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As I look at my shattered reflection, an odd sense of power rushes through me. It’s a much headier feeling than the hopelessness I felt moments ago. I’m fucking tired of feeling weak. Insignificant. I may never trust another man as long as I live, but I’m not going to cower. I refuse to allow another man to bring harm to my family.
I drag the bat behind me as I move to the kitchen counter. I can hear Miley Cyrus singing “Wrecking Ball” as I slam the bat into the box of chocolates. The gold foil splits in two as the contents fly across the counter. Readjusting my stance, I swing again, causing the oversized birthday card and balloons to go flying through the air. My adrenalin is pumping. Despite the shitshow that is my life, I feel alive.
I take one last swing of the bat, savoring the feel and sound of the heavy glass cracking as wood connects with the thick crystal vase. Flowers, water, and shards of glass fly through the air, adding another layer of fallen debris onto the counters and floors.
My heart is pounding against my ribs as I drop the bat to the floor with a clatter.
The angel on my shoulder is now using a megaphone. Your life might be a mess, but it’s not over, Jillian. Keep moving forward. Do not let one more man destroy you and your children. Your only crime was letting someone in. Keep your fucking head held high!
I’ve barely finished my mental mantra before I sense something in my periphery and realize I’m not alone. Closing my eyes, I gulp down the huge lump in my throat. Turning my head, I reopen them to find my mother and my children hovering by the front door.
“Mama?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Jillian
Holy shit.What have I done?
“Caleb, it’s okay, baby.” I try to sound convincing.What a joke.
They all appear in shock as they take in the space. My eyes connect with Myla’s, and she immediately tucks herself behind my mother’s leg.
“Did someone break in?” my mother asks.
“No. It… it was just an accident.”
I try to find the words to shield my kids from this, but there’s no use. Dropping my voice, I ask, “Mom, can you take them for a while longer?” I bite back tears. I can’t let them see anything else that will cause them to worry more. “I just need a little time,” I say as I look behind me at the disaster I’ve made. I try to mouth, “I’ll explain later.”
My mother looks as scared as the children. “Yes, of course, honey.” I can tell her mind is going a mile a minute, trying to figure out how to best be there for both her daughter andgrandkids, even though I’m certain she thinks I’ve finally lost it. “I’d been promising a sleepover.”
“Thank you,” I mouth again as I slowly walk over to my children. Truitt is thankfully too tired and young to question what’s happening. I give him a light kiss on his head and lean in to my mother. “Whatever you do, do not turn on the news.”
As I pull back, I watch as her eyes hold mine, the understanding starting to emerge. She swallows hard, a look of dread crossing her face. “Are you sure you’re going to be all right, Jillian?”
“Yes.” That angel on my shoulder is working overtime. I lift my chin defiantly. “I’ve never been more certain of anything.”
Yeah, just keep telling yourself that.
Squatting down in front of Caleb, I gently cup his cheeks. “Everything’s going to be all right. I promise. Be a big boy for Mama and help Gammy with Truitt, okay? I’ll see you in the morning.”
Caleb simply nods, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. The sight causing me to blink rapidly to keep my tears at bay. This child never cries. He always finds a way to self soothe to keep a happy disposition. I’ve often wondered if it isn’t his superpower. Or if he’s wise beyond his years and puts on a brave face for Myla and me.
Stepping over to my daughter, I pull her into my arms. “Myla, please help Gammy and Caleb for me. We’ll talk tomorrow. I promise,” I whisper, trying hard to steady my voice against the sobs, beckoning to be free. “Please don’t be afraid. Everything is okay.”
She doesn’t reply but continues to stare up at me with those wide blue eyes. Why did I snap and lose it like this? It’s as if my rage at Luca combined with the ever-festering anger at Dillon to create a force I couldn’t contain. But at what cost? How much ground have I lost with her?
These kids have been through so much, and you go and pull a number like this. The taunts by the devil on my other shoulder come. I knew she wouldn’t sit quietly and be outdone, but she’s right.
My mother turns for the door, keeping all of my little ducks under her wings.
“I love you. I’ll see you in the morning.” But I know nothing I say will change what they walked into.
Jeez, Jillian. You could’ve poured a little spaghetti sauce on the floor, and they wouldn’t have been worried about a thing.
An hour later, I’ve taken a scalding hot shower, and changed into a pair of old sweatpants and a T-shirt. While the first half of my shower was a pity party for one, the second half was a bit more therapeutic. And now I’m feeling the need to purge.
Probably still fueled by more anger than what’s healthy, I start on the third floor and frantically gather anything and everything of Dillon’s. Placing photographs and old army mementos in grocery bags, I decide to erase any memory of men who’ve brought pain to my life and my children’s lives.
