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He sighed. “Fox was into everything, so bright, so intelligent, always pushing the limits; a good kid.” He looked at me, his eyes bright with emotion. “Messy, all over the place. We had so much fun, and I taught him all kinds of cooking, and we always cleared up before Briggs got home because that house was like a mausoleum, a temple of neat. He got thrown out of a game, Briggs I mean, and he came home early, found the two of us in the kitchen, flour everywhere, and he kind of lost it with us. Fox didn’t understand. I took him upstairs. We cleaned up, and he was happy with his toys, and I went down, and that was the first time Briggs told me I was doing things wrong. He was so calm, explaining how I could be better, what he expected from me,” Noah recounted, his voice laced with a pain that was hard to hear. “I changed, lost parts of myself, became more like a shadow.”
Listening to him, I felt a growing anger towards this man who had hurt Noah so badly.
“And it got worse?” I asked, dreading the answer.
“Fox was at an academy, attended lots of extracurricular stuff, weeks away, and so I started covering shifts at the restaurant—special events, that kind of thing—but I always made sure I was back for Briggs because, otherwise, he’d get upset, and by this time, I’d become a man who didn’t upset Briggs Lewiston.” He leaned into me, knocking my shoulder. “Then, the shit hit the fan. It turned out that Briggs had slowly lost his money, allegedly thrown games, lost bets, emptied Fox’s college fund, forged my signature on paperwork, took out a second mortgage on the house that he’d signed over fifty percent of to me on our wedding day. Bankrupted us. Got angry. Took it out on me and threatened to take it out on Fox if I didn’t back down from harassing him over his actions.” He snorted a laugh. “Harassinghim!”
“You must have hated it there.”
“Part of me did, the other part tried to make it work; classic reaction to abuse. Then, he hit me.”
I inhaled sharply. “Noah…”
“I don’t even recall why, but he hit me here.” He pressed a hand to his stomach, then to his chest. “And I threatened to leave, and he said he’d never let me take Fox. He reasoned Fox wasn’t my child by blood, and if it went to court, whatever he’d done, I would have to walk away from Fox. I couldn’t do it. You get that, right?” He sounded desperate.
“Of course, Jesus, you would never leave a child to get hurt.”
Silence, and he stared down at our joined hands. “I stayed, and it carried on. He was arrested for laying bets on his own team, and for verbal abuse in the locker room, but miraculously, everything was paid off to go away, probably by his team because, hell, he was still pitching the wins, right?”
“Yeah.” Sports overlooked all kinds of shit while the wins kept coming.
“He came home one afternoon, didn’t know Fox was home ill, and he lost his shit and hit me so hard he cracked a rib, and then, he threw me against a wall and broke my wrist, and worse than that…” He scrubbed his eyes, and I couldn’t believe there was anything worse than what he was describing. He gasped for breath, his hand on his chest. “Fox saw it all.”
“I did,” Fox said from the top of the stairs, and we both inhaled, horrified that Fox was even there.
“Fox—”
“It’s okay Dad,” he interrupted. “I was thirteen, and I saw him hurt Noah, because Noah was protecting me, never leaving because it would mean we’d be apart.” He came down the steps, then sat a few steps up. “I love you for that, Dad. I love you protected me. I hate he hit you, but I love you got me away. I love that you love me. I just… thank you.”
Noah cleared his throat, tears sliding down his cheeks, and I pulled him close to me.
“He’s the best dad, Chris,” Fox said, warning me in his way, with so much defiance, as he stared down at me. “And if you hurt him like Papa did…”
The warning was clear. “I would never hurt Noah. I love him, and I love you, and…”I want us to be a family.
Fox and I held each other’s gaze, and he paused before he replied. “Yeah,” he said. “I know.”
Silence fell between the three of us, but Noah still hadn’t talked about today, and I hated I knew he had things to tell us.
“Why are you telling him this now?” Fox asked, sounding confused.
“Because your papa was here today,” Noah admitted.
Fox’s reaction was immediate, a mix of protectiveness and fury. “When? Was I upstairs? Is he here now?” Fox asked, poised for action, scanning the diner.
“No, you were at school. He’s gone. The sheriff took care of it,” Noah assured him.
Fox clambered over us to the hall and went into a crouch in front of his dad, his gaze skimming his dad from head to toe. “Did he hurt you?”
Noah smiled and reached out his other hand to his son. “No. Levi was here, and he scared him off, called Neil, and then, Connor arrived as if he and Neil were an avenging superhero duo, and your papa left.” Everything spilled out in an instant, and Fox sat down then, to curl into his dad’s arms.
“He’s not coming back; I won’t let him,” I said with strength.
“He won’t be back,” a loud voice came from the door, Connor staring down at us, all three of us jumping a freaking mile.
“Stop doing that!” I snapped, then, “How did you get in?” I was sure I’d locked the main door.
“Ninja,” Fox whispered.
