child?
“You bastard,” I growl. “You goddamn bastard.” My hands fist and fly to his chest. I know it’s wrong. I know no one should ever raise a hand to anyone. I know it’ll cause damage that isn’t physical, but I can’t stop the pain flowing through me toward his chest. “I hate you! So much! Fuck you!” The words are hysteric, just like me and the tears drowning me. The pain is vital and real. The ache ripping open into a cavern of self-loathing and disgust.
“Joey,” Francis tries, but my vision is too blurry. The tears won’t stop, and the hurt won’t ease, and the hatred won’t go away.
Toby grips my fists and holds them as if they’re as precious as they are despicable. If he knew just how much damage these hands have caused me in the last year, would he care? He doesn’t even know I started cutting again. That my mental health sank because of his lack of care. His tactless cheating and unredeemable behavior left me on the verge of suicide, but he doesn’t see me.
The ice queen. The frigid. The invisible.
Chapter Thirty-One
Earlier That Week
Lo
Life hands you cards.
Pick a card, any card! It doesn’t warn you they are placed for our ruin, and it’s up to us to make sure we win and they do not.
“Peaches,” Jase says, smacking my mind back to focus. I’m cooking street tacos. Whether Ace will admit it or not, he lives for coming home during his breaks to eat my food. He’s jaded, my baby boy. Since Jase and I fell apart six years ago, he has been this hollow version of himself. It’s only when we’re alone and watching movies that my little man comes out. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him smile and even longer since I’ve witnessed him laugh.
The only time he truly breaks free is when no one is watching and he’s outside with Jazzy and Lev. Jazz is a teen now, it hasn’t been as worrisome as I’d have imagined. She’s soft-spoken, kind, and needy.
It only hurts wondering if all the pain Jase and I caused will ruin her for when she’s older. Codependency has its downfalls. One of them being falling in love. When Jase is gone for more than a few hours at nights, she gets skittish.
She has a lot of friends, and when they fight, the world tends to be ending in her eyes.
It scares me for her future.
Maybe I’m a glutton for anxious thoughts, but all I want for my babies is happiness.
“You okay there?” Jase muses, carrying a dirty Lev. He’s smudged from head to toe in ink.
“I’m about to ask you the same,” I say on a laugh. Lev hides behind his dad, and I know he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t be. “What did you get yourself into, mister?” Lev refuses to look at me, and Jason just chuckles.
“As you can tell, he’s been sneaking into the office and playing with my signature stamp.” He kisses our boy on his nose, and my heart melts. It’s like Lev reset something in Jase. Even while his temples gray a little, showing his age, he’s taking being a new-again dad with ease, and I’m somehow more in love with him.
These past few years, I struggled. The overwhelming feeling of not being enough killed me. That’s why he stopped running Collins & Co, stepping down so I could become a full-time chef. It took him time to adjust, but it was well worth it.
Counseling saved us.
Love fixed us.
Our pain brought us closer.
When Jase places loud kisses on Lev’s cheeks, he giggles and stops hiding. “There’s my little prince.”
“Mama,” he coos, and my heart feels like it’s being squeezed in all the right ways.
“That’s right, baby,” I say, kissing his little nose. Diving into his sides with my fingers, I make him break out into a fit of laughter.
When I look past Jase, I see my other baby boy, who claims he’s not a baby anymore. “Hey, baby boy.” He rolls his eyes, and I melt. He never does that anymore. It’s like the world—my damage—hid the mundane emotions in a barrier of hatred.
Jase turns to greet Ace, but his expressionless mask is back in place, and I’m still unsure how to fix any of that. It hurts to see them against each other. “Will you wash up Lev?” I ask him, wanting a moment with Jase to tell him what happened today.
Or rather, what has been unfolding