29

Katrina

Iwalk my diner, serve my tables, bus the dirty dishes, and slap my son’s hand when he should be doing his homework but plays on his phone instead. He’s a little quieter the last day or so, and though I have plans to corner him later if he doesn’t perk up and talk, my plans come screeching to a standstill when the front door opens and the jingling bell announces his arrival.

Hisarrival.

Electricity has always crackled in the air when he’s in here, but his absence makes it more potent. It makes his power more concentrated. It makes it so I find it hard to breathe, but then Mac tosses his phone down with an exhale. “Finally.”

“Finally?” I look from my son to the man I so desperately want to forgive. “Finally what? Finally what, Macallistar?”

“Katrina?” Eric’s voice is gravelly and rough. Quiet, but powerful. His eyes skim my body, over my hips, my waist, my chest. He undresses me with his eyes and reminds me of the power he possesses when he literally does nothing more than look.

“Umm…” Two months, and this man has not stepped foot through that door until now. Two months of wondering why I’m so unlovable, so repulsive, so forgettable. Only to find out that I was none of those things – small mercies, I guess – but that someone came before me. Two someones, and now they’re both gone.

“Can I have five minutes of your time?” He speaks from across the room, so everyone in the diner stops and watches us. It’s the story of my life since the night he decided to step between me and Zeke. For more than a decade, I’ve worked here and caused no trouble at all, but then you mix an ex, a new, and a teenager, and I’m in the middle of every scene this diner knows. “Just five minutes, please. If you wanted to come for a walk.” He nervously points into the snowy street. “I know it’s cold. You could wear my coat.” He yanks the army green jacket off, then his furry hat, and extends both. “I’m begging you for five minutes. Then I’ll leave you alone.”

I narrow my eyes to cover the ache I feel in my chest. “Really?” I clear the croak from my voice. “Five minutes, and then you’re gone?”

His lips twitch. “Well… until tomorrow, probably. I’ve found I can’t go much longer than that before I slip up.”

“Go, Mom.” Mac slides out of his booth and accepts the coat Stefan offers him. He feeds my arms through the sleeves without my conscious permission as I continue to stare, to catalogue, to take my hit of this mystery drug I so desperately wish I didn’t have to quit. “Give him a minute to talk.

“Please come with me?” Eric reaches out for my hand after he shrugs his coat back on. “I’m begging you to come with me. I don’t want to drag you out kicking and screaming. That’s something a Bishop would do, but if it’s what needs to happen so I can get you to hear me, I’ll do it.”

“Threats won’t win you any favors, DeWhit.” I smack my son’s hand away again when he zips me up and lifts my collar to keep my neck warm. “Whatever you’ve gotta say is probably going to hurt me, and if I’m being real honest, I don’t think I can take anymore.”

“I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to be in the same space as you for five minutes, with your attention focused on me, and if I’m extra lucky, a smile, rather than the tears I see in your eyes or the way your lips quiver.”

“I’m not crying because you upset me. They’re not real tears. It’s because I angry cry, and I really,reallyhate that about myself.”

“I love it,” he whispers. Stepping forward, he takes my hand and glances toward the frozen windows. “Walk with me for five minutes. I’ll keep you safe. Then I’ll bring you right back to the warmth.”

It’s almost like stepping up to the edge of a cliff and preparing to jump. You know a parachute will catch you. You know it’s not actually, truly dangerous, but you close your eyes and squeal anyway. Because stepping off the ledge is terrifying, even when someone swears up and down that you’re safe.

Even if that someone is broad and strong, and once upon a time, you could have sworn they would never mess up.

I let him lead me through the door and into a freezing cold breeze. It’s not super windy out, but cold enough to make my ears ache and my toes curl in my sneakers. My teeth chatter within a minute, but my heart gives a stupid little splat when he drops his hat onto my head and squishes it down so my ears are covered.

“What do you want, Eric?” I try to pull my hand away, but he squeezes it in his, then pulls my arm into his so we walk hip to hip. “It’s freezing out here, and my kid just saw us leave together. It violates that rule I had about not letting him think something is going on when it’s not true.”

“Do you see us now, Katrina?” His voice is almost whimsical, pleasant, and soft. “We’re walking in public; I’m holding you near, and I decided it was time to not be scared anymore.”

I hate, hate,hatethat my angry tears betray me and turn to something else completely. Tears of grief, of pain, of sadness. “I can’t go around and around with you if it’s always going to end with me crying. I’m not strong enough.”

“But you are.” He reaches his arm around and pulls me in so my chest rests against his ribs. I’m so cold, and more predominantly, so desperate for him, I wrap my arms around his hips and go with it.

“You’re the strongest woman I know, and I know some straight up crazies. I’m sorry for hurting you.” He brushes the hair back out of my eyes and tucks it behind my ear. Then he seals my fate and drops a gentle kiss on my brow. “It hurt me too, I promise. I’m miserable without you, but I swear I was only trying to do the right thing. I was trying to keep you safe.”

“You didn’t give me a choice,” I argue back. “You took my choices away when you thought you knew what was best for me, even after we talked, we danced, we said we love each other.” I loathe how my voice cracks. “You took my choices away, and instead left me all alone with no answers. You broke my fucking heart, Eric. For two months! And then I found out about Gemma and Callie.”

I try to pull away, but again, he stops me by squishing me close. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you everything straight away. That was horribly unfair.”

“And I’m so sorry about your family!” Tears fall over my cheeks, over my bottom lip, and leave a trail of cold behind. “If we’re going to talk unfair, I think maybe you get that title. I can’t even tell you how sorry I am. I get why you’re protective. I get what you were trying to protect me from. I’m so truly sorry they did that to you.” I press my left hand to my chest. “But you hurt me, Eric. You abandoned me for two fucking months without a word, and I’m not built to take hit after hit like that. You could have just told me, and then I wouldn’t have been blindsided. You could have shared the load in one of the billion times you asked for the specials. I would have sat with you and listened. But now I’m barely holding on, you hurt me so much, but even with that, I canstillonly focus on you. I desperately want to know if you’re okay. If you’re coping. If you’re seeing someone to help you through your grief, because there’s no way in hell I could survive what you have. I can’t…” I shake my head. “I literally wouldn’t survive losing my son.”

“I’m doing… okay. It’s been a long time, so I’ve learned to deal with it.”

“Deal with it,” I scoff. “I thought I wasn’t built to survive you, but something happening to my baby…” I shake my head. “It’s unimaginable. It’s… I couldn’t– I can’t– I wouldn’t–”