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“If this is what brings you there, I’ll be right by your side.”
I take a good look at his wound while he tilts my hips up and places his erection between my legs. “I do need to examine your wound and most likely give you stitches.”
“Examine something else first.”
With one swift motion, he’s inside me, and the bed creaks with our every movement.
Forty
Gage
“Are you Gage?”
I lose my breath upon looking up from Andy’s grave and seeing the woman standing next to me.
A single rose is in her hand while a tear runs down her cheek. She’s a skinny thing, barely any meat to her bones, and her hair is pulled back into a sloppy ponytail.
I know who she is, but I’ll let her do the introducing.
I stand up and wipe the dirt off the knees of my jeans. “Yes?”
“I’m Darla Long … Andy’s birth mother.”
Darla Long is a mother to four other children who were put in the system. She has had six drug overdoses, has been admitted into three different rehab facilities over the course of ten years, and has a record a mile long, full of shoplifting, solicitation, and possession charges.
As much as I should hate this woman for abandoning Andy, I can’t.
I can’t because, just like her, I let him down.
She shoves her feet against the grass. “I’m sure you hate me for what I did. I was young, an addict, and his father kicked me out on the streets when he found out I was pregnant. Another homeless woman told me that my baby would be safe if I dropped him off at the station. I stood in the shadows when you picked my baby up and rescued him. I watched him from afar while you gave him a better life than I ever could.”
“Yet I failed him.” I scrub my hands over my face and sigh.
Pain strikes across her face. “We all failed him.”
She’s right.
She did. I did. Missy did. The system did.
Why is there no better way to protect our children?
“I want to thank you,” she goes on.
Her words are like a smack in the face.
“For what?”
“For giving my son love for the time he was here. He had someone who put him first, who fed him and gave him a warm and comfortable home.” Fresh tears stream down her cheeks now. “I wish I could’ve met him before he went to heaven.”
My neck goes stiff, and my gaze turns watery. “I’m sorry you were never given that opportunity.”
Anger surfaces over the hurt. “And, that woman, I hate her. As much as I want to be angry with you, I can’t because I see your heart, and I know it was with Andy every day you had him. It’s still there. I want to thank you for trying to save my son when others, myself included, didn’t give a damn about him.”
I nod, choking back a sob, and open my arms.
She doesn’t hesitate before hugging me.
* * *
