I wasn’t expecting to see him, at least not this soon. Yesterday, after he asked me if Benny was his and I answered in truth, his initial reaction was anger. I saw it flare in his eyes. Actually, it was his only reaction. Right before he stormed out the door, got into his truck and peeled out of the driveway.
“Should I bring him over?” Tammy asks, and I can barely hear her over the thumping of my heart.
“No. I’ll, um… I’ll go there.” Whatever conversation Leo wants to have, I don’t want to have it here, and definitely not in front of my son.
Our son.
Before leaving the barn, I get dressed quickly and help Benny do the same. And then we make our way to the main house. I don’t know if he’s holding my hand or I’m holding his, but I’m grateful for it. I need strength right now, and he’s always been the one to give me that. Leo turns when he hears the barn door open, then looks away. Even when we climb up the stairs, still holding hands, Leo won’t look at us. Or, more specifically, he won’t look at Benny. I open the door and tell Benny I’ll be right back. He’s already climbing all over Dad, laughing, completely unaware that his fate might be in question.
I’m scared. I’m not ashamed to admit it. I’m terrified of what Leo’s presence means. Even though I’ve thought about this moment so often, and I thought I was prepared; it’s clear that I’m not.
When I close the door, Leo says, his tone flat, “We need to go somewhere and talk.”
He still has that rage in his eyes, the one from yesterday, only now it’s all over him. His muscles are stiff, guarded, and we’re only in his car for a total of five minutes. He drives us down the dead-end road that leads to the cliff edge that he nearly drove us over all those years ago. When we get to the end, he stops, kills the engine, and then gets out. He didn’t say a single word on the drive. I try to hide my fear before stepping out, following him to the rear of the truck. He’s sitting on the tailgate, the heels of his palms rubbing at his eyes.
I say, because I feel I like I need to say something, “Have you slept?”
He looks up now, the rage gone from those blue-blue eyes, and he just looks… worn. As if he’s been to hell and back and then hell again and this… this is his version of hell. “Could you, if you were me?” There’s no bite in his tone, no malice.
It takes way more effort than it should to climb the bed, and Leo has to help me up by tugging on my arm. In any other situation, I would’ve laughed or thought it was one of those adorable moments between couples. Now, and with Leo and me, it just seems pathetic. I don’t sit beside him. I go all the way in, my back to the side of the bed, facing him. I want to see his face, every reaction, every emotion.
“I’m trying really fucking hard not to lose my shit right now, Mia,” he grinds, his eyes shifting to mine. “How could you not fucking tell me?”
“What? Like, call you?” I snap back.
“That’s weak, and you know it.”
Weak? That single word sets me off. “I couldn’t even call you because you fucking blocked me and everyone around me out of your life! And you expect me to come crawling to you with a baby knowing you wanted nothing to do with me?”
“That’s not fair, Mia!”
“None of this is fair!” I almost shout, and I hate the tears burning behind my eyes.
“It’s not like you don’t know where I live! You could’ve come to my house!”
“No, I couldn’t!” I shake my head, fast, furious. “I couldn’t bring myself there, Leo. I just… I couldn’t.” My voice cracks on the last word, and maybe he was right. Maybe I am weak.
“You were there last week! We talked and—”
“And what was I supposed to say? I’m happy your life is going great, and you’re getting everything you ever wanted! Good luck at the academy! I know how hard you worked to get there! Oh, by the way, you have a four-year-old son!”
“Yes! Exactly that!”
I stare at him, and he stares back, and I don’t know where the heck