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“His mom is a fucking hooker. Sells herself for money or drugs, I don’t know. Her clients are nasty pieces of shit.”
I pause. This was the first I’ve heard of this. Cole hadn’t told me much about his family, but I just figured they worked a lot, which is why I didn’t mind him spending a lot of time with us over the years. “What?”
Jensen shakes his head. “Cole can explain, but he probably stepped in between some clients for his mom.”
“Brass…K-knuckles,” Cole grits out.
“Bastards.”
I agree with Jensen. I push the pitcher into his hands and grab another towel as I push my son gently out of the way. Wiping away the excess water, the blood has slowed to a trickle. It’s still deep enough that it will probably require a stitch or two. I can use some butterfly bandages till some of the swelling goes down.
Cole’s hand grips onto my waist, his fist flexing as he pulls me closer by my shirt. “I’m–”
“Shhh. Stop trying to talk.” I trail a soft finger down his jaw and then turn to Jensen. “Help me take off his shirt. If he was hit with brass knuckles in his midsection, there’s a good chance something is broken or bleeding.”
My son nods, handing me a pair of scissors from the first aid kit. I give him a small smile. I hadn’t thought about cutting it off.
Jensen laughs. “We saw it in a show one time. Cole talked about having some crazy tattoo as a jump scare to the paramedics.”
I raise an eyebrow and start cutting through the thin t-shirt. I suck in a sharp breath when I see the bruises already forming along his ribs and stomach. Jensen leans over and cusses.
“We should take him just in case,” I mutter.
Olivia
Nursesanddoctorsswarmus as soon as we get to the ER, and they wheel him to the back without allowing us to follow. Jensen watches with his hands clasped behind his head, his body tense.
I tuck myself into a chair, thankful for the sweatshirts that were left in Jensen’s truck and are covering the blood on both of us. After a few moments, my son comes to sit next to me.
“You know what’s fucked up?” he whispers.
“What?” I turn to face him.
He laughs softly. “One of my first thoughts was that if you two were married, you would have been allowed back with him. But I’m still struggling to accept what you guys did.”
I hold out my hand for him to grab. He does, and I lean onto his shoulder. “Sometimes things just are. They don’t have to make sense, especially in situations like this where someone we love is hurt.”
Squeezing his fingers, I lick my drying lips. “Want to know my first thought?”
“Yeah.”
“How nice it was to see doctors actively trying to help him instead of him being walked straight to the morgue.”
Jensen tenses. “Jesus, mom.”
“Sorry,” I apologize, forgetting how young he still is. He probably barely remembers the days following his father’s death. Most of that time blurs, but a few instances never leave my mind. They constantly sit on replay or I suddenly have flashbacks when I’m reminded.
After an hour of no updates, Jensen settles into the chair, playing on his phone. I venture around to the lobby to get something to drink. When I pass the receptionist's desk, I clear my throat to get her attention.
She smiles up. “We still have no updates.”
“Oh. I figured. Um...this is going to sound odd. Do you guys have pregnancy tests for sale?”
The woman blinks slowly. “Pregnancy tests. Uhh. No, but we could administer one for you.”
I blanche. “Oh, no thank you. I don’t want a bill for that, I’ll just wait.”
She chews on the corner of her lip. “Sorry.”
