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She leaves me a mess, having no idea how much she just shredded my heart and fixed it with one hug.
I sit down heavily, emotionally wrought. How can a situation born of something so dark make me feel so much joy?
Andrew won’t be the only one in hell, but at least Ajax will be with me.
I stay lost in thought, glancing up every few minutes. My fingers flick at small rocks and stones in the grass by my hips.
A pained cry makes my head shoot up.
Mary!
I scramble up and rush over. Mary is on her knees crying, her scratched hands look red and sore. Her new friend is crouched, patting her shoulder while the other kids crowd around. A few of the older boys are laughing.
I drop down in front of her. “Mary.” I frame her face, wiping her tears with my thumbs. “What happened?”
“Mommy. I, he, I.” She struggles to speak through her tears.
“He pushed her,” the small boy tells.
My heart turns to stone, following his finger to one of the older kids. He’s as tall as I am.
“Is that true?” I ask Mary.
She nods. I tuck my hands under her arms and help her to her feet.
“Let me see,” I whisper, gently bringing her open palms closer. A few small stones are stuck to her skin. Softly, I knock them off and blow warm air onto the irritated skin. “We’ll clean them, and Daddy will kiss it better.”
“Okay,” she hiccups.
“Are you hurt anywhere else, Piglet?” I whisper. My voice is as shaky as my body.
“My knee.” Her words end on a wail when she looks down to see her newly repaired overalls ripped. The yellow and pink threads are loose, the flower distorted and ruined.
“Piglet,” one of the teens laughs.
The redhead boy who pushed her starts to make oink noises, his friends joining in, and I snap.
Standing, I spin and advance quickly. The little shit doesn’t react, just laughs more until I put my hands on his shoulders and shove him with all my might.
The prick falls heavily, letting out a sound close to a scream. His friends’ laughter turns to him, and his face flames.
“Fucking bitch!”
“Consider yourself lucky it wasn’t her dad, you little shit,” I spit out.
My chest heaves, my breath catching. I can barely breathe. I gather Mary up into my arms. Every cry she gives breaks my heart.
“Come on,” I say, holding my hand out for the little boy. He doesn’t argue, and we head for the lot where the group of neighbors still stand.
“Where’s your mom?”
He points at a beautiful blonde sitting on a lawn chair with a group of women next to where Ajax’s group is. I escort him over, not letting his little hand go until his mom has a hold of him. Without a word, I walk through the group, past everyone asking questions, desperate to get my baby home.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Ajax
Rage and fear fill me like never before when I see my girls storming past the group.
