I was alone.
I let the cries absorb into the quilt, silent crying as I’d taught myself to do so Van didn’t hear it. Was it better to be here, having my heart torn out by someone who I knew was a good person, someone who was messed up with decision making or to be back in the house, safe from everything, except for my husband’s vicious words and actions? At least I didn't feel anything for him. I only cried for the physical pain, not the emotional and mental pain I was currently going through.
Slowly, I picked myself up, splashed some cold water onto my face and dabbed the towel over it. My eyes were red and puffy, but my tears had stopped. Finishing my packing, I opened the door to the room, giving it one last look around and I left, heading down the stairs and past Maverick who held my sleeping son in his arms. I didn’t want to look, I didn’t want to see how much it made my heart swell, or how right it looked.
I pushed out of the door, and toward the car, keeping my back to him. If Van woke, he’d see my puffy eyes and he’d start crying and I didn’t want him to feel that ever again.
Maverick put Van in the back, in a car seat I only just noticed was in there. When he grabbed my bag, I hauled it to my chest, not letting him. It was my safety blanket right now. The only thing I could say was mine, aside from my son.
He got the picture, and he backed up, heading over to the driver’s seat. I got in the passenger seat, stuffing my bag between my legs and buckling myself in. The tension between us was thick, but we didn’t speak.
As we headed out of Jordan Springs, I could see we were heading toward the Hills district. Ironborne had very little to do with property out this way so it was probably the perfect place to put me.
We pulled into a cute little house in a quiet street, the driveway came all the way up to a path that led from it to the porch. Two steps led up to the front door.
Maverick pulled the car up, turning off the ignition. We both just sat there, no words, just something reaching between us that we couldn’t give in to.
I noticed his hands were bruised and had a few cuts over his knuckles. It looked like he’d gotten into a fight.
My chest ached for him, the redness told me how sore it would be, but I didn’t want to ask. I didn’t want to know what he’d been up to.
I pushed the door open and pulled the bag out, moving to get Van out, but Maverick was already there, undoing the belts off him and slowly pulling him out of the seat. I hated that I loved how Van cuddled into him, his head falling into the crook of his neck, like he was his safe place too.
It just felt so right.
Maverick handed me the keys and I moved up to the front door, annoyed that I was accepting his help when he was breaking my heart. Putting the key in the lock, I turned it and walked through, trying to put some distance between us and looked around. The house was decorated, but sparsely. There was no colour on the walls, the furniture looked straight out of an Ikea catalog and the house smelled new.
“Bedrooms are down the hall, the kitchen is through that alcove and the doors to the backyard too.”
I nodded, not wanting to speak to him.
“I’m just going to put Van down in his room, okay?”
I followed him down the hall, watching him deposit my son onto a single bed with a wall full of cars and books. My breath caught when I realised he’d done this with Van in mind. Photos of motorcycles lined the walls and the quilt set was of Harley Davidson.
I rolled my eyes and headed to the next door which was a large bedroom. The quilt was a deep green colour, the curtains matching the linen. A large table with a chair sat by the wall, and an ensuite bathroom was perfectly matching the towels to the green theme.
It was perfect.
But I didn’t want to tell him that.
“He’s out still,” Maverick said from the doorway. I continued to give him my back. “This place is yours. When Hardy is taken care of, I’ll put it in your name.”
I felt the sob start. From the window, I could see the playset outside in the backyard, the little garden off to the side.
This was a dream home for me.
The kind I wanted with him, when he took me as his, and became the dad Van desperately needed.
The dream that was now shattered into pieces under my feet, along with my heart.
“Do you want me to thank you?” I asked, surprised at how bitter my own voice sounded.
Maverick closed the distance between us, pulling me into his arms. I hated how easy it would be to wrap mine around him, hold him to me, and make all the pain go away.
What would it take to change his mind?
“I’m sorry, Tavi. I’m not mad at you for hiding who you are. You did what you thought you had to. I know what that feels like, believe me. I just…can’t risk you, or Van. I can’t risk my own kids. I need to be a Shackled Son. It’s who I am.”
