Chapter 6
Sadie
See you soon.
My heart stutters at the words on the screen.
Is he seriously coming? A swarm of wasps buzzes in my chest. Holy shit!
I look down at the threadbare leggings and hoodie I’m wearing.
With a squeal, I jump up from the couch and race upstairs, showering in record time.
I pull on some clean leggings and a slouchy top that’s flattering without looking like I’ve tried too hard.
I comb the worst of the knots out of my thick hair, leaving it to fall loose around my shoulders.
I’m applying a slick of lip gloss and mascara when the doorbell rings.
Crap. That was fast! I thought Tyler lived on the other side of town.
I thunder down the stairs, heart hammering in my chest. I pause for a second at the front door.
I glance over at the empty wine glass on the coffee table, at the half-eaten bag of chips, and wish I’d had a bit more time to tidy up and light a candle or two.
I tuck my hair behind my ear and take a breath before opening the door wide.
“Mommy!” Owen slams into me, wrapping his arms around my legs and clinging to me tightly.
It takes me a moment to process what’s happening. Automatically, I hug Owen back. “Hey sweetie, what are you doing here?” I murmur, my eyes fixing on Ethan’s pissed-off expression.
“I had a nightmare,” Owen mumbles into my thigh, wiping snot against it.
“Kid wouldn’t stop screaming. He wouldn’t eat his dinner, and then he wouldn’t go to sleep. He had the mother of all tantrums. He even kicked Brielle!” Ethan says indignantly.
I try to hide the vicious smirk that threatens to cross my lips at that very thought. I shouldn’t be pleased that Owen hates Brielle. It’s troubling, but I’m also annoyed that Ethan’s first response was to bring Owen home when things got tough rather than talk it out with him.
“He’s four, Ethan. Four-year-olds have tantrums. It’s your job as his father to handle those, not give up and drive miles in the middle of the night to dump him on my doorstep.”
Ethan throws his hands up, sighing dramatically. “I tried, but the kid is out of control. I don’t know how you’ve been raising him, but—”
I hold up my hand, cutting him off. “Don’t even go there. This is not my fault. It was his first night in a new home, with a woman he barely knows—”
“Whose fault is that? You never let Brielle and me spend time with him!”
“Why the heck would I, especially if this is what happens!” I yell, gesturing to Owen, who is now sobbing in earnest.
“It’s not my fault the kid wouldn’t settle. Brielle spent hours decorating his room and filling it with toys, but was he grateful? No. He said he was scared!” Ethan throws his arms up, shaking his head. “What kind of kid is scared of clowns?”
“If you knew anything about your son, you’d know that he’s terrified of them!” Ethan steps closer, close enough that I get a whiff of alcohol on his breath. “Have you been drinking?” I ask in disbelief.
“You’re one to talk,” he sneers, jutting his chin toward the wine bottle on the kitchen counter. “What are you even doing up at this hour, tarted up like a whore?”
I take a step back, pulling Owen slightly behind me.
“Is there someone in there?” Ethan says, stepping closer, slamming his hands against the door frame.
“No.” I try to speak calmly, to hide my fear.
Ethan is acting strangely. He was never physically violent, but I know his moods well, his jealousy.
The irony that he was the one who was cheating while constantly accusing me of infidelity isn’t lost on me.
“Ethan. You’ve been drinking. You shouldn’t have driven Owen here. ”
“God, you’re such a judgy, superior bitch!” he snarls, spittle flying from his mouth. “No wonder our son is such a spoiled brat.”
I recoil as if I’ve been slapped, shocked by the venom in his voice, and I push Owen farther away, willing him to go upstairs, but I can’t find my voice.
He steps closer, and without thinking, I step back, trying to shut the door in his face.
He sticks his foot in the way, stopping it. I’ve only angered him more.
“Fucking bitch!” he yells, shoving the door open. It slams into me, knocking me to the floor.
“Mommy!” Owen cries, rushing to my side.
Ethan stops for a moment, blinking as if waking from a daze, as if he can’t quite believe what just happened. His face softens for a second. “Sadie…” remorse tinges his voice.
“Get out of my house, Ethan,” I respond quietly.
Ethan’s nostrils flare. “You know what? You’re right, I shouldn’t have come. I’ll take the boy home and handle this myself, show him some respect and discipline.” He grabs hold of Owen’s wrist, trying to pull him away. Owen clings to me like a monkey, howling, “No! Mommy!”
“Let them go,” a cold, measured voice laced with violence comes from the doorway behind Ethan.
Ethan whips his head around to look at the man filling my doorway.
He’s tall, a head taller than Ethan at least, with broad shoulders and a lean, muscular torso.
Every inch of his skin, except his chiseled face, is covered in tattoos.
He radiates a dangerous energy, watching Ethan like a mountain lion playing housecat.
“Can I help you?” Ethan stammers, his voice coming out less certain than he no doubt hoped.
“I said, let go.” The man nods his head toward Owen.
Ethan looks down at his hand, clinging too tightly to Owen’s small wrist, at his son’s red face, streaked with tears as he silently sobs, at my wide-eyed expression of horror and fear.
He releases Owen as if scalded. He looks as if he’s about to apologize, his face full of remorse, but then he remembers the man and turns to face him.
I scramble to my feet, pulling Owen close, kissing his head, and murmuring words of comfort.
Ethan holds up his hands in surrender, using his best salesperson voice, a voice that says, ‘trust me’, but also is a little condescending, implying, ‘I’m better than you’.
“Look, I don’t know what you think you saw, buddy, but this is just a little tiff between husband and wife, no need to play white knight. ”
“Ex-wife,” I find myself blurting out as the man’s dark eyes search mine. I have the strangest feeling of familiarity, as if I know him, which is, of course, impossible. I’d definitely remember meeting someone like him.
The man’s gaze lingers on me longer than needed, making me feel warm and strangely comforted. They flicker back to Ethan, growing cold and dark, like the ocean during a storm. “The lady wants you to leave.”
Ethan straightens his spine. “Now, listen here. I don’t know who you think you are or what you think you’re doing, but this isn’t necessary or helpful. You’re trespassing on private property. You should go.”
A smirk dances across the man’s face. He rubs his chiseled jaw, highlighted with a five o’clock shadow, as he shakes his head. “I’m not leaving until you’re out of sight. Unless the lady says otherwise.”
He looks to me, wordlessly asking permission. My silence asks him to stay. He nods once, and I somehow know he won’t go until I am safe, until I ask him to. No matter what.
Ethan’s jaw opens and closes, for once, at a loss for words.
The dangerous energy radiating from the man makes it clear he’s not afraid of a fight, and Ethan knows he would lose if it came to that.
Not that it ever would, Ethan is a coward.
He’s used to talking his way out of situations, manipulating people with slick talk.
He’s never met someone so unmoved by his charm.
“Just go, Ethan,” I say wearily.
Ethan exhales, a sound close to a laugh. “Don’t tell me this is the guy you’re seeing?” he asks incredulously, as if the thought’s only just occurred to him.
“My personal life is none of your business,” I snap back.
I don’t know why I don’t simply tell him the truth, that I’ve never seen this man before in my life, but I want Ethan to squirm a little.
To know that I’m not the undesirable, dried-up, discarded wife he thinks I am.
And if I’m being honest, the man is stupidly hot.
Maybe I want Ethan to feel a little jealous, to feel a fraction of what I felt when he traded me in for a newer, better model.
Ethan stands there for a moment, frozen with indecision.
The other man steps forward, only a fraction of an inch, but the threat is clear.
Ethan shakes his head again. “Fucking unbelievable. No wonder the kid is fucked up.” I bristle again at Ethan’s refusal to claim Owen as his own or even use his name.
Noticing my anguish, the man’s fists clench tighter, but when Ethan moves to leave, the man steps aside, giving him just enough space to pass.
Ethan stomps to his car, trying to act as tough and macho as a man who’s just lost a fight that never even started can be.
“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer,” he shouts from the window before driving away.
I let out a sigh of relief once Ethan was out of sight.
“Thank you,” I say softly to the man, then turn my attention to Owen.
I hold him, soothing him with whispered words of love and encouragement, telling him that Daddy didn’t mean it, that he didn’t do anything wrong, that everything is okay.
God knows how this will impact him in the long run, but right now, Owen surprises me with his resilience. He nods bravely, wiping his tears.
To my surprise, when I look back up, the man is still there. “Oh… I wasn’t… you don’t…”
“Mommy! Thunderbike!” Owen exclaims, pointing to our driveway where there is indeed a very large motorcycle.
I frown, puzzled by its appearance, especially since the man isn’t wearing leathers or a helmet.
I didn’t hear it pull up either, though I was distracted by Ethan.
“Is it yours?” Owen asks, gazing up at him as if he’s Superman.
The man smiles, a devastatingly handsome smile that makes my stomach flip. “It sure is, Owen, wanna see it?” he asks, crouching down to meet Owen’s eye.
Owen fizzes with excitement, the trauma of the argument momentarily forgotten. “Yes! Can I, Mommy?” he asks, looking up to me, his face pure and filled with joy.
Despite the alarm bells going off in my head, I don’t have the heart to turn him down, not after what just happened.
I nod, and Owen whoops and hollers, rushing over to the bike and laying his sticky fingers on its gleaming chrome.
“Owen, look, don’t touch!” I call after him.
I warily survey the stranger on my front lawn.
The man looks at me. “It’s okay.” It feels like he’s assuring me about more than just the bike. Despite the fact I don’t know who he is, there’s something comforting in the way he speaks. I feel at ease, like I already know him.
I watch, stunned, for a moment as the man patiently shows Owen the motorcycle, even letting him sit on it for a second.
He seems so kind, so gentle, in contrast with his appearance and what I just witnessed.
However, I can’t relax. Especially knowing that Tyler could turn up at any moment.
“Come on now, Owen, time for bed. Thank, Mr…”
“Trig—” he stops. “Kane.”
“Thank you, Kane!” Owen says, throwing his arms around the man’s legs and hugging him.
The man blinks in surprise, patting him on the back. “That’s okay, kid.”
We walk back over to the porch, and I tell Owen to go upstairs, brush his teeth, and get into his pajamas. To my surprise, he doesn’t argue with me. It gives me a smug swell of satisfaction. Ethan was wrong; Owen doesn’t lack discipline or respect. He lacks a father figure.
I suddenly have a thought. Owen. When Kane first spoke to my son he called him by his name. As soon as Owen is out of earshot, I turn to Kane, my eyes narrowed, and my arms folded. “How do you know my son’s name?”
A look of comprehension crosses his face. “Right, of course, you don’t know.” He chuckles softly. “I know because you told me.” He pulls out his phone, and I see the screen.
On it, there’s the message I sent to Tyler, the one with my location, asking him to come over.
All of a sudden, it makes perfect sense why Tyler seemed different over text compared to in person.
It was never Tyler to start with. Somehow, I must have texted the wrong number, and for some reason, Kane replied. He became important to me.
Kane looks at me sheepishly. “Are you mad I’m not who you expected?”
I shake my head.
“I think you’re even more than I expected.”
Without thinking, I step forward. I tilt my head up to look him in the eye. Mysterious, dark wells that seem to read my mind. I don’t know who moves first, but all of a sudden, I’m in his arms, and we’re kissing passionately right there in the doorway for all the neighbors to see. And I don’t care.
I don’t want to stop, either.