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With a few more steps backward, I take in the trashed apartment before focusing back on her. Heather is almost as dirty as Easton. Her yellow dress is stained, and where she’s so skinny, the loose sleeves fall off her shoulders, revealing bruises and cuts.
I should’ve checked on them yesterday when my gut told me to. Fuck, I should’ve done more to stop this from happening. The little boy still crying in arms deserves better.
A keening screech has me lunging to her. My hand hovers over her shoulder as she shakes her head, freaking out. Unkempt hair whips about her face while she frantically mutters things I can’t make out.
“Stop it,” I tell her, keeping my voice steady and grasping her arm to hoist her back onto her feet when she tries to pry my boy from me. Pulling back, I release her as she leans into the kitchen cabinet. “You’re scaring him.”
Shaking her head harder, she strikes the granite with the bottom of her fist. “No…no…no…”
The palpable agitation pouring from her only serves to worsen Easton’s distress. The cries are so loud that my ears ring with the sound.
“Calm down, Heather!” I bark, making her jump, and the dress slips slightly lower, showing more bruises and cuts.
Worry clouds my anger as I try to understand what made her this way. “What did you take? What was it?”
There’s no reply. Nothing coherent anyway. The state she’s in only makes the past claw its way from the depths of my mind, where I’ve buried it for so long. A part of me is torn between making sure she’s all right, while the other is furious. Rage deafens all my thoughts as I search Easton’s face, trying to make sure he’s not hurt, but he’s so dirty that it’s impossible to see anything aside from neglect.
All this time I’ve spent giving her chance after chance, trying to help her clean up her life. It was all in the hopes she would realize how lucky she is—we are—to have this little boy in our lives. All I ever wanted was for her to love him more than anything else in this world—more than herself and her addiction.
It’s never going to happen. The realization sucker punches me in the gut and chest. It leaves nothing but the reality in front of me. The selfishness of Heather’s actions stares back at me as I look about the apartment.
“If you’ve hurt my son, I’ll kill you.” The words rip from me as I turn to leave.
I’ve barely made a move when she throws herself at me. Her nails scratch down my face, narrowly missing the top of Easton’s head when I push her back into the counter. From the scream she lets out, it’s obvious she’s hurt. Right now, I couldn’t care less. Grabbing the diaper bag on the barstool, I head out while she throws shit at my back, yelling and shouting curses and slurring her words so badly, I can’t make out the crap she’s spouting.
None of it matters anyway. The only thing I need to do is get the hell out of here and make sure my boy is okay. Get him cleaned up. Warm. Away from the piece of shit he was unfortunate to have as a mother.
The elevator doors open as Heather crawls toward us. I’m not sure whether she’s crying because I’m taking him away or whether it’s because she knows that I’m done with her. My gut tells me it’s the latter as she slaps at the floor, clearly unable to translate her thoughts into coherent words.
“It’s going to be okay, East. You’re with Daddy now, buddy. We’re going to figure it all out,” I tell him, bouncing him gently in the way I know he likes.
Cupping the back of his head, I snuggle him tighter to me, pulling a large muslin from the bag on my shoulder so I can cover him up before we exit the elevator.
Thankfully, the lobby is quiet, and the doorman quickly opens the emergency door beside the revolving one. “Miss Anderson set off the emergency alarm.”
“Call the cops.” I shrug, walking straight to my Tesla.
There’s no way I’m going back up there. Easton might not need his mother, but he still needs me. He needs at least one parent that will care for him. If I come close to Heather again, right now, I’ll end up in jail. The fury inside me is so overwhelming that I can barely get Easton in his car seat.
The instant he’s out of my embrace, he cries louder and louder. The tears and the sound are heartbreaking. My gut wrenches and twists as I try to soothe him. I stroke my fingertip down his nose until he blinks the last of the tears.
“I’m sorry.” Whispering my continued apology, I press a kiss to his forehead. “I’m so damn sorry, bud.”
The apology seems worthless as he hiccups the residue of his tears. I fucked up. I let him down, and I don’t know whether I’ll ever be able to fix this or make it better. The only thing I hope for is that I’ll be enough for him because it’s going to be just the two of us from now on. No matter what.
1
SUMMER
Listening to my mother ramble on about the country club event she’s organizing is painful at the best of times, but today it feels unbearable. My landlord informed me this morning that my rent is going up. In fairness to him, I always thought my apartment was a steal, but as a part-time bartender studying for a degree with tuition bills coming out of my ears, it’s not what I needed to hear.
Here I am worrying about keeping a roof over my head, and my mother’s frantic over the ratio of vegetarian canapés to serve.
“Are you listening to me, Summer?” Her tone is irritated, but her emerald eyes are soft, showing her worry. We may not see eye to eye on most things, but I love her.
“Sorry, Mom. I was worlds away. What did you say?” My mother and I are trying to mend our strained relationship. It’s been a rough road, however, I want to make this work. My aunt Maria may be the one I turn to for advice, but Miranda will always be my mom.
“I think I need to start over with the menu. This is my first big event, and I don’t want it to be a disaster.” She shakes her head in exasperation, her perfectly coiffed red bob swaying with the action. With her ivory pantsuit and perfectly made-up face, she looks every inch the Stepford wife she’s always aspired to be.
