Pieces of Us (Confessions of the Heart, #3)(67)

Maxon: How’s work? My day is long, counting the minutes and not knowing when I get to see you again.





Maxon: What time is Benjamin’s appointment? Tell him that I’m thinking about him.





I wavered, not sure I should respond, knowing there was no chance I could keep from it. Not when he was wearing me down.

Minute by minute.

Word by word.

Fingers poised on my phone, I peeked around the office, as if I were gettin’ ready to commit the most shameful of acts.

Me: I’m getting ready to leave in a few minutes. He has to be there at 3:30.





Scandalous, I knew.

Maxon: You have to leave work early?





Me: Yes. Mondays and Thursdays. I’ve already worked it out with the office manager.





Maxon: Or I could always take him one of the days? I want to be here for him, Izzy. For you. You don’t have to do this alone, anymore.





God, this man. Did he have the first clue what he was doing to me?

I left work, and my mama was outside with Benjamin so I could take him the rest of the way into Charleston.

My son was both agitated and excited. He was quiet the whole way, and I had to stand outside the facility with him for ten minutes, whispering words of encouragement before they finally seeped in deep enough and he was ready.

“You are brave,” I whispered to him, holding his hand as we stepped inside to the welcome of the doctors and therapists. The whole thing was really an introduction to what was going to be happening, almost a celebration of sorts for the twenty patients who would be a part of the study so they would be familiar and comfortable with their surroundings.

The children played in the therapy gym without any instruction, and I watched from the sidelines, his smile wide and his laughter free.

By the time that we left, my heart was soaring with hope.

I was pretty sure Benjamin’s was, too, with the way I kept catching his crooked smile through the rearview mirror as we drove back to the house.

Dillon came flying out the door, asking his brother a million questions.

My mama, the sweet caretaker that she was, had dinner ready for us to eat.

I knew so easily this could become our routine.

But it was what was pushing at the boundaries that made it all so difficult. The reminder that nothing was settled. An upheaval that I didn’t know whether to welcome or shun.

Maxon: How was Benjamin’s appointment?





The only thing I knew was that my pulse took off with a roar when that one came in two hours later while I was in my bedroom. And I realized I was excited to share this news with him.

Me: It was wonderful. The doctors and therapists are so welcoming. It’s going to be a good thing. I can feel it. Benjamin left with a smile on his face. That’s all that mattered.





Maxon: Can I see it?





Me: ???





Maxon: His face. Your face. Dillon’s face.





Two seconds later, my phone was ringing with a video call, Maxon’s name coming up on the screen.

Nerves raced, and I looked around my room as if I were looking for a place to hide before I finally told myself to suck it up, pull up my big girl panties (and keep them there) and answer the stupid phone.

“Hey,” I said, though it was wispy when his gorgeous face came on the screen.

God, why did the man have to be so appealin’?

“Hey, gorgeous.”

Redness flushed. “Maxon.”

It was a reprimand.

Caution.

His smile was nothing but a smirk. “Just telling the truth. Figured you didn’t want any lies.”

“Maxon,” I said again, and he just chuckled.

“Let me talk to Benjamin.”

Chewing on my bottom lip, I pushed down the agitation and moved out of my room and into the one next to it where the boys were putting on their pajamas. “Hey, Maxon wants to say hi.”

“Mr. Mack!” Dillon shouted. He hurtled across the room like his pants were on fire. He jumped up to get into the camera. “Hey! What are you doin’? Are you coming over? Did you work today? Did you know my Nana made lasagna for dinner? It was so good. Do you like lasagna?”

Maxon laughed at Dillon’s erratic train of thought. “Doesn’t everyone love lasagna?”

“Not crazy people,” Dillon said, far too serious.

“Guess I’m out of the woods then because I love lasagna,” Maxon replied, rubbing at that jaw that was sending my mind into a tailspin.

A nosedive right into ideas of reckless things.

“Are you comin’ over?” Dillon pushed.

“Not tonight, Lil’ Dill, but really soon.”

“Did my mom say so?”

“Not yet, but I’m working on her.” He was lookin’ at me with that smirk when he said it, something about him so arrogant tonight, his expression promising he was working on more things than a simple visit to see the boys.

“Hard work pays off,” Dillon said.

Awesome.

All the character I’d been trying to instill in my boys was coming back to bite me in the butt.