“I-I didn’t do anything to him. He’s lying!”
“Not to me. To Braeden.” I’m done with this. I have to find him. “I don’t have time for this. If he’s not here being tortured or something, I have to go. He’s missing.” Then I point to Bryce. “Tell your father the truth. Shape up and stop lying.”
“I’ll deal with you later,” he says to his son. All of a sudden, the man and I become best pals? Jesus. He softens his stance, and his scowl wipes away from his face. “Have you tried his phone?”
I give him a bland look. “Yes.”
“Not to call him, but check his location on his phone.”
I literally slap my forehead. “Of course! Shit. Thank you!”
They’re quickly forgotten as I rush off to my car to the sounds of the man yelling at Bryce for lying. I climb in and open Braeden’s contact. The map opens up, and there he is, the little blue dot hovering… I expand the map to see he’s by the river. Shit.
There’s no beach or anything around here, only woods and the riverbank. God, I hope he didn’t jump in or decide to swim. I doubt it, though, since I have a pool. But the niggling thought in the back of my mind doesn’t believe this is about having fun or exploring.
I park my car on a grassy strip alongside the road and start walking through the bushes and trees. It’s recently rained, making the ground muddy and slick.
In fact, the clouds are looking ominous with rain again soon. I need to get the boy home before it downpours.
It doesn’t take long to reach the river and the rocky bank. I look left and then right. There he is.
Though I’ve found him, my heart still races with panic. He’s clearly troubled by his sagging shoulders and hunched back, as if he’s trying to fold in on himself.
Braeden is sitting on the rocks, staring out over the water, the gentle breeze blowing back his growing bangs.
Something holds me back from yelling or rushing toward him. Instead, I slowly make my way closer, trying not to twist an ankle on the rocks.
He senses me and looks in my direction before looking away. I tense, worried he’s going to run off or something, but he doesn’t.
As I get closer, I can see he’s clearly been crying. My heart settles down, but it’s aching now.
When I reach Braeden, I sit next to him and stare out at the water. His head is now buried in his knees as he sobs.
All I know to do is wrap my arm around him, but he snaps at me. “Don’t touch me!”
I don’t know what to do if he won’t let me comfort him. I have no idea what’s pushed his set back.
“Talk to me, Brae. What’s going on?”
“Fuck you.”
My gut twists at his words, and I wince. Okay, so he’s pissed at me. I’m racking my brain, trying to figure out what I’ve done, other than being a complete failure at this parenting thing. Just when I thought I was getting the hang of things… He’s doing poorly in school, he has no friends, he’s being bullied, and I don’t know what the fuck to do. I thought we were making progress. I thought his therapy was helping.
Despite wanting to respect his boundaries, my instincts keep telling me to push him, so I try to hold him again. He still fights me, but not as hard, and I keep trying until he lets me side hug him. “Brae, talk to me. Please. I can’t fix what I don’t know is broken.”
“I wanna go home!” he wails. “I fucking hate it here.”
Honestly, I’m not expecting my eyes to water at his words. It’s not the first time he’s said them, but I’ve tried so hard to make his life as happy as possible, and I can’t seem to get it right. I’m frustrated with myself, not with him. He’s still hurting, and that’s never his fault. I only wish I could do more.
It’s not like we can’t move back to Houston, but I don’t want to. Too many fucking bad memories. I love it here in New Orleans. I also love my house and my business.
“It’s not like you even want me.”
“But I fought to get custody of you.”
“Only because you had to.”
I close my eyes, feeling the sting of his words. I know deep down he’s intentionally trying to cut me because he’s upset. Still, it fucking hurts.
