Page 90 of Sacrifice the Knight (Checkmate 6)

“Spence is yoursecurity specialist, not Eric? The very same Eric who also works at Checkmate and likes to hold your hand when he thinks no one is watching?”

“We don’t hold hands!” I slam my locker closed and head toward the door. “Eric is…” I blow out a gusty breath. “Eric was a customer one time, but he hasn’t been in here for a month. He’s done with our burgers for now.”

“But…” Exasperated, he follows me into the hall. “Why the hell isn’t he your security guy, sweetpea? It’s the logical choice.”

“Why should he be? That’s like getting mad that Ray isn’t my security guy.” I grab the full coffee pot on my way back into the dining area and head directly for the man I speak of. “Morning, Ray. Sleep well?”

“Yup.” He slides his mug closer so I can pour. “You guys okay? I heard you shout my name like I did something wrong. Now I’m not saying you’re wrong, because fifty years of marriage has taught me when a female screeches my name, it was probably my fault. But still, I’d like to know the charges, please.”

“No.” I drop a hand on his shoulder and squeeze. “You’re not in trouble. I was just using you to make a point.”

He chuckles so his jowls move. “All the pretty girls do that.”

Turning back to Stefan, I almost scald us both when he’s closer than I realized and we bump together. “It’s not what you think it is, so I need you to drop it. I’m begging you.” Whirling away, I fill more mugs as Tammy whips plates of breakfast from the kitchen and deposits them on tables. Heading to the cake fridge, I take out an oat muffin and toss it into the microwave for twenty seconds. Then I make a chocolate milkshake with an extra scoop of ice cream. Stefan watches every move I make, but I ignore him and watch my son instead.

Mac sits in a booth with his head bowed low holding a ratty book about princesses and kingdoms that the school gave each of the kids to read, but he stares at his hand the gym athletic trainer wrapped last night. They assured us nothing is broken; there’s absolutely nothing wrong, but a little swelling might hinder his plans to train on the weekend, so they’re wrapping it for now and reminding him to apply ice regularly.

I struggle for breath as I remember the way my son roared last night and hit his own father so hard, he knocked him to the ground. I’m not sympathetic to Zeke, but my baby shouldn’t have to know a world where this is his reality. He shouldn’t have to know what it is to choose between the two people who created him, or what it looks like when his father sprawls so fast, the coffee table we eat takeout on exploded beneath his weight.

My son deserves a regular life with a mom and a dad, a white picket fence, and probably a golden retriever. But all he got was an unwed idiot, long hours in a diner, shoes he has to make last until his toes practically pop out of the front, and a mother so stressed her stress makes him stressed.

I hate that this is how it’s worked out for us. I hate even more that I still wish Eric would change his mind and come back to us. And Iespeciallyhate that I keep glancing toward his occupied booth, hoping he’ll walk in any second and tell me it’s going to be okay.

He owes us nothing, but his quiet confidence always made me comfortable. Though an unwed idiot should know not to get comfortable, because it sure as shit never lasts.

I finish the milkshake and pour it into a tall to-go cup, then I plop a straw in the top, snatch the warm muffin as I pass, and place the items in front of Mac and a kiss to the top of his head. “I love you, baby. I love you more than you could ever know.”

“I do know.” He smiles so his little dimples show, then he snags the milkshake and brings the straw between his lips. “I love you too, Mom. More than you’ll ever know.”

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