“He wandered in here. I engaged him so he didn’t take off again. As soon as I could safely complete my task, I’d have walked him home. He knew that and was waiting for me.”
The words sounded rational coming out of his mouth, yet they only made me angrier.
“This place is a death trap,” I growled, kicking a piece of wood lying near my foot.
“It’s a working farm,” he said, his tone low. “There are dangers, sure. But I do a damn good job minimizing any risk. A city girl like you might have some romantic idea of farming, but I guarantee it’s nowhere close to the reality.”
“I am not a city girl,” I spat, my free hand on my hip—the other still on Julian. That was a low fucking blow. “I am from rural Maine, North Woods, sir. My father was a logger, and I learned how to dodge moose on the road while I still had my learner’s permit. Do not patronize me.”
He grunted. “Then understand the danger and parent appropriately.”
A red curtain dropped over my vision. Did this man seriously just judge my parenting? On autopilot, my body ran through the self-defense training I’d taken. One swift kick in the balls, and I’d have him on the ground.
“Mom,” Julian said softly.
His sweet voice brought me back to earth and immediately doused the aggression building inside me. I was not the type of person who got into fights, verbal or otherwise. We’d moved here for peace and tranquility. And the only way to achieve them was to get far away from Josh Lawrence.
“Julian.” I kneeled next to him.
He bristled, but he didn’t move or complain.
“TTG,” I said softly.
His eyes widened and his little body stiffened.
It was our family code, when somethingwas wrong or we needed to exit an uncomfortable situation quickly, one of us uttered the code and we all moved.
Blinking, he stood and gave Josh a random thumbs-up. Then he scurried toward the exit.
I followed, refusing to look back at that asshole.
I trudged back up the hill while, at my side, Julian chattered happily about his new friend Wayne and how the beard guy let him help with tools.
This should have brought me nothing but joy. I’d waited so long for him to speak. He’d endured early intervention and therapy, and I’d endured so much worry. He was three years old the first time he said “Mama.”
It was one of the happiest moments of my life.
Although it took him a long time to start talking, once he hit that milestone, the words didn’t slow. His stream-of-consciousness observations were a normal part of our days.
Seeing the world through his eyes was a special gift, and I would always cherish it.
But I couldn’t even bring myself to listen to his storytelling. My ears were ringing too loudly and anger, mostly at myself and the situation, simmered inside me.
Had I been kidding myself?
Maybe I couldn’t do this.
Shit, I couldn’t even fold laundry while keeping an eye on Julian.
I was a fucking failure.
With every step, my feet grew heavier.
“Can I have some cooking popcorn?” Julian asked as we climbed the porch steps. “I’m hungry.” He loved popcorn and I’d bought a fancy machine and organic corn kernels, buthe always preferred the microwave kind, which he called his cooking popcorn.
A long breath escaped me, my shoulders finally deflating. “Can we talk about what just happened first?”
Head lowered, he focused on his hands. I rubbed and squeezed his shoulders firmly. Light touches could make him uncomfortable, so when I needed his attention, I had to apply some pressure.
