Penny’s cries stutter and quiet, that fragile moment between sobs.
“No,” he repeats, voice low. “You’re not walking away. Not this time.”
“I do not want to fight in front of her,” I hiss.
“It’sabouther,” he throws back. “About how her mom doesn’t wanna be with her.”
My mouth falls open. I whisper-yell, “What’s wrong with you? Seriously,what the hell is the matter with you?”
“I’M FUCKING FINE!” he roars.
The sound hits like a slap. Penny jerks in my arms and starts sobbing again, loud hiccupy cries that cut right through me.
Matthew’s face twists as he looks at her, at the way I’m holding her protectively. His anger cracks, just slightly. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t…” His voice falters, breaking apart at the edges.
He trails off.
Then he turns and walks away.
I stand frozen, watching him grab nothing, his phone’s still on the coffee table, his jacket still on the hook. He just walks out.
I don’t call after him.
I just stand there, holding Penny, listening to the door click shut behind him.
Matthew
What did I just do?
God. The image of Brooke holding Penny like she needed to protect her fromme, that’s going to haunt me for the rest of my life.
Me. I’m her dad. I’m supposed to be the safe one.
I keep walking. I don’t know how long or where. Just streets. Crowds. Noise. Brooklyn moves around me like it always does, loud and messy and filled with so many fucking people.
I end up at a crosswalk, staring blankly at the light, when I see him.
A man across the street, bumping into a woman. Once, twice. At first it looks like nothing, just crowded sidewalk traffic, but then I see his wrist move. Not accidental.
Something inside me snaps.
One second, I’m watching him. The next, I’m across the street, slamming into him, knocking him backward. The sound of knuckles meeting bone is sharp and ugly. I don’t stop. I don’t think. Ipummelhim.
I get a couple of good shots in before two cops finally appear out of nowhere, yanking me off him. Funny, he was harassing a woman for God knows how long and nobody showed up. But the second he gets a taste of what he deserves, the cavalry arrives.
They don’t ask me a single question before slapping cuffs on me and shoving me into the back of a squad car. The adrenaline’s wearing off fast, replaced by a cold, sinking weight.
At the precinct, the booking is fast. Fingerprints. Mug shot. Emptying my pockets. A bland room with buzzing lights.
I stand in the cell wondering if I should just sit next to the passed-out guy or risk it on the floor with someone that looks and smells like death. I don’t get to decide before an officer calls my name. Wonder who I should call, the wife who’s scared of me or the mother I kicked out of my life. Maybe Lenny who has been MIA ever since Penny was born.
“It’s your lucky day,” the cop says. “The guy you clocked refused to file charges at the hospital. No victim, no case. You’re free to go.”
He mutters something about a possible citation, but it barely registers. I just nod, sign something, and walk out into the night air.
“Mr.!”
I turn at the sound of the voice.
