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“Nox… Nox.” I hear Gunnar from somewhere in the locker room. “Nox, you in here?” The panic in his voice has my hackles raising.
“I’m here,” I say, rounding the corner to find a frantic-looking Gunnar, holding his phone to his ear.
“We have to go. I’ll drive. Come on.” Pressing his phone to his ear, he yells, “Fuck, she won’t answer!”
“What the fuck is going on?” Dread fills me, my mind racing with thoughts of where Emerson and Kiran are right now.
“It’s your mom,” he answers me shakily as I run behind him, trying to catch up with him physically and mentally on what is happening right now.
It’s your mom.Ice takes over my veins, threatening to freeze me in my tracks.
“Kiran,” I push past my lips as we reach his truck. Of course, I’m worried about my mom, but the fact she has my son right now has me almost incapable of forming a coherent thought, other than getting to them.
“What?” he asks, cranking up the ignition.
“Kiran is with her. Tell me what’s going on.”
Gunnar flies out of the parking lot. “She sent me an SOS text.” I’m trying to process his words when he asks, “Did she say if they were going anywhere?” He appears to be heading to her house.
“To my knowledge, they were staying there. She was watching Kiran while Em went to do some girlie shit with Jade and Willow after her class. Mom knew I was coming around this time to get him. SOS was all she sent?”
I reach into my pockets in search of my phone, and that’s when I realize I ran out of there in nothing but the shorts I had on. “Fuck, I don’t have my phone.”
Gunnar pulls his out. “Rex… Get to Isla’s, now. No cops…and drive the Tahoe. May need you to roll in quietly.” I can’t hear what is said on the other end, but I know how seamlessly he and Greyson’s dad function, so I’m not surprised there aren’t a lot of questions asked from his odd request.
We pull into my mom’s townhouse, and the sight of the old green pickup truck parked across the street sends a furious shiver through me, followed by overwhelming fear.
“If he’s touched either of them…I’ll kill him. I swear I’ll kill him and not think twice about it,” I say vehemently, and I mean it.
Gunnar eyes the truck as he pulls his pistol from the center console. As he checks the chamber, I’m jumping out of the truck before I can even think about it.My son… My mom. They’re all that matter right now.
I hear Gunnar calling my name, but I’m rushing through the front door before he can stop me.
A rage like nothing I’ve ever felt overtakes me at the scene I walk into. My mom sitting at her kitchen table, holding pressure on her bleeding nose with one hand and clutching my baby boy with her other. My piece of shit father sits across from them, twirling a phone on the table with a pistol beside his other hand.
Today is the day Jeffrey Monroe is going to die.
My son’s eyes find me as I enter the room. “Dada,” he cries, and I run to him, examining him from head to toe. “He’s okay, Lennox… He’s okay, honey. You take him, and y’all get out of here,” my mom says sternly.
The visceral voice I had hoped to never hear again interrupts us. “There’s my boy. Not who I was expecting, but glad you are here too. By the way, thanks for telling me I had a grandson.”
If my son wasn’t in this room, I would lunge for him without pause, and choke him with my bare hands but, instead, I take in a steadying breath and sneer. “What do you want?”
“I want my wife back.”Over my dead fucking body.
“So, you think breaking her nose and threatening her in front of my son is the way to make that happen.” Rage fills me to the point my vision blurs. My son’s safety is the only thing keeping me from attacking him.
“That was an accident after she confirmed my assumptions were true.”
I have no clue what he’s talking about, but there’s no way my mom’s injury was an accident. Just like none of the ones she tried to cover up when I was a little boy.
I notice his eyes fall behind me, and he speaks again. “There he is. The man I’ve been looking for.”
I turn toward Gunnar, confused about what this is all about. “How long have you been fucking my wife?” Jeff asks, and I blink several times at his accusation, as my mom’s eyes look past me, pleading with Gunnar. The concern in his expression that mixes with rage when he sees how badly she’s hurt solidifies that my father’s comment is most likely true.
Not sure how I missed this development, but that explains a lot.
“You’ve always had your eye on her, even when we were younger. She finally let you into that tight snatch.”
