It was terrifying. But it was also liberating.
For the first time in a long while, I felt surrounded by people who wanted what was best for Sam and me.
It’s three days later and that sense of support still hasn’t faded.
Late May sunshine beats down on me as I cross the Otters parking lot toward my car. I’m leaving work a little early today. I’ve got a secret mission to pull off.
My phone starts ringing inside my purse and my body goes rigid on instinct. I force myself to breathe.Relax, Elliot, I tell myself. You don’t have to worry about him anymore.
I pull my phone from my purse, see Rhett’s mom’s name on the screen and accept the call.
“Hi, Jane!”
“Hi! Sorry for the call! I’m driving and wanted to check when you’re picking up Rhett.”
I grin as I walk. Sam and Rhett don’t know it yet, but I’m taking them to the game tonight. After losing our second home game, we were trailing in the series 3–1. We won ournext game in Boston and tonight we have the chance to tie the series and force a game seven.
“I’ll be there by five,” I tell her, digging for my keys in my oversized bag. “People always show up early for playoff games and there will be lots for them to see and do.”
“Thank you again for taking him! Rhett’s going to lose his mind. My husband is so jealous.”
I laugh as I spot my car. He should be jealous, we’ve got great seats. Perks of sleeping with the coach.
“It should be fun. Unless we lose. That might scar them for life.”
“It’s a definite possibility,” she agrees. “Oh well. Better they talk about that years from now in therapy than our parenting, right?”
“So true.” I laugh as I open my car door. “I have to go, but I’ll be there to get Rhett by five!”
“Great! See you soon.”
I end the call and toss my bag into the back seat. I’ve barely shut the door when someone grabs my elbow and spins me around.
Hard.
“Who’s Rhett, Hummingbird?” my ex-husband asks. His mouth curls into a smile. “New boyfriend?”
My brain short-circuits. Words scatter. All I can do is stare up at a face I once knew better than my own reflection.
He looks the same. And completely different.
His light brown hair is longer now, streaked heavily with grey, like time finally decided to catch up with him. There’s a patchy beard on his jaw, the kind men keep when they want to look rugged but end up looking tired instead. His eyes are still that bright, startling blue.
He looks like he’s aged fifteen years in the six years since I last saw him, and somehow that’s the most unsettling part.
I yank my arm, but his grip tightens. He isn’t hurting me,not technically, just holding me in place like I’m something he owns. My skin crawls.
Not today. Not ever again.
“Let me go, Shawn.”
He grins wider. “She speaks. Fine, I’ll let you go. Just tell me who Rhett is.”
I wrench my arm again, fuelled by adrenaline and rage, and this time I break free. “Rhett is Sam’s best friend. Something you’d know if you knew anything about your son.”
He rolls his eyes and steps closer, invading my space. The smell on his breath hits me then. Alcohol.
“Well, how am I supposed to know anything when you’re threatening me with restraining orders?”
