He stares at our clasped hands, his jaw hard. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
I release Daisy’s hand, taking a step toward my son. “There’s everything to talk about. Please don’t run away again. I want you in my life, Jess. I don’t want to lose you again.”
He swallows, his eyes cold as they move over my face. “Well, you should have thought about that before you got together with my ex.” And with that, he stomps out of the kitchen.
I stare at the photos scattered across the kitchen island, waiting for my shuddering pulse to settle. Daisy holds her breath beside me, and when I eventually glance at her, she looks stricken.
“Wes…” Her voice trembles, just like her hands as she wrings them in front of herself. “I’m so sorry—”
“Shh.” I reach for her, relieved to finally be able to pull her into my arms again. “It’s not your fault.”
“But—”
“No, baby. He was bound to find out.” I breathe in the smell of her, letting it calm me. Letting it soothe the sting in my chest from Jesse’s parting words. From knowing I’ve lost my son for good now.
“But not like this,” Daisy whispers against my chest. The front of my shirt feels wet, and when I look down, I notice she’s crying.
“I’m sorry he spoke so harshly to you.” I wipe her cheek, and she shakes her head.
“It’s not that,” she sniffles. “It’s… you’ve lost him again, Wes. After he came back.”
I sigh, fighting the tightness in my throat. Trying not to let myself think about what this means for me and Jess.
“It’s all my fault.” She tries to step away from me, but I hold her shoulders firmly.
“Don’t you dare say that. None of this is your fault.”
“They’re my photos,” she protests.
“Not all of them. Not…” I cringe, once again mentally cursing myself. “Not the most incriminating ones.”
“But if I wasn’t with you, none of this would have happened,” she presses.
“Daisy…” I take her face gently in my hands, forcing her gaze to mine. “If you weren’t with me, he never would have spoken to me. The only reason I even had him again to lose is because of you.”
But as I say these words, I have to wonder. If I’d spent the short time we had together lying to him, did I ever really have him back at all?
I glance at the dark street beyond the windows, thinking of my son, heading into the city alone. My heart crumbles at the thought of him hurting, but I shove the feeling away.
I still have Daisy, and I can’t let her see how losing Jess hurts. That’s not fair to her.
Clearing the emotion from my voice, I take a step back, trying to regain some semblance of normality for us. “We should eat,” I murmur, but Daisy shakes her head.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Me neither,” I admit.
We exchange a somber glance, and it drives a wedge into my chest. I wrench my gaze away, picking up our bags, and trudge up the stairs to the bedroom. Daisy follows me wearily, and we’re silent as we brush our teeth and climb into bed. It’s not late, but we’re exhausted and emotionally wrung-out.
We don’t make love tonight. Instead, I hold her tight, savoring her warmth, the comfort of her breath fanning over my chest, the gentle caress of her fingertips on my skin.
But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t heartbroken over my son’s words.
Over knowing I’ll never get him back now.
37
Daisy