“Mam?” Hawk prodded, reminding me that he was waiting for an answer that was far too complex for his age.
“A tumor is like a bump. You know when you hit your knee, or your elbow and it gets red and swollen? Well, that’s what I have inside my head.”
He frowned. “How did it get there?”
“It started off very small, and it was nothing. But then it got bigger and kept growing.”
Hawk nodded slowly. “How do you get it out of your head?”
“I can’t get it out of my head. It will stay there.”
I was walking a very thin line as a parent. There was being truthful with Hawk, and then there was outright scaring him.
He flung himself into my arms and started to cry, big, soul-wracking sobs that shook his young body.
“I don’t want you to die,” he whispered.
I brushed a kiss across the top of his head. “I know, love. I know.”
“Will you go to Heaven?”
I was pretty sure I’d be going to Hell for all the things I had done, but I would not use my child as my confessor. It might’ve been a good idea to speak to Father Brooks.
“What do you think?” I asked instead.
He nodded. “Aye, you’ll go to Heaven. Will I go there, too?”
“Some day. But not for a long, long time.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I do,” I lied.
I knew nothing, and perhaps making a promise I had no control over wasn’t the smartest move, but he needed comfort more than anything.
“Let’s lay back down and listen to the rain,” I suggested. “Your dad is on his way home.”
“I know, he told me. I miss him.”
“Me too.”
He tucked himself into my side, his warm little body a solid comfort even though he was crying himself to sleep. I remained awake long after he’d gone quiet, dreading the reckoning that was coming.
Knowing I was going to face Flynn.
I fell asleep to the sounds of Scottish rain drumming on the roof, my eldest child cradled in my arms.
My phone beeped, jarring me awake. I was careful not to jostle Hawk as I searched for my cell which was nestled between us.
It beeped again and again. Frowning, I peered at the alert on the screen.
“Oh, shit,” I murmured.
Chapter46
FLYNN
The rain turned to snow.I should’ve listened to Charles. I should’ve stayed in London, went ahead with the press conference, and gave the storm time to blow out.
