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Huh.
Bupkis.
Stretching a little, and wondering if I’d had too much wine with dinner last night, I encountered someone. That wasn’t too unusual now, considering Dec and I slept together every night—with Shay’s approval according to Dec—but this was different.
This one smelled of sweat, and even though he was technically not a little boy anymore, he had that odd scent that was unique to him. Like when he was dirty and grubby and it had this sweaty smell that was kinda gross, but his basic essence, and I loved it.
Sue me, I knew it was weird, and I knew he’d prefer his signature scent to be frickin’ Calvin Klein, what with how he kept spraying it on himself before school, but nope. Puppy dog’s tails and snails was how he smelled to me.
The old nursery rhyme made me laugh, but I wasn’t altogether sure why Shay was sleeping with me. In Dec’s bed. Not that I minded,at all, it was just… he’d definitely think he was too old for this.
Blinking, I squeezed him a little, and whispered, “Morning, kiddo.”
He tensed, then peered up at me, and the agony in his eyes had me wondering what I’d missed.
Cupping his cheek, I asked, “Did you have another nightmare?” We’d gotten them under control a couple of years ago, but I’d only seen him like this when he had bad dreams. Dreams so terrible he’d scream the house down.
I knew this was technically an impossibility, but my kid’s will was like no other—I was sure he’d stopped the dreams so he didn’t have to see a shrink anymore.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” I rasped.
“Don’t you remember?” he whispered, his eyes bright pink and bloodshot, tears flooding them…
Why?
Then it hit me.
Shit.
The shoot-out.
I blew out a breath. “Did I hit my head?”
“You were out of it for so long.” He closed his eyes. “Mom, I did something real bad.”
All I could do was hold him, hold him so damn tight he knew I’d never let him go, and I did just that as I whispered in his ear. “Whatever it is, we can fix it.”
His head shook from side to side. “You can’t fix death.”
I tensed. “What are you talking about, sweetheart?”
“I-I killed someone.”
Inside, I sagged. On the outside, I had no choice but to say, “It was self-defense.”
“You don’t know that. You were unconscious.”
“I know you.”
He peered up at me, biting his lip as he did so. I knew he wanted me to believe him, and I would.
Always.
I cupped his cheek, wiping the tear tracks away with my thumb as I told him, “You know this world isn’t like the one we lived in before, sweetheart. Life and death are a part of it. Your dad will fix things. Just you see.”
He gulped, but when he nodded, I sensed how badly he wanted to believe me.
Shay burrowed his face under my chin, reminding me that, no matter how old he thought he was, he was still young. So young. Just a baby.
