At Peace (The 'Burg #2)(90)

“Nicky?”

“Their son. Would have been good, except ole Joe bein’ at home sick, Cal workin’ his ass off for Bonnie and Nicky and because his Dad’s insurance was shit. Joe was dyin’ in that house with Bonnie in it and the kid. Bonnie fell off the wagon, Cal’d drag her back on, she’d fall off again, Cal dragged her back on. It was relentless but he never gave up.”

“He did, they’re divorced,” I stated, though divorced or not, Joe never mentioned a child, his son and fear had hold of my soul that she had him, that wreck of a woman was raising Joe’s boy.

“Yeah,” Mike clipped. “He got shot of her. He got shot of her when he came home and found the cops all over his house. She was out of it, took the Dad’s drugs, don’t even know what he was on, pain killers probably, got smashed, for some reason decided to give her baby a bath and then she forgot he was in the tub –”

Pain shot through me, agonizing pain, infiltrating every cell in my body. I knew where this was going and I couldn’t stop it before I cried, “Don’t!”

Mike’s arm was around me and it got tight as his voice got quiet.

“Yeah, sweetheart, Nicky drowned in the bathtub. Ole Joe found him, saw the state of Bonnie, called the police but it was such a bad scene, he was so far gone health-wise, he had a heart attack. He was dead before the cops got to the house. Cal showed up, his kid dead, his Dad dead and his wife arrested for involuntary manslaughter.”

I was shaking my head but Mike kept talking.

“Colt got the callout. He was the first on the scene.”

“Please, Mike,” I whispered, turning away, setting my glass on the coffee table and Mike leaned into me, setting his glass beside mine and his arms pulled me to him again.

His arms were strong, this was a better position of safety and togetherness but after hearing that about Joe, Bonnie, his son, his Dad, it totally didn’t register on me. I was trembling in a way it felt like I’d never be able to stop.

“It was f**ked up. Totally,” Mike’s voice was almost a whisper. “She did time, not much, criminally negligent. Cal divorced her while she was inside. I thought it was over, least for him. I had no idea she ever came back, I can’t imagine why the f**k she would. Her comin’ back, askin’ for money, that’s not only f**ked up, it’s plain cruel. His Dad was dyin’ but not dead, she essentially killed him. Her kid, shit. Her kid. Cal’s boy. Totally f**ked.”

I stared at him and whispered the God’s honest truth, “Women don’t love that shit, Mike.”

He gave me another squeeze of his arms and replied, “No, sweetheart, that wasn’t what I meant. They love the broken man, the heart that bleeds, think they can fix it.”

“I had no idea.”

“Now you do, you wanna fix it?”

My eyes slid over Mike’s shoulder and I looked out his window.

That nightmare had obviously happened seventeen years ago. I hated it that Joe experienced that, it felt like acid in my veins, I hated it so much.

But I knew, the way Joe was, the way he looked, the way he acted, there were likely a lot of women before me who knew all about it and tried to fix him.

Joe just couldn’t be fixed.

A one-woman man, like his Dad, Mike said. Did everything for her. Kept her safe, tried to keep her straight and was good enough to put her in a taxi instead of slam the door in her face when she’d killed his baby and essentially killed his father.

A one-woman man, he’d just picked the wrong woman, the really wrong one.

Joe was never going to be fixed, he didn’t want to be and therefore, he never would.

“Violet,” Mike called and I looked at him.

“No,” I replied, “I don’t want to fix Joe.”

That was a lie, I did, I really wanted to, I wanted to so badly I could taste it in my mouth, feel it hollowing out my belly, like that hunger I had for him.

I just knew I couldn’t.

Mike’s hand came to my face, his fingers curving around my jaw, his thumb at my cheek, using it to bring it close so his mouth could touch mine then he gently pushed me away an inch but his hand didn’t leave my face.

“Thinkin’ I killed the mood,” he muttered.

I gave him a weak smile and agreed, “Yeah.”

“Not a bad thing, sweetheart, ‘cause I’m also thinkin’ you need time.”

My weak smile died and I agreed again, “Yeah.”

“You want me around while you take that time?”

I closed my eyes and dropped my forehead to his shoulder.

Then selfishly and stupidly, I whispered, “Yeah, Mike, I do, if you wanna be around.”

I felt his body relax against mine and he murmured, “Good, ‘cause I wanna be around.”

I lifted my head, needing the mood to shift again, not back to before but to something normal, sane, that didn’t include drowned babies or Joe’s broken heart.

Therefore I asked, “You mind if we watch a movie?”

“I’ll only mind if you don’t cuddle up to me while we’re doin’ it.”

My smile was less weak when I said, “I think I can do that.”

“Then go pick what you wanna watch.”

I kept smiling at him and started to pull away then went back to him.