Page 30 of Shattered
"I'm screwed up?" Eli was starting to get worked up too. He unfolded his arms and pushed off the wall. "When was the last time you looked in the mirror? I'm not the one with issues here. And it's because of those issues that you are too blind to see that that woman is taking you for one hell of a ride."
It happened so fast. One moment Eli was talking smack and the next my fist connected with his jaw.
"Hey!" I heard momma yell. "I did not raise a bunch of disrespectful hooligans. There is a little girl in here." It was only when momma mentioned her that I saw Molly, her frightened eyes bouncing between her father and me.
As I glared at Eli, who was rubbing his jaw, I couldn't bring myself to apologize to him. He deserved it but Molly didn't deserve to see it. Dropping to my knees, I took her small hands in mine.
"I'm sorry you had to see that, Molls." I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and then apologized to my mom for not being able to stay for dinner. Just as I grabbed my helmet off the bike seat I heard footsteps behind me.
If Eli was ready for an ass whooping, I was more than happy to oblige. Ripe for a fight I spun on my heel to find my dad there.
"Sorry, Pop. I gotta go."
Dad ran his palm over his gray beard and regarded me for a second. "He is fighting his own battle, I know it's not an excuse-"
"No, Pop, it isn't. Do you even know what he accused Harper of in there?" Just thinking about it had my blood boiling again. "How dare he? He doesn't even know her."
"Neither do you, son." Dad's words were laced with caution.
I shook my head. "Maybe I don't know her story, maybe I never will." I pulled my shoulders up in a shrug. "But, Pop, everything I need to know is right there when I look at her or when I touch her." I took a deep breath and then said, "She's in my bones."
When I woke up on Saturday morning smiling, I knew Logan had something to do with it. After a quick shower, brushing my teeth and donning sweats and a tee, I walked to the mirror to pull my hair into its usual knot but paused halfway through.
I started wearing it up after I'd left Drew; he liked to use my long strands as a lever—dragging me through the house by it. So, tying it up in a knot was my way of being defiant without having to cut it all off.
Today, though, I wanted it loose. I wanted my hair to be as free as I felt. Instead of knotting it, I pulled the brush through a few times and let my mane do its thing. On my way to the kitchen, I popped my head into Flynn's room; all that was peeking out from beneath the covers were his unruly blonde strands.
I figured I had another hour before he woke up so I went to make some coffee and decided to have it on the porch. Calm and at peace that was how I'd describe my mood when I opened my door.
That all changed the moment I looked down. Right there on my welcome mat was a single dead tulip. The coffee I was holding dropped to the ground, tarry liquid and shattered pieces of glass going everywhere, but my focus stayed on the lonely flower. If it had been any other flower, I wouldn't have cared.
But tulips?
As pretty as they were, I hated them. Whenever Drew became violent or verbally abusive, he'd apologize with tulips. At one point every single room in our house held a bunch or two.
On shaky legs, I bent down to pick up—and dispose of—the horrendous reminder of days I longed to forget. An uneasy feeling took hold of me as I straightened. It felt almost as if I were being watched.
Careful not to step on any of the broken pieces at my feet I made my way down the porch, all the while scanning my surroundings. As far as small towns went Willow Creek was safe that's not to say it didn't have its problems or that it was crime free.
As I sank my feet into the grass, I still was unable to shake the feeling that I was being scrutinized. Slowly I made my way to the gate, my heart thundering louder and louder with every step I took.
Except for a few birds singing their happy morning songs, all was quiet. With my hands planted on my gate, I took one more look down the street, just to assuage myself. It didn't matter how long or hard I looked, it was still just me, the birds, Mrs. Jenson on her porch and my overactive imagination awake that early.
Shaking my head, I turned to head back inside but ended up staring at Logan's house. Was he in there? I contemplated phoning him and inviting him over for breakfast but then decided against it.
After I'd cleaned up the porch and made a new cup of coffee I got started on Flynn's favorite breakfast—chocolate chip pancakes. Just as I ladled the first dollop into the pan, my little man came wobbling into the kitchen.
"Hey baby," I greeted him. "Did you have a good sleep?"
Flynn's small face twisted into a frown as he shook his head. Concerned, I pulled the pan off the stove and dropped to my knees in front of him. "Did you have a bad dream?"
His little lip trembled slightly while he nodded his head. "Wanna tell mommy about it?"
There was a long pause, and I thought he was going to clam up like he always did when he had a nightmare. Only he didn't. "There was a bad man and he came and took me from you and I couldn't find you."
"It was just a dream, baby. I'll never leave you," I told him—and myself—as I pulled him into my chest and just held him. A heavy uneasiness settled in my heart and I tried not to read too much into the damn flower or Flynn's nightmare.
By late afternoon the morning's events were pushed to the back of my mind. I'd made sure that Flynn and I kept plenty busy and every opportunity I got I made sure to reassure him that his mommy wasn't going anywhere—not if it was up to me, anyway.
