely eating, and the only time I see even a little bit of life in him is when he speaks to his father or when he watches me skate.
I feel like I’ve done something wrong. I feel like coming back to Rose Hill was probably a mistake.
When Hayes asked if he could ride home with Kayden, I’ll admit, I was nervous, scared even, I mean I nearly lost him to a gunshot for Christ sake.
I was hoping being on his daddy’s bike may bring a little bit of my old Kayden back.
The one we had before he was shot by an adult who is supposed to have everything together.
I was hoping the freedom I always felt being on the Harley would help my son, but it didn’t.
He barely spoke during dinner, and even Hayes was frowning at him.
“Talk to me, bud,” I hear my husband rasp, “Your mama said you were always full of smiles, always laughing, but the boy I’ve seen tonight hasn’t been anywhere near.”
I hear a sniffle, and my heart breaks when my son sobs, “I hurt Mama,” I squeeze my eyes tight, “She-she loves me so much she put me in football even if money was short, but I told her I hated her…”
Oh no…
“Kayden,” Hayes says, “she knows you didn’t mean it, and she understands that everything has been difficult. She understands that you were hurt and angry.”
“I-it isn’t okay, I-I was mean, and-and now I feel bad,” he cries, “What if she hates me?”
I flinch at his words, and my tears fall, my whole being wanting to rush into that room and comfort him, but my head knows I can’t.
He needs his father this time.
“Listen to me, and listen good,” Hayes states firmly, “Your mama loves you to the moon and back, the reason she breathes is you, she could never hate you. She understands why you were hurt and angry, and she’s not mad at you.”
I hear Kayden sniffle before he whispers, “I want to go to the house with you and Mama, I don’t want to be here anymore.”
I flinch again, not shocked that Rose Hill would be the last place he’d want to live, and not because his father is in Hill Crest, though it helps. He was shot, and he’s scared, and now I feel like I’m traumatizing my own child for wanting to stay here.
Damn… My stomach knots, and worry hits me.
Was this the wrong move?
“You know about the house?” Hayes asks softly, and I hear my son, our son, reply, “Mama said it was her favorite place on earth as long as you were there as well.”
Our son with no filter...
Crap.
“I want to go home, Daddy, but I don’t want Mama to hate me. I don’t want her to stay. I need her…” Kayden whispers, and my tears fall hard and fast. I close my eyes as their murmurs grow softer, Hayes tries to comfort our seven-year-old before things grow quiet, and I know Kayden is nearly asleep.
I should get up, I should act like I don’t know anything, but I don’t, I stay seated.
I hear soft footsteps, and I open my eyes just as Hayes walks out of Kayden's room. He softens seeing me, the tears staining my cheeks, and he bends and murmurs, “Come on, baby,” and takes my hands.
I allow him to help me up, but I remove his touch when I’m standing, making him sigh and follow me as I walk into the living area, taking a seat on the love seat, far away from the couch, and he sighs again.
“Has he been to school at all?” Hayes begins as he takes a seat on the couch closest to me, eyeing my hoodie. I shake my head as I wipe away the fallen tears with my sleeve, his sleeve…
“I didn’t think it would be appropriate to send him back to that school.
The kids and teachers want him to return, but he was shot, you know, our little seven-year-old shot, nearly died because of a deranged woman, and I couldn’t breathe with the thought of him returning there.
His principal agreed to virtual learning and has sent at least four months' worth of schoolwork, and my boss agreed to allow him to be at work,” I explain, and he nods.
“Nightmares?” he asks, and I nod and admit, “Every night he wakes up screaming and crying.”
He sighs as he leans back on the couch, his eyes taking in my apartment.
“Has he seen the therapist yet? He mentioned you signed him up to see someone,” he asks, as he eyes the photo of him and me on the mantel – our wedding day.
“First session was yesterday, apparently Mr. Garrels was more interested in asking our son if I was single,” I reluctantly admit, the man shouting in his office coming back to me as Hayes growls like a damn dog.
Sighing, I admit, “I ran into the room when I heard a shout, only to find Mr. Garrels bleeding. Your son punched him when he asked if he would be up for a step daddy.”
“Good kid,” Hayes mutters, and I roll my eyes.
“Stay focused, Hayes,” I snip, and he smirks.
“Sorry,” he says, though I don’t think he means it. He gets serious and asks, “What are the chances of you and him coming home?” I open my mouth, but he puts his hand up, which makes me narrow my eyes, and he says, “I don’t mean here either. This isn’t your home, and you know it, so does he…”
I clench my jaw, but Hayes continues before I can snap at him, “Freckles, being here, it’s too much for him and I know you have your job, I know you have the ice, and you were hoping he’d be able to heal but he can’t.
He sees that woman wherever he goes, he dreams about her, can you honestly tell me if he had nightmares in Hill Crest? ”
“He had one or two,” I admit with a whisper, and he nods.
“I hurt you, I know I did, believe me, I fucking do, I’m living with what I did, but our son,” he sighs, “You wouldn’t be moving back home for me.”
I swallow hard and look back at the photo of us, then the ones of Kayden as a baby.
It’s hard because here Kayden struggles, and in Hill Crest, I struggle, but I’d walk over hot coals for that boy, even if it means dealing with my heartbreak every day.
“Okay,” I whisper, and Hayes physically relaxes, but soon tenses when I add, “I’ll still be working, and we’ll be staying in separate rooms until I find a decent two-bed apartment or house.
