CHAPTER 10
HAVEN
As Wilde climbs into bed next to me, I’m expecting him to jump on me dive-bomb style. But he doesn’t. It’s as if he knows my heart and mind are in turmoil and he reacts appropriately by snuggling into my side.
He’s been very affectionate and gentle with me for the last week. I can’t say I hate it. It’s been beyond sweet and exactly what I needed.
For the last week I’ve only been able to think about two things—Knox and our next move which has to include leaving Safe Home. I’m not ready to leave Colorado though, I know that much to be true.
For the last year, every place we’ve stopped hasn’t felt quite right. That didn’t mean I wasn’t going to take advantage of what was being offered to us—safety, support, therapy, strength. I was more than willing to soak every bit up and help Wilde do the same. Then it was time for us to move on.
I’m not feeling the need to move on here. Not in the same way.
After running a hand down Wilde’s back, I murmur, “I thought you’d be too excited for a snuggle this morning.”
He huffs out a breath, but there’s no annoyance or frustration in the sound. “I am excited,” he admits. “Knox is coming for our class this morning and we’re drawing a treasure box.” He looks up at me, his voice rising slightly, “Do you think it’ll be covered in gems and be all sparkly?”
I make a humming sound, my eyebrows hitting my hairline. “I don’t know,” I start, “Knox doesn’t strike me as a sparkly kind of guy.”
Wilde shakes his head in disappointment. “I think he looks like a guy who likes sparkles.” He narrows his eyes at me and my judgement. “Are you saying that because he wears plaid? Or is it the beard?”
“You know,” I backpedal swiftly, “I shouldn’t have judged Knox without really knowing him. We’ve talked a lot about how the way someone looks doesn’t tell us anything about the person they are.”
“You forgot for a moment,” Wilde offers with far more kindness than I deserve.
“I guess I did,” I admit with a frown. “Thank you for reminding me.”
Wilde nods in a way that feels like a punch to the center of my chest. It’s a glimpse into the man he’s going to become. And I know it’ll happen far faster than I want it to. Hell, it’s happening right in front of my eyes, even if the process still has years to go.
Every moment feels like sand slipping between my fingers.
Some might say he’s only four. While true, now, it won’t always be the case.
Suddenly, he’ll be 14 and I’ll be dreading the years in front of me because every day is one step closer to him going out and making this life his own. It’s what he’ll need to do, but still.
I take a deep breath and try not to get ahead of myself. Wilde’s eyebrows pull together in the way they always do when he’s thinking hard about something.
“Is it wrong that I judge him?” His voice is quiet and cautious. The weight he puts on the word ‘him’, lets me know exactly who he’s talking about.
I freeze for a moment because this is the first time Wilde has mentioned him directly. I’m almost not sure what to say. But being his mom means having hard conversations and not running scared from them. He deserves nothing less.
“No,” I assure him. “It’s different when someone has scared you. You don’t owe someone like that anything.”
“Not even my kindness?”
He looks into my eyes, and I can see how much he needs to hear my answer, how much this has been weighing on him. “No,” my tone is fierce. “You don’t owe him your kindness. Not after everything.”
Wilde swallows hard and nods before snuggling deeper into my side. “Good. I didn’t want to give him kindness.” His voice drops to a whisper, “He hurt you. I’ll never forgive him.”
My eyes slide closed as I fight to hold back tears. None of the past should have touched him. I hate that it did, but I also can’t change it now. Ignoring it won’t do anyone any good, especially not Wilde.
Hopefully, those memories will fade as we make new ones.
“You don’t owe him forgiveness if you don’t want to give it. You just have to make sure not giving it doesn’t hurt you,” I speak gently, hoping his heart doesn’t harden too much too soon. He deserves the freedom of ignorance, of peace, of bliss.
“I don’t think about him very much anymore,” he admits sheepishly. I breathe through the pang of regret in my chest because it has nothing to do with him and everything to do with me.
“That’s okay,” I reassure him while hoping, again, for a day when he doesn’t remember any of it.
Quiet wraps around us and I’m thankful when he doesn’t pull away. I’m sure it’ll be coming soon, but I soak up this moment for a little while longer. Is it for him? For me?
Does it even matter?
“You like Knox,” there’s no accusation in Wilde’s words, only truth.
