Page 42 of Crusher

“Talk to me, bud,” I hear my husband rasp, “Your mama said you were always full of smiles, always laughing, but the boy I’ve seen tonight hasn’t been anywhere near.”

I hear a sniffle, and my heart breaks when my son sobs, “I hurt Mama,” I squeeze my eyes tight, “She-she loves me so much she put me in football even if money was short, but I told her I hated her…”

Oh no…

“Kayden,” Hayes says, “she knows you didn’t mean it, and she understands that everything has been difficult. She understands that you were hurt and angry.”

“I-it isn’t okay, I-I was mean, and-and now I feel bad,” he cries, “What if she hates me?”

I flinch at his words, and my tears fall, my whole being wanting to rush into that room and comfort him, but my head knows I can’t.

He needs his father this time.

“Listen to me, and listen good,” Hayes states firmly, “Your mama loves you to the moon and back, the reason she breathes is you, she could never hate you. She understands why you were hurt and angry, and she’s not mad at you.”

I hear Kayden sniffle before he whispers, “I want to go to the house with you and Mama, I don’t want to be here anymore.”

I flinch again, not shocked that Rose Hill would be the last place he’d want to live, and not because his father is in Hill Crest, though it helps. He was shot, and he’s scared, and now I feel like I’m traumatizing my own child for wanting to stay here.

Damn… My stomach knots, and worry hits me.

Was this the wrong move?

“You know about the house?” Hayes asks softly, and I hear my son, our son, reply, “Mama said it was her favorite place on earth as long as you were there as well.”

Our son with no filter...

Crap.

“I want to go home, Daddy, but I don’t want Mama to hate me. I don’t want her to stay. I need her…” Kayden whispers, and my tears fall hard and fast. I close my eyes as their murmurs grow softer, Hayes tries to comfort our seven-year-old before things grow quiet, and I know Kayden is nearly asleep.

I should get up, I should act like I don’t know anything, but I don’t, I stay seated.

I hear soft footsteps, and I open my eyes just as Hayes walks out of Kayden's room. He softens seeing me, the tears staining my cheeks, and he bends and murmurs, “Come on, baby,” and takes my hands.

I allow him to help me up, but I remove his touch when I’m standing, making him sigh and follow me as I walk into the living area, taking a seat on the love seat, far away from the couch, and he sighs again.

“Has he been to school at all?” Hayes begins as he takes a seat on the couch closest to me, eyeing my hoodie. I shake my head as I wipe away the fallen tears with my sleeve, his sleeve…

“I didn’t think it would be appropriate to send him back to that school. The kids and teachers want him to return, but he was shot, you know, our little seven-year-old shot, nearly died because of a deranged woman, and I couldn’t breathe with the thought of him returning there. His principal agreed to virtual learning and has sent at least four months' worth of schoolwork, and my boss agreed to allow him to be at work,” I explain, and he nods.

“Nightmares?” he asks, and I nod and admit, “Every night he wakes up screaming and crying.”

He sighs as he leans back on the couch, his eyes taking in my apartment.

“Has he seen the therapist yet? He mentioned you signed him up to see someone,” he asks, as he eyes the photo of him and me on the mantel – our wedding day.

“First session was yesterday, apparently Mr. Garrels was more interested in asking our son if I was single,” I reluctantly admit, the man shouting in his office coming back to me as Hayes growls like a damn dog. Sighing, I admit, “I ran into the room when I heard a shout, only to find Mr. Garrels bleeding. Your son punched him when he asked if he would be up for a step daddy.”

“Good kid,” Hayes mutters, and I roll my eyes.

“Stay focused, Hayes,” I snip, and he smirks.

“Sorry,” he says, though I don’t think he means it. He gets serious and asks, “What are the chances of you and him coming home?” I open my mouth, but he puts his hand up, which makes me narrow my eyes, and he says, “I don’t mean here either. This isn’t your home, and you know it, so does he…”

I clench my jaw, but Hayes continues before I can snap at him, “Freckles, being here, it’s too much for him and I know you have your job, I know you have the ice, and you were hoping he’d be able to heal but he can’t. He sees that woman wherever he goes, he dreams about her, can you honestly tell me if he had nightmares in Hill Crest?”

“He had one or two,” I admit with a whisper, and he nods.