Page 52
I feel . . . lost.
And so fucking angry.
Because Carson and I lost so much time, and I wasn’t as safe as I thought I was.
I think that’s the biggest thing that’s fucking with me. I failed. I thought that I was protecting my son from a life that could destroy him, when in reality, I wasn’t keeping him safe at all.
Every single part of my life over the past seven years has been a huge fucking lie.
And I feel like I’m breaking. Like I have no control, no say in anything, and I can’t be trusted. Obviously, I can’t be trusted with my son.
My father could have killed us. Stolen him. Fuck, so much could have gone wrong.
And today, Carson’s eyes were so sad as he stared at me here in this bedroom. I know he wanted me to be excited about the house. It’s a beautiful house, and exactly what I would have wished for when we were first married. But how can I be excited when I’m shattering apart and it feels like everything I worked so freaking hard for is just gone?
“Mom?”
My eyes don’t want to open when I feel Charlie crawl up on the bed, but I roll onto my back and pry my eyelids apart and try to smile at my boy.
“Mommy, are you sick?”
“Just tired, my baby.” I yank him down into my arms and kiss his head, making him giggle. “How are you?”
“Good.”
“I smell chlorine. Did you swim?”
“Yeah, and Dad swam with me. He has a ton of tattoos. And Spider made me a sandwich, and we’re ordering pizza for dinner. Do you want pizza?”
I want to sleep.
“Maybe. I love you so much, baby bear.”
“To the moon,” he says quietly.
“And back.” I grin for real this time and kiss his cheek. “Mommy is just so tired from our trip, so I think I might go back to sleep. Are you okay with that? Do you feel comfortable here?”
“Of course, it’s our house. I even have my own room.”
“It’s a very cool room,” I agree. “Did you thank your dad for everything?”
“I did, but he said I don’t have to thank him.”
I brush his hair out of his eyes. He’s about due for a haircut. “But we have manners, and we know that it’s polite to say thank you. Right?”
“Yes.” He nods once and then frowns in concern. “You look sad.”
Shit, I can never keep anything from my boy.
“I’m not,” I lie easily. “I’m just having a rough day. But I want you to have so much fun with your daddy, okay?”
“Okay.”
He wiggles off the bed, and when I glance up I see that Carson is standing in the doorway, watching us. His hands are tucked in the pockets of gray sweatpants. He’s wearing one of his white T-shirts, and when Charlie bounces off the bed, he grins at our son and pats him on the back.
“I’ll be downstairs to play with you in a minute. You can get started on that Iron Man LEGO.”
“Awesome!” Charlie goes running down the hallway, and Carson walks into the room.
