She turned to look at me. Her face revealed her surprise at seeing me but was quickly replaced by anger. “Nash,” she said coolly.
“How are you?”
She rolled her eyes. “None of your business.”
“Saige,” I said her name again. I missed saying her name. I missed touching her. I missed everything about her.
“Don’t,” she said and held up a finger. “Never say my name again. I doubt your wife would appreciate you seeing your old booty call. Congrats by the way. It seems your desire to remain footloose and fancy free was short-lived.”
“I can explain.”
“Don’t bother. I don’t care. I dodged a bullet. You’re her problem now.”
She walked out of the coffee shop and never looked back. I felt an actual sense of grief when she walked out of my life. Seeing her again stirred up those old feelings. I refused to admit I might have made a mistake. Marrying Mel was the right move.
Chapter 51
Saige
I checked the time and was surprised to see Jace still wasn’t out of his room. I had called him for breakfast fifteen minutes ago. I let him sleep in on Saturdays, but this was really late for him. I stopped folding laundry and made my way to his bedroom.
I knocked on his door, remembering he wasn’t a little kid and deserved a modicum of privacy. “Jace,” I said. “Are you up? Your breakfast is going to get cold.”
He didn’t answer. That worried me. I pushed open the door and found him sitting on his bed and reading. “Jace, did you hear me call you?”
“Yeah,” he murmured without looking up.
“Jace, hello? I’m talking to you. Can you look at me please?”
“What?”
He still refused to look at me. He was eight and way too young for this kind of attitude. I walked to his bed and sat down near his feet. “Jace, put the book down and look at me,” I said in authoritative voice. It was my mom voice. The one I used when I was not messing around.
He made a big show of putting the book in his lap and glaring at me. “What?” he said with a huff.
I raised an eyebrow. “Do you need to go back to bed?”
“No.”
“What’s wrong?”
His little face scrunched up. “I’m mad at you.”
That was not what I expected to hear. “You’re mad at me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” I asked.
“You were mean to Nash.”
I shook my head. “What? What do you mean?”
“You got mad at him. He didn’t do anything wrong.”
I was mad at Nash. I blamed him for the fight. My son would never attack another kid. It was Nash’s idea to take him to a boxing gym. Nash showed him how to hit another human. I wanted a male influence in his life but not like that. My plan to have a man in his life to give him a healthy testosterone-fueled influence backfired. Now I had a kid that didn’t hesitate to pop someone in the mouth if he didn’t like what they said.
“Jace, I know you don’t understand, but Nash was wrong. It’s an adult thing.”
“He helped me!” he shouted and slapped his hand on the bed.
“Jace, punching someone because you don’t like what they say is wrong. You can’t go around hitting people!”
“He was being mean to Caitlyn!” he said. “I get beat up and you don’t get mad.”
“I did get mad,” I argued. “I got very mad. Doing what he did does not make it right. I’m going to tell you something I was always told. Two wrongs don’t make a right. You can’t lower yourself to their standards.”
He looked confused. “Mom, that kid hit me. I didn’t tell you all the times he picked on me. It was a lot. Now he’s not going to hit me again.”
“But Jace, you hurt him,” I told him. “You hurt someone. How does that make you feel?”
He shrugged. “I’m glad he isn’t going to hurt me or Caitlyn. I can protect her now. That should make you happy.”
“I am happy you can protect her and yourself,” I told him. “Self-protection does not mean you hit first.”
“He was going to hit me. Then all the other kids would have hit me. I had to do it first.”
I hated that he was right. It was awful that he had to decide whether or not to hurt someone or be hurt. “I’m sorry,” I told him. “I’m so sorry you have to deal with this at all.”