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“If you’d been a fucking man and taken care of the bitch, you wouldn’t be here.”
The crunch of my fist to his jaw is followed by his to mine. Hit for hit that makes no difference to any of the real pain inside.
“Go cool off!” Barging between the two of us, Seb orders Harrison over his shoulder before turning to me and pushing Easton’s stuffed animal to my chest. “You come at me and I’ll break your fucking nose, I don’t care how pretty you are.”
Harrison scoffs as he leaves. “Whatever, assholes.”
“Now’s not the time to pull this shit.” Seb glances to the corner of the room, where Summer’s family is staring at us in shock.
Fucking great. For a fleeting moment, embarrassment flushes through me, but then the despair that won’t abate engulfs it, and I’m back to internally praying and begging for some news.
“I just want them back… I want my son and my girl back…”
“And you’ll get them ba—”
“Mr. Hawthorne?” The officer that’s been stationed outside the room approaches us, cutting off whatever Seb was about to say.
Looking between us, the younger officer takes a deep breath. My hand clenches around the monkey so tight that my knuckles threaten to pop. Fear unlike I’ve ever known drowns me.
“We’ve got eyes on the hire car.”
23
SUMMER
My hands are shaking in my lap, my clammy palms clasping one another. I’m trying to stay calm for Easton’s sake, but it’s taking every ounce of strength I have not to sob my heart out. Easton should be in the hospital, safe and with his father. How am I going to get us out of this? This is not where our story ends, not in a rental car driven by his deranged mother who forced us in at gunpoint.
My brave little man is strapped into his car seat in the back. Every now and then, his unsure eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror and gut me all over again.
“This is all your fault. But I’m going to fix this. I’ll make him see he’s just confused. Once you’re not there manipulating him, he’ll see that we’re meant to be. You’re ruining everything!” Her voice is full of scorn, disdain dripping from every word. The gun is still clutched in her hand, resting on the steering wheel.
“I’m sorry.” I try to calm things down, telling her, “I should never have gotten between the two of you.”
“You should have left us alone. We were fine without you. Now you’ve ruined everything.” Her voice is getting more shrill—she’s losing it. Her hands are shaking on the steering wheel, her eyes frantically switching between the road and me.
“I’m sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen,” I say honestly. Maybe if I talk to her, talk her down, she’ll realize this isn’t the right way to approach reuniting her family. I can’t blame her for wanting to see her son—I get that. But I sure as shit can blame her for putting his life at risk now.
“Please,” she scoffs. “You knew exactly what you were doing. My mother has told me all about you. Working for him to worm your way into his bed. It’s pathetic. You’re nothing but a convenient lay.” Her words are sharp as her lip curls in disgust. “And he’ll see that. He will. Once he’s had time to process everything, he’ll see that he’s meant to be with me and Easton. We’re a family.” Her chin jerks sharply, and she eyes me with contempt, like everything that has happened is my fault. Her addiction. Her neglect. Her spiral.
I want to lay into her so bad. I’m so furious at her, for putting Easton in harm’s way and for putting Parker through this. I’m so close to breaking point; my emotions are all over the place, and I want to scream at her, but the other part of me is terrified, knowing she’s unhinged and our fates rest in her unstable hands.
Deciding to try and reason with her, I say, “Why don’t we head back and sit down with Parker. You can tell him your—”
“Do you think I’m stupid?” she spits, the venom in her tone striking me as if her hand had made contact with my face. “As soon as I take you back, you’ll go crying to him and tell him to lock me up. You mess with his head. He doesn’t think straight with you around.”
She stops talking when she hears a sound outside. A chopping sound floods the car. It’s getting louder, and it takes me a moment to realize it’s a helicopter.
The car fills with light as it shines a spotlight on us.
It’s the police. Thank you, God.
“Shit,” she curses, flooring it. The car gathers pace just as a police car comes up behind us, blue and reds flashing.
“Fuck,” Heather shrieks, looking through the rearview mirror at the scene unfolding behind us. What’s going on inside her head is frightening, and she doesn’t even attempt to slow down.
A million thoughts race through my mind. Can we jump from the car? Should I try to take the gun? Do I attempt to take the wheel?
The bridge out of town comes into view, and I see the barricade of police cars blocking our exit. I’m part relieved and part terrified. Relieved we won’t get far but terrified how she’ll react to that.