I startle slightly and my son giggles like he knows he’s just thrown me off completely and it amuses him. The little bugger. When I tickle him in retaliation, his shriek of delight is one of the best sounds ever.
“Mommy,” he admonishes through his laughter. “I’m serious.”
When I stop tickling him, it takes him a few moments to get his laughter under control. I’m hopeful he’s forgotten all Knox related conversation, but I should have known better.
“Knox likes you too,” there’s still amusement filling his little voice.
“The only guy I’m worried about is you,” I try and deflect.
Wilde isn’t letting that stand. He looks up at me with his face all screwed up indignantly. “Mommy,” he holds the word out like I’m the one being insufferable. “You need someone nice. Someone who really likes you.” He looks away and admits quietly, “Knox likes me, I think.”
My heart sinks as I squeeze my son against my side a little tighter. “Of course he likes you,” I insist. “You’re the most amazing kid I’ve ever met.”
He lets out a groan and rolls his eyes like a teenager instead of the four-year-old he is. “You have to say that because you’re my mom and you love me,” he points out simply.
“But that doesn’t mean I’ll lie to you,” I point out. “We’ve promised each other honesty and that means all the time. I’ve met some pretty cool kids this last year and I am your mom, but to say you’re the bestest kid is me telling you the truth.”
“Is bestest a word?” He challenges me, but I can see the happiness dancing in his eyes.
“It is now.”
Wilde starts to laugh while gasping out, “You’re silly.”
“Only because I have you for a kid,” I throw right back at him.
When he gets himself under control, there’s a threat in his voice, “The treasure box better be sparkly.”
“It does need to be fit for a dragon,” I sigh, agreeing with his sparkly requirement.
“You get it,” he agrees with a big smile on his face.
When I hold my hand up, he doesn’t hesitate to high-five me. The sound isn’t quite as satisfying as it could be and Wilde frowns. Knowing what is coming, I hold my hand up again.
“Yeah, that wasn’t as good as it could have been,” I encourage him.
I swear he winds up in his head and when he high-fives me this time, the sound is loud in the room and my hand stings. After shaking out the feeling, I give him an appraising look as he covers his mouth, and his giant smile, with both his hands.
“Ow, Wilde,” I play it up with my voice. “You aren’t supposed to take my hand down. I’m going to need it later.”
With a gasp, my hand drops down to the bed behind him.
Unable to contain his delight any longer, my son laughs uproariously.
The sound washes over me and fills in some of the cracks that I haven’t been able to fully heal yet.
It’s not a sound I would have heard when we were living under his rules and authority.
Now, his laughter is so much easier, and I hear it more and more. It was true before we came to Safe Home, but something about being here has unlocked something inside of my son. His lightness has only increased over the last few weeks since the art class started.
The way he’s been able to express himself through art makes me wish I had his talent. Or maybe it’s better I don’t have it. He deserves something that is just his.
“Come on,” I urge even though I don’t let go of him to allow him to move away from me, “it’s time to start the day.”
“Is there enough time for breakfast before art class?” His voice is super serious, and his chin hits his chest as he looks at me.
“Like I would allow you to go to art class, where you’re Knox’s assistant, without feeding your tummy and brain,” I scoff.
He grins at me and then hops out of bed. As much as I want to snuggle back into my pillow, I don’t allow myself to do it. It would be so easy. Well, if Wilde would let me get away with it. He won’t.
It takes us a few minutes to get up and get dressed, but then we’re making our way towards the kitchen. Wilde slips his hand into mine and I fucking melt for this kid. He’s the sweetest and while, yes, I am biased, you can’t argue facts.
When we hear a male voice in the kitchen, we both freeze and share a look. I don’t want to be afraid and the last thing I want is for Wilde to be afraid. After listening for another moment, our shoulders relax at the same time when we recognize who it is.
Then Wilde is pulling me toward the kitchen while practically vibrating with excitement. The moment we step through the doorway, Knox turns and sees us. Watching him melt at the sight of us is something to behold.
Knox is a big man. I say that not only to speak on his size, which would be enough to make my statement true. But that’s not all.
There’s something about him that is larger than life. It makes you want to step a little closer to him. It makes you want to uncover his secrets and bask in his light.
I’ve never met a man quite like him.
As much as I should have spent this last week figuring out what life after Safe Home really looks like, I distractedly worked a little bit and then played Knox’s words, open and vulnerable as they were, over and over in my head.