Pieces of Us (Confessions of the Heart, #3)(59)

His daddy tossed him off like he was smacking at a gnat, and Mack’s butt hit the floor with a thud, his attack not even making a dent. His daddy only grinned.

Coldness crawled down Mack’s spine. A bucket of ice dumped down his back. He started to scramble back, shaking, though the words were coming free. “I hate you. Mama hates you. I want you to die. I’ll kill you myself.”

Laughter rolled from his daddy, pitch black. “That so, boy? Seems you need to be reminded of who you are. Of who you belong to. You actually think you’re somethin’? Somethin’ special? Those pig fuckers fillin’ your head with lies, too?”

His daddy snatched him off the floor by his shirt, and Mack kicked to get free, but his feet weren’t even touching the ground. “Get mad, boy. Show me that hate. That’s what I like to see. You are just like me.”



Mack was almost crawling along the lawn as he moved beneath the moon. His body screamed in agony, but he didn’t care. He had one place to be. Lights burned from the bottom-floor windows of the pretty white house, and he kept to the outskirts of the property, feeling like a dirty thief like his dad, but he didn’t care.

He needed to see her.

He got to the base of the tree, and he bit back the groans that wanted to rip up his throat as he began to climb. He got to her window.

Her light was on, and he could see her at her desk, talking to herself with a big o’ smile as she drew something in a notebook.

He smiled in return, his chest feeling light. Funny in a good way for the first time that day.

He tapped at the window, and she shrieked, her hands flying to her mouth before she was laughing and crawling to her window, setting it open wide. “Mack! What are you doin’, you crazy boy? It’s too late to play. I already brushed my teeth.”

“I just needed to see you.”

It was the truth.

He already felt better.

“Well, you better get in here.”

He wasn’t gonna argue. He slid through, glancing at the drawing she was making of a dragon and a bird. Somehow, it made his smile go sad. She flipped the notebook closed. “Whatcha wanna do?”

Cry.

Die.

Scream.

All of the above.

He flopped on the floor. “Just wanna lay here with you.”

She snuggled down next to him. “Want me to tell you a bedtime story?”

“Yeah.”

He jerked up to sitting when the door flew open. Mrs. Lane stood in the doorway, her hand on the knob and her eyes narrowed thin. Mack’s heart ran harder than it ever had. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be in that tree, let alone come in through her window.

“What in the world is goin’ on in here?”

Izzy grinned like they hadn’t been caught doin’ something bad. “I’m just tellin’ him a bedtime story so he can sleep better, Mama. He’s got bad dreams.”

Something flashed through Izzy’s mama’s eyes. Something soft and tender and sad. “You know he’s not supposed to come in through your window, Izzy Mae. We have a door.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Mack said, gulping, shaking, more scared than he was earlier that day. Last thing he wanted to do was make Izzy’s parents hate him. They were always so nice. Good to his mama. Good to him. And he was pretty sure they liked his daddy about as much as he liked them.

She sighed. “It’s okay. Just . . . use the door the next time, that’s what a real man does.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She sighed again. “Well, come on, you two, I just made one of those blueberry pies Maxon here seems to like so much. Guessed I sensed you comin’.”

His belly rumbled. He hadn’t had dinner, his mama in her room all day.

He climbed to his feet slowly while Izzy jumped to hers. “I already brushed my teeth, but I’ll do it again.”

Izzy flew out of her room and down the stairs. Her mama was in front of him, casting him glances as he slowly made his way down. His stomach was tight, his nerves scrambled, feeling like he wasn’t supposed to be there but wanting to stay forever.

They went into the kitchen, and Izzy’s daddy was at the table, reading something in the paper. He dropped it low, confusion at first, his eyes darting to his wife who sent him some kind of look that Mack couldn’t make out.

Only thing he knew was Izzy’s daddy smiled a soft smile. The kind his own dad had never worn. “Hello, son. You smell my wife’s pie from across the way?”

Mack couldn’t stop his smile. “I might’ve.”

“Get up here, get yourself a slice. Next time, though, use the door. Wouldn’t want to mistake you for an intruder.”

He should’ve apologized again, promised that he would, but he wasn’t sure if it was gonna be a lie. Instead, he sat down on the chair next to the man.

Izzy climbed into a chair on the other side of him, rambling about what they were gonna play tomorrow. Her mama dished them each a big helping, steam coming up, the scent hitting his nose.

Maybe he’d died after all, and he’d flown right into heaven.

Her mama ran her hand down his back. He tried not to flinch, but he couldn’t stop it, and he tried harder not to cry when she whispered at his ear, “You have a place here, always, Maxon. You remember that. You get scared or in a bad spot, you know where to come. You can always, always tell me or Izzy’s daddy anything. You hear?”