Digging my fingertips into my temples, I sigh. “Tired.”
I’m tired, all right. Tired of feeling like I picked the world’s shittiest father for my son. Tired of knowing whatever I’m feeling about Colt can only be temporary. Tired of questioning every decision I make and worrying about whether my kid is going to turn out okay. Things haven’t been this awful between Jonas and me since the start of summer, but he’s home.He’s safe. And right now, I’m too tired to dwell on anything beyond that.
My stare drifts to the staircase, where distorted guitar riffs and a muffled drumbeat echo down from Jonas’s room. Under normal circumstances, catching him listening to one of my favorite punk albums would fill me with pride. But this is hitting a little too close to home. Reminiscent of the hours I spent screaming along to the most angsty and raw music I could find—anything by artists who seemed as misunderstood as I felt.
“He went to Alex. He chose him over me.”
I can’t help but wonder if I’ve officially lost him. Soon he’ll ask to move in with his dad, at eighteen he’ll cut me out entirely, and one day I’ll be lucky to see him on holidays. I remember whispering promises to Jonas as his tiny eight-pound body slept on my chest—I’d never be like my parents. Never make him wonder if my love was conditional or make him feel less than.
Now here we are. I wish I’d tried harder to talk to my mom before her diagnosis. If we’d mended those strained ties, maybe,justmaybe, I could figure out where things went so wrong with my son. And I could do better.
A hand eases onto my leg, fingers spread wide, the heat of his palm permeating through the thin fabric.
“My dad was gone a lot, working and rodeoing and lord knows what else. But whenever his shitty old truck rattled up the driveway, my brother and I would bolt outside to see him.” His voice is steady but raw. “Doesn’t mean we loved our mom any less…. It’s like there was a door that never opened in our house, and we couldn’t help but give the knob a jiggle every now and then.”
“You think that’s what Jonas is doing?”
He nods gently. “You’re still his safe place. When the door doesn’t budge, or when Alex cracks it open and slams it on hisfingers, Jonas is coming to you. Sure, he ran there, but he camehomewith you.”
I’ve never wanted anything the way I want him to be right about this.
“Want me to try and talk to him?” Colt gently asks. “Man to man?”
I shrug. “If he’ll let you.”
With a wink that makes my chest constrict, he starts to stand. “Stay here and decompress. I got this, Mama.”
I reach out, my fingers snaring his wrist. “Colt.”
His head tips to the left, eyebrows raised to ask a question without words.
“Thank you…for everything today.”
He gives a little nod, like it’s no big deal. Like he isn’t stitching together the fractured pieces of my life. I hold my breath for his entire journey to Jonas’s room. When the music abruptly stops and Colt isn’t immediately sent away, I drag myself to the kitchen and pour the most soothing glass of wine I’ve ever had.
I’m halfway through my second glass, curled up in the corner of the couch, when Colt’s heavy footfall starts back down the stairs. In the time he was gone, the sun set, and I didn’t bother getting off the couch to turn on lights—the small bulb above the stove brightens the open floor plan just enough.
Given how long Colt was up there, they must’ve talked aboutsomething,and as carefree and childlike as Colt can be, I doubt he’d be up for goofing around tonight. He fought like hell to stay calm and collected while we were searching for Jonas, but I could see it. The fear. The worry. Then the anger when Alex was so damn nonchalant about the entire thing.
There’s an entire empty couch, but Colt makes himself at home on the small, exposed sliver of my cushion. So close he’s practically on top of me, he pulls my legs to sprawl over his warm lap the way one might cover themselves with acomforting blanket. Teasing at the hem of my pants, his fingers glide underneath to stroke my calf.
Never mind the wine,thisis all I need to decompress.
“How did it go?” My gaze skips over him like a rock on a clear lake, taking in the way the shadows hug every outline and dip of his muscular arms.
“He told me to fuck off.”
I pat his chest. “That’s a little taste of parenting for you.”
“Then he asked if I’m officiallyTeam Momnow. Apparently I ‘did him dirty’ by coming with you to look for him, whatever that means. I told him there are no teams….” He pauses, dropping his head to place a sweet kiss at the corner of my mouth. “But…just between us, I’d definitely be on your team.”
My heart flutters, cheeks heating up.
“So he talked to you?”
“He did…and, uh, I think you should talk to him, too. Honestly, that kid at the playground deserved that punch. I have half a mind to find out where he lives and punch his dad, too.”
My eyebrows raise. “Oh?”
