Page 39 of The Love We Deny
Maybe what I should be looking for is this. A good woman who laughs at my jokes even though I’m not funny. A woman I can build a life with. Maybe the rest of it will come later.
By the time I check my watch, it’s nearly eight. I’m surprised to feel a twinge of disappointment that the evening is ending.
“I have to get back,” I say, cutting her off mid-story about a client who hated their hair even though she gave them exactly what they wanted. She waves her hand like she completely understands, and I’m sure she does. I pay the bill and lead her out of the bar, her heels clicking loudly on the hardwood floor.
“I had a really nice time,” she says, stopping in front of my car.
There’s a question on her face, wondering if I’m going to kiss her, but I’m not sure I’m ready for that. So I put my hands in my pockets, taking a step back. “We should do it again sometime.”
“I’d like that,” she says, matching my retreat with a wave. “Text me.”
For the first time in weeks, I feel okay with things. I had a nice time, and I’m going to text her. I barely thought about Will.
Everything is back on track, and whatever those strange feelings were, it doesn’t matter now.
They’re gone.
The house is dark when I get home. No TV or toys, playing music. Dark.Empty.
“Ollie?” I shout,something’s wrongblaring over and over in my head before I’ve even looked. “Will?”
No one answers.
I check the kitchen and the living room. I take the stairs two at a time to find Ollie’s bedroom light off and the room empty. I pull my phone out of my pocket on the way back downstairs, dialing Will’s number. It rings and rings, and it goes to voicemail.
I hang up and call again.
“I’m sorry, but the person you have called is unavailable.”
I’m freaking out at this point, my heart pounding and my breathing out of control, my skin prickling with fear because my son isn’t here and I let Will watch him. I let a man who spent the last seven years in prison watch my six year old son and—
“Where are you?” I say into the phone, my hands trembling at my ear. “Call me backright now.”
I don’t wait for him to call me back. I’m in the car, reversing out of the driveway before I even know where I’m going. But I can’t do nothing. I have to look for them. Maybe they’re at Joyce and Frank’s. Or maybe—
Will loves the kids. He’s never given me any reason to believe he would hurt him, to justify what I’m feeling, this panic clawing at my lungs until I can’t breathe.
Except that I don’t actually know him.
He’s been back a few weeks. I don’t know what he’s been through. I don’t know what he’s capable of, and I left my child with him to go on a date I didn’t even want to go on and—
There they are.
Two figures, one man, one kid’s little legs pumping up and down on the swing, coming into view in the dim daylight as I turn into the small parking lot of the neighborhood playground.
Will is off to the side, watching him