Then we’ll have a custody arrangement put in place and have it tailored around your schedule with the club and your job. ”
I look at him to see his body is tight, his jaw ticking, and I wait for him. He has a decision to make, fight me on my terms and ensure we don’t go back to Hill Crest, or agree…
“Why not see into starting an ice-skating school?” he tries, and I look back at the pictures again.
“Because I can’t rely on you and I cannot afford it,” I admit, and he huffs, “Freckles, you never relied on me, you always had one foot out of the door!”
I look at him, and as soon as our eyes connect, I confess, “No, I didn’t, not in that sense anyhow. I only had a backup plan because I grew up needing one,” making him frown.
Pulling his sleeves over my hands, I sit forward, causing him to sit forward too, and I explain, “I married you, Hayes. You knew me, you know me. I was closed off, right?” he nods, “I kept you at a distance for seven months?” he nods again, “And I married you, meaning I let you in.”
“But you didn’t, if you did, you would have told me more about your childhood,” he accuses, but I shake my head.
“No, you don’t get it. I moved out of my mom's trailer, a home I was paying for, but stopped. I allowed myself to rely on you. I allowed you to become my support system. My childhood was my past, but you were my present and future, so why would I bring my past into it when I was so goddamn happy?” I whisper, and he frowns.
“Hayes, I was finally happy, you were all I was focused on, so I did, I let you in, I gave you my heart. I was ready to have a future with you instead of leaving, and you crushed me, and yeah, I get it, your dad was a cheating dick, but that didn’t give you the right to be a cheating dick as well. ”
He flinches as he looks down and rasps, “This is what we needed to speak about in therapy, our life, what I did, with someone in the middle.”
“Someone who would have gaslit me within half an hour just so a brother screwed her, and you know it,” I remind him.
He looks at me and asks, “So what do you want to do then if you’re not willing to see a professional?”
I swallow hard before I admit, “I don’t know Hayes, eight years is a long time.”
“It is, and it isn’t,” he replies, “I fucking love you, that has never changed, you are still my wife, still my old lady.”
I repeat, “Eight years, Hayes,” and he instantly replies, “And you still wear my hoodie.”
I sigh, but he isn’t finished, “You still love me, and I get it, you probably hate it, but that love is still there,” he leans forward and he pleads, “Please stop punishing me for a decision I made eight years ago when I’ve spent the entire time you disappeared mourning you, mourning us, begging for you to come home, punishing myself. ”
I shake my head because that decision broke me; it led to her ruining his chances of being a father, so I can’t stop.
Eight years, and my love for him still shines through, meaning the hurt is still there.
I don’t say anything, and Hayes sighs before looking back at the pictures. He asks, “Before we got together, you turned away seeing my cut, you had interest, but as soon as you saw the prospect patch, you told me no, why?”
I furrow my brows at him in confusion, and he smiles slightly before reminding me, “You won’t do therapy,” then admits, “I thought maybe we could just talk, like we used to, but this time, you talking about your childhood so I can see how to help you overcome the pain of what I did so I don’t lose you again. ”
My eyes race between his, seeing determination, and I look back at the picture.
Do I tell him?
Do I let him see why I’m so closed off so he can try to get back into my life, into my heart?
But did he ever even leave my heart?
No, he didn’t.
“I thought the Carnage may have been like the Chargers,” I admit, and he tenses but doesn’t say anything, allowing me to continue.
I explain, “Growing up my father was in and out of my life, nine times out of ten, he brought a mistress home and when he didn’t, he stunk of booze and women.
The day you gave me your cut, Mom allowed him back the night before despite knowing he was wanted for a suspected murder,” I look at my husband who refuses to be my ex-husband, “Mom always allowed him back in, even knowing he was bad news, even knowing he was with other women but he enticed her. He made her love the rebellion in him, and she didn’t care that he was a danger to me. ”
I swallow hard, and I ask, “Remember that day I came to school, the day you gave me your property patch, and I had that bruise?”
He nods and murmurs, “You said someone knocked into you with a door, and you hit your head with a metal tray.”
“I was hit with a metal tray, but it was my father who hit me with it because I refused to bend to his will,” I admit, and Hayes locks up, “I also stopped calling my mom when I moved because he was still there in the trailer, and I heard him arranging my marriage, or more like selling me, because he didn’t know about you at the time. ”
I take a deep breath. “My father, Hayes, who I always tried to never be around, and to always lock myself in my room, who gave my mom dirty money to open that shitty café of hers, has a cannon tattoo with blood dripping,” I confess, and he slowly closes his eyes.
“Fuck, the ambush…” He instantly remembers.
“I think mom told him about us as punishment because I stopped supporting her, while Chief Marshalls thinks it’s because you wouldn’t screw her,” I admit, and he leans back into the couch.
I take a deep breath, and I whisper, “My plan for years was to graduate high school and leave home. I had the job here planned out before you and I met, and I guess a small part of me did have one foot out of the door because I didn’t cancel it after we got together, or when we got married.
While part of it was because it was drilled in my head to have a backup plan, there was, I guess a small part of me that believed you were going to hurt me. ”
And that is one hell of a revelation to breathe through.
“I’m not giving up,” he chokes after a few minutes' silence. “I refuse to lose you again. I physically cannot fucking lose you again, because you are my fucking everything. Until you decide on a date to head back to Hill Crest, because I know you have responsibilities with your job, I won’t be returning. I’ll be staying here until you and our boy are back home where you belong. ”
My mouth parts as he stands and walks down the hallway towards Kayden's room and mutters, “Get ready, wife, because I’m done living without you, and god help your father if I ever see the prick.”
Crap, I think the demon has awoken, and no one will be safe in his path.
And why do I find that hot?
Double crap.