“I’m sorry, man!” I scream out, punching the air, punching out the fury, the pain. “I’m fucking sorry.”
Phantom looks at the end of the bat, then at me. He lowers the bat so it’s clear he’s not going to hit me. Not yet, at least. Then he walks up to me and stabs a finger against my chest. “Get your fucking head right,” he snaps. “You packin’?”
I shake my head. I intentionally didn’t bring my guns.
“You lyin’?” he demands, narrowing his eyes at me.
“No,” I say quietly.
Phantom nods. “I’m not gonna stand here and play daddy. Go fucking fix your shit. And don’t come back until you’re right with it.”
He takes the bat and walks past me toward his bike, but as he passes me, he gives me another squeeze on the shoulder. “It’s time, motherfucker,” he says quietly. “Get right with yourself, for fuck’s sake. For our sake, for Claire’s sake.” He says the name that he knows is buried deep behind all my emotions. “For your own damn sake.”
He releases my shoulder, then winds up his arm, and tosses the baseball bat as far away as he can. I hear it tumble off into the scrub, consumed by the darkness that surrounds this shady location. Then he gets on his motorcycle and rides off.
I’m alone in the dark, my hands empty, my head so full it hurts.
I was made in violence.
I am violence.
It’s what I fear, understand, and know.
And I hate it.
I hate the man who made me what I am.
I hate the love that cost me everything.
I even hate myself.
When another car pulls into the lot, I get into my truck and rest my head on the steering wheel. I’ve got nothing. No place to go. No way to get this rage out of my body.
And then I feel my phone vibrate with a text.
14
CLAIRE
I rereadthe text I sent to Savage for the billionth time since I sent it.
Me: Val is gone. I’m so, so sorry. I would never do anything to hurt you. I didn’t know. Please come home.
I don’t know what parts of it will make him react, if any. But he hasn’t responded, and it’s been over an hour.
I’m terrified that he’s not okay.
After Savage stormed out of here, I invited Val to stay. She wanted me to eat, but I had no appetite, so I put the dinners in the fridge, and we talked on the couch. While Aurora played at our feet, she told me the very short version of their story.
Arthur Everett, Savage’s dad, was a brutal man. Violent when he wasn’t drinking and cruel when he was.
“He didn’t start out that way, of course,” Val said, smoothing her hair down. “They never do. We met young, when we were in high school, and over the years, he changed. Anger and failure do things to people, and not everyone knows how to deal with it.”
Val’s voice was steady as she spoke, and she laced her fingers together as she stared down at them.
“My son tried to protect me, and I…” She shook her head. “I tried to stop him from having to. I really did. But I failed him. I failed my family and my son.” She met my eyes. “He lost everything. His military career. His parents. There are no easy answers, and there is no one right thing to do in every situation. I believed that then, and I believe it now. I’m just sorry I didn’t know how to protect my son and keep him in my life. He’s never left my heart, though. And I have to wonder if I still have a place deep in his.”
She laughed quietly. “Savage. Is that a nickname?”