Page 83 of Sacrifice the Knight (Checkmate 6)

“No!” His eyes shoot up. “I’m notthatsick, Mom. It’s just a cold. I’m more worried about this thing tonight. Meg is cool and all, and if you’re gonna party with anyone, she’s a good choice because she’ll create fun if there is none, but I was kinda hoping you might find a guy friend to go with. You know, someone to buy you a drink, someone to buy you a concert t-shirt, someone to ask you to dance.”

“Honey.” I continue my ruse and select a bangle from my box of party jewelry. “You need to stop worrying about my love life. I don’t want a man; I don’t need a date.” I step away from my dressing table and stop in front of him. Reaching up, I cup his warm cheeks and frown. “You’re the only man I want for now, baby. You and Grandpa are amazing, and you’re all I need. You need to stop trying to set me up with men. Plus, it’s super weird.”

“I thought you liked DeWhit.” He doesn’t step away from my hold, which means he feels the way my hands jolt like his words are electric. “He’s nice, right? He smiles a lot, and he makes you smile when you’re not snarling.”

“Ray makes me smile too, honey. Stefan and Franky make me smile. It doesn’t mean I want to date them.”

He rolls his eyes. “That’s because they’re old, Mom! They’re family. DeWhit isn’t super old, and he looks at youwaydifferent than Ray does.”

“Honey!”

“What?” He throws his hands up. “He looks at you differently. He thinks you’re pretty. He pays extra attention when you wear your blue jeans rather than the black. Helikesyou, so why don’t you at least try? What’s wrong with him?”

He left me! That’s what’s wrong with him!“I will not be sold to the highest bidder, Macallistar. You need to drop this. It’s my birthday concert night, and I won’t be leaving you for a single second if I’m arguing with you.”

“I’m not trying to argue, Mom. I’m just watching out for you.”

“And I don’t need it. Let’s go.” I move back to my dressing table and snatch up my clutch. “I’m not going to discuss this with you anymore, baby. It’s not appropriate, so if you keep it up, I’m gonna have to ground you or something.”

“Or something,” he scoffs. “Way to throw down the law, Mom.”

“Macallistar!”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s fine. Whatever. Enjoy your concert watching the old guy sing.” He follows me through the hall and into the kitchen where Daddy stands with his hip pressed to the counter and a Blair grin on his face.

“Not a word, Daddy. Not a single word.”

“I didn’t say a thing.” His dimples pop, and his eyes scream the billion words he’s not speaking. “You have fun, sweetheart. Don’t let Meg get you into too much trouble.”

“I won’t.” I don’t want to drag this out any longer than it has to be, so I snatch up my keys and drop a fast kiss on Daddy’s cheek as I pass. “I’ll be back tomorrow. I don’t want to hear about any trouble.” I stop and turn back. “I’m talking to both of you. Be good; don’t make me worry.” I snag my son’s hand and drag him toward the door. I can’t let him go until I absolutely have to. It literally pains me to know I’m walking away tonight while he’s sick and we’ve just argued. “Baby…”

Mac leans in close and drops a sweet kiss on my cheek. “You have no reason to worry, Mom. I’m older now; I’m wiser, and I know it hurts you when I’m bad.”

“Wiser.” A pathetic, tearful laugh escapes my throat. “You’re still a baby in my eyes.”

“Well, not in mine. I got this, okay? No one will come here. We won’t leave. I’m marathoning Robocop and peanut butter until I pass out. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Brush your teeth before you sleep!”Once a mother, always a mother.“And what do you do if someone comes to the door?”Like Zeke.“What then?”

He rolls his eyes. “Grandpa is right here. He can answer the door.”

I hate when he’s being reasonable. I hate even more walking away from my son while he smudges boogers under his nose and tries to breathe through a sinus infection. I’d rather stay home and eat peanut butter with my baby, but instead, I walk away from my home and slide into my little car. Looking in my rearview mirror into the backseat, I catch a glimpse of the overnight bag I stuffed in here a few hours ago. My boys needed confirmation I was going for the night. They needed to be sure I would go out and have fun, so I packed the bag and made a big deal about picking out slutty shoes.

Scoffing under my breath, I push my keys into the ignition and start the car. Pulling out of the lot, I turn left and blindly wave, because I know the guys will be watching out of the window.

Meg Montgomery has no clue she’s allegedly attending a concert with me tonight.

She’s not.

Hell, not even I’m going to that concert. And if the guys looked extra hard, they’d realize it when they found the tickets on top of my fridge in the very place I set them last month. If I were smart, I’d sell the tickets and pay next week’s rent with it, but I can’t do that. Instead, I now own two slips of paper that are worthless, but worth a whole lot at the same time. Those seats will remain empty tonight, and a couple outside the stadium will walk home sad that they couldn’t secure tickets at the last second.

I drive for only a few minutes before I reach the local motor-inn hotel I booked just yesterday.

Ihaveto leave the house, because if I let tonight pass and don’t, Daddy would be offended I wasted his gift. But I can’t go to that concert either. I don’t want to drive into the city and hang out in a massive crowd of happy people. I don’t want to sing or dance to my teenage crush’s voice, I don’t want to buy a concert t-shirt, and I don’t want to pretend I’m not hopelessly heartbroken.

So I check myself into this little hotel on the edge of town and pray crackheads can mind their own business for the night. I sign in with nothing more than a curt hello to the lady at the front desk, collect my keys, lug my bag into my shitty room, lock the door and jam a chair under the handle, then I sit on the lumpy bed in a cute outfit and watch the TV on mute.

Because I’m thirty years old, and not one single thing has changed since I was fifteen. Unloved, unwanted, and way too trusting of the male population when it comes to my body and heart. It’s been three weeks since I told a man I loved him, and three weeks since I last saw him.

Fuck you, Eric DeWhit.

I called it. I knew he’d hurt me, but nope, he just kept pushing and pushing until he broke my armor. Now I’m without protection, all alone, and crying on my own birthday celebration night.

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