At Peace (The 'Burg #2)(194)

He was keeping something from me, I knew it and I was going to let him. For whatever reason, he’d made the decision to make that play and I was going to let him have that too. We were in a relationship. I had to trust him and I did. If I needed to know, he’d tell me. Tim had been a badass macho man too and he’d had times where he clammed up about shit at work or shit he had to do, stuff that would make us worry. I knew when my man was erecting a shield around me and I knew he had to do what he had to do. If I fought that, it wouldn’t be pretty. No matter what it was, I had to let Joe do what he had to do and trust that he could protect me and my girls. And I did.

For my part, the conversation with Theresa, the picture of Joe and Nicky, I couldn’t sit on that and I couldn’t keep it from him.

For me, it had to be out in the open.

“Vi,” Joe called and I focused on him to see he was very focused on me and this time his fingers flexed into the flesh of my ass. “Jesus. What’d she give you?”

“Something to give to you.”

Joe closed his eyes and muttered, “Oh f**k.”

I lifted a hand from his shoulder to rest it against his cheek and guessed, “You know what it is, don’t you?”

He opened his eyes and started, “Vi –”

I dropped my head to rest my forehead against his. “I want him on the shelves,” I watched Joe close his eyes again and pressed on, “with Sam,” Joe’s hand clenched my ass as I finished on a whisper, “and Tim.”

Suddenly, he knifed up to sitting, taking me with him, both arms wrapped tight around me and I knew it was in order to set me aside so I held on.

“Joe –” I said to his profile, his head was turned away.

“Not ready for that, Vi.”

“Joe –”

He turned to me and repeated, “Baby, I said I’m not ready.”

If he wasn’t ready after seventeen years, it was time for him to be ready.

“He’s part of you, Joe, which means he’s part of this family. Let me bring Nicky home.”

I watched his face get hard and his hands moved to grasp my waist, definitely ready to set me aside but I clenched my thighs on his h*ps and held on harder with my arms.

“You said you’d help me with Sam and you are. And you said I could help you let what happened with Nicky go and you have to start letting me do that.”

His face stayed hard and his voice was tight when he said, “I’ve let it go.”

I risked moving my hands to his jaws and whispered, “Joe, you won’t even look at his picture.” Joe glared at me, his fingers gripping my waist hard and I risked more. “He was beautiful, honey.”

He closed his eyes again, pain slicing through his face and my fingers tensed at his jaws.

“Christ, Vi –” he started.

“And you’ve always been beautiful.”

His eyes opened and the pain was there too.

“Baby –” I whispered when I saw it.

Joe cut me off. “I got rid of ‘em.”

“What?” I asked.

“The photos, his clothes, his crib. Everything.”

I felt the sting of tears in my eyes when I asked, “Why?”

“Breadbox,” he answered and I blinked, feeling a tear slide down my cheek.

“What?”

“His casket. The size of a breadbox.”

At his words, what they conjured and knowing that memory was burned on his brain, the sob tore from my throat. I couldn’t stop it and it was so strong it seared a path of fire.

“Joe –”

“She’d been straight since before she got pregnant. The longest she’d gone. I thought we had it beat.”

“You don’t have to explain this to me.”

He went on like I didn’t speak. “The Bonnie she was, I’d never leave her with him, not with Dad that f**kin’ sick. I’d never even have a kid with her. But I didn’t think she was that Bonnie anymore.”

“Joe –”

“So I left her with him.”

“You didn’t have a choice, baby. You had to keep your family fed.”

“I thought we had it beat,” he murmured.

“Stop it, honey. You weren’t responsible for that.”

He pulled in breath, closed his eyes and kept them closed a long time before he opened them. Then his fingers wrapped around my wrist and he pulled my hand down to his chest so I could feel the strength of his heartbeat.

“He’s here, buddy, that’s all I could take, that’s all I need. I had to let go the rest. The rest is too much,” he told me.

I was a mother and I was a widow. I knew better than that.

“You need all you can get,” I whispered.

“Can’t take anymore,” he replied.

I pressed my hand into his chest. “That just isn’t true.”

“Vi –”

“Bring him home.”

“Violet –”

“Let me bring him home.”

“Buddy –”

I pulled my hand from his and put it back to his face. “He’s a part of you and I want you, all of you. I want my girls to have all of you. Joe, honey, please let me bring him home.”