14. Melanie #2
His expression is dubious as he leans forward, wrapping his arms around me. “I’m glad I have you,” he whispers, and it feels like someone cracked my chest open, pouring pain directly into my veins.
“I’m glad I have you too.”
It takes a long time for Oakley to fall asleep.
The two of us cuddled together in his twin bed, talking about what he can do the next time Clarissa gets a bee in her bonnet and comes after him.
We talked about ways for him to get help from safe adults and how to manage his emotions until he can get to me.
We talked until his swollen eyes finally drooped, and he fell asleep clutching my hand in his. Even then, his breathing still hitched with each breath, like the emotions wouldn’t quite release their grip on him, even when he was relaxed in sleep.
I tiptoe out of his room, fury racing through my veins and no outlet for it. The one person I want to rage at isn’t here, and has no idea the kind of damage he’s inflicting on his own son—through his own actions and through other people. Another child.
Even if Davis did know, I can’t quite convince myself he’d care.
He is no longer the man who cried when the doctor placed Oakley in his arms, or the man who whispered promises in my ear.
He’s not the man who dreamed of a future with me, a family—something neither of us had really ever had, but both wanted.
Now, he’s a stranger, and an ungracious part of me wishes he’d just…disappear, so Oakley and I can finally move on and heal from the wreckage Davis keeps unleashing on our lives.
I grab a bottle of beer from the fridge, draining half of it in one go.
It does nothing to ease the rage writhing in my chest. I lean against the kitchen counter, wanting desperately to break something, and knowing that I can’t.
It won’t help me fix this for Oakley. Nothing will except minimizing Davis’s role in our lives from here on out.
There’s a quiet knock at the front door. I look up with a frown, my phone telling me that it’s just after ten. I look out the side window, my mouth dropping in surprise when I find Cale standing on the other side, the security light casting ominous shadows over his grim expression.
He barely waits for me to pull the door open before he announces, “We need to talk,” a muscle jumping in his tight jaw.
“Okaaay,” I draw out slowly. “What can I help you with?”
“Your kid broke one of my windows today.”
The way he says your kid has me immediately bristling, even as shock fills me at the venom in his tone. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Cale yanks his phone out of his pocket and pulls up a paused video, taken from one of his security cameras—the same kind he installed around my place after the break-in.
He presses play, and I watch as Oakley comes into the frame, in the same clothes he’d been wearing earlier.
He approaches Cale’s garden gate, but then freezes, his face pale and wide.
He doesn’t move for a minute, another, and I glance up at Cale impatiently.
“Keep watching,” he snaps, his eyes barely meeting mine.
I flatten my lips together at his tone, but do as he says, my brow furrowing as I watch Oakley bend down and grab something. It happens so quickly that I’m not sure what I’m seeing as Oakley leaves, running back the way he came.
There’s no missing the shattered glass, though.
“What…” I breathe out, unable to believe what I’m seeing. My kid isn’t destructive, but checking the timestamp, I can see that it’s not long after he ran from the school. “Oh.”
My mouth opens ready to explain about what happened today, ready to apologize. Before I can, he shoves the phone in my face, the video frozen, his voice brusque as he demands, “You’ll be paying for the damages, obviously.”
His brown eyes are flashing with fury, his shoulders drawn back as he looms over me. I blink, trying to connect the person standing in front of me with one who hauled me into his arms, shielding me the night my house had been trashed. “Of course.”
“And you might want to talk to him about vandalizing people’s property.” His eyes fly over my shoulder. “Maybe you should be looking closer to home for the damage done to your place.” He smiles, but it’s not a nice one. “Clearly, your parenting leaves something to be desired.”
I suck in a breath, the hit landing hard, especially after the day we’ve had today.
It falls along the lines of what I’ve already been thinking, blaming myself for the fact that Oakley felt like he wasn’t safe in his own school—or from his own father.
Oakley was feeling so much, and he didn't know what to do with it, which means I messed up somewhere.
I let him down.
Today should never have happened, and it was my fault.
I could reason my way out of those thoughts, but they’re insidious, sticking to my mind like tar. And now Cale—someone who has become safe—is staring at me with accusing eyes, confirming every single one.
Someone had to take the blame, and I was the only one standing there.
“Cale—”
“It’s a good thing you ended it,” he says. “Because obviously Davis knew something I didn’t when he left you.”
It’s the first time I’ve ever heard him say my ex’s name, and he’s throwing it at me like a weapon. Anger tries to build in my chest, but it’s smothered by devastation, followed by the realization that even if I broke it off with Cale before I fell any deeper…
Maybe it’s already too late.
It feels like he’s shoving a hot poker directly into my chest, the attack so unexpected and horrible that I don’t know how to respond.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out except for soft, anguished sound. His eyes flare wide, something almost like remorse flickering across his face. He falls back a step and—
“You shut up!”
We both jerk at the sound of Oakley’s angry voice. He’s standing behind me in his favorite pajamas—soft, fluffy ones covered in cartoon characters. His face is red, his eyes watery, and he’s pinning Cale with the most apoplectic look I’ve ever seen on him.
“This is all your fault!” he shouts. Cale takes another step back, his eyes widening at the rage spilling out of my son. “I thought you were my friend, but you’re not. You’re a liar, just like my dad!”
“Oakley,” I whisper. “Bug. What’s going on? Did you break his window?”
“Yes,” he tells me defiantly, eyes never leaving Cale. “I did. I didn’t mean to, but I’m glad I did.”
A wave of exhaustion washes through me, just as Oakley steps up next to me, leaning his weight against my legs as he stares up at a speechless Cale.
“I ran away from school today,” he announces acerbically. “I had a really bad day, and I shouldn’t have run. But I wanted my mom, and she wasn’t home.” Cale’s eyes flit up to me, his jaw is clenched tight, not a single word escaping his mouth. “She wasn’t home, but you were.”
“Killer—”
“Don’t call me that,” he says, wildly shaking his head. “Friends give each other nicknames, and we’re not friends.”
“Oakley.” It’s a bewildered agreement, Cale’s face twisting with incomprehension. “I don’t understand.” All the aggravation he stormed over with seems to have evaporated, but the words are lingering in my head, under my skin, digging at me like the points of a thousand needles.
“My mom wasn’t home,” Oakley repeats, “but when I heard you talking, I thought maybe I could hang out with you until she got back. I thought you might—” His voice cracks, so he tries again. “I thought you might help.”
I crouch down, gently turning his face to mine. “What happened, bug?”
His familiar blue-gray eyes lock with mine, full of uncertainty. “I don’t want to tell you,” Oakley confesses, but before the sting can even settle, he adds, “It’ll hurt your feelings, ’cause it hurt mine.”
I cup his cheek, stroking my thumb over his skin. “It’s not your job to look after my feelings,” I say softly. “You’re the kid, remember? It’s my job to look after you, and I can’t do that if I don’t know what I’m protecting you from.”