Frayed Silk(36)

Damn it. I shake my head. “No, he wasn’t. But you know it has nothing to do with you guys, right? He loves you both.”

He stares at me for a minute, his blue eyes studying and searching my face. Aware.

He finally nods. “When will things go back to the way they were?”

Tears blur my vision, and I roll my lips between my teeth, trying to keep them at bay. “I’m not really sure, buddy. But just know that we’re working on it, okay?”

He nods again and I stand, wrapping my arms around him and whispering into his hair, “If you need to talk, to me, Daddy, your grandmas … anyone, make sure you do. Okay?” I kiss his hair and step back. “Love you.” I smile softly at him.

He gives me a small one in return. “Love you, too.” He runs off to join Sophie who’s waiting for him at the gates.

My eyes stay glued to him until he disappears inside the school doors then I move back to the car to grab my sunglasses. I slip them on as Lola walks over and pats my back. “Hey, you okay?”

I give her a weak smile. “Not really.” I exhale a shuddering breath at the remorse in her eyes. “My fault, though, right?”

She frowns. “Yes and no. Hey, you told him. You’ve tried. He can’t keep shutting you out and expect you to just deal with it.”

She’s right. “What if it’s really over now?”

She looks away for a moment. “Trey said he was a wreck last night. Would hardly say a word to him, just kept staring down into his drink like he was waiting for it to talk to him or something.”

The sad part is that doesn’t really surprise me.

Lola sighs. “Look, I can’t promise you anything. But personally, I think now is the time to really try to sort through this with him while his emotions are running wild.”

She has a point. “Yeah, I guess.”

“What are you going to do about Jared?” she whispers.

I have no idea. I haven’t thought that far ahead yet, not with my emotions so entwined around everything going on with Leo.

“I need to talk to him, but I just don’t think I should yet.”

She smiles, but it’s full of pity. “Be careful.”

I nod. “Have you seen Fiona?” She hasn’t been at the school since last Friday’s bake sale.

Lola shakes her head. “No, but I’m kind of worried. She seemed a little …” She scratches at her cheek. “I don’t know. She doesn’t seem to be taking the separation well, though.”

“I might go over there today to check on her,” I say.

“I’d come, but I need to get a crapload of stuff done at home. Call me and let me know how she’s doing?”

“Sure. I’ll talk to you later.”

We say goodbye, and I make the short drive home, deciding that I’ll clean the kitchen up and put a load of laundry on before I go over to Fiona’s.

When I get out of the car, I stare at the holes in the wall and the paint, not knowing what to do about it. I guess there isn’t much to be done. I’ll have to call someone to come repair it. Tearing my eyes away, I walk inside and load the dishwasher, starting it before cleaning the kitchen. I head upstairs, collecting the dirty clothes from the hamper in the bathroom then walk down the hall to our room to check ours.

Putting the basket down, I walk over to our hamper and grab the few items in there then make my way back downstairs. I shove them all in the machine, but then I find Leo’s dress shirt he was wearing yesterday. It needs to be washed separately, so I put it on the ground. After I’ve put the liquid in and turned the machine on, I pick it up, laying it over the top of it so that I remember to wash it. I go to leave when I finally see it. Brown smudges on the cuff of his shirt. Frowning, I pick it up and rub my finger over it. It looks like blood. Like dried blood.

The tap running for ages in the bathroom last night.

My face drains of color as I realize what he might’ve done and race to my phone.

Dialing his number, I pace the kitchen, listening to it ring out before hitting redial and trying again. On my sixth walk through the kitchen, he finally answers, “Blondie.”

He sounds like he’s half asleep.

“Jared, shit. Are you okay?”

He laughs, the sound husky with sleep. “You mean did your husband and his friend find me last night?”

“So they did?” My eyes widen.

“Yeah, but look, it’s not a big deal. The other guy, he just watched while your husband got his hits in. Only intervened to pull him away when I’d had enough and started fighting back.” He yawns. “I’m fine, had worse.”

Shit. Holy shit.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, struggling with disbelief and my inability to keep up with all the dominos that keep falling.

“Dahlia?” he asks.

“I’m here. I’m so sorry. Fuck …”

“It’s fine. I deserved it, I guess. That’s the only reason I let him do it. Fair is fair, right?” He snickers.

“No, it’s not fair. He shouldn’t have touched you. How the hell did he find you anyway?”

“Probably the same way he found us. I was at the Westbrook bar, waiting for a buddy of mine when he found me, and we took it outside.”

“Why the hell are you so calm over this? My husband beat you up!” I almost yell before stopping myself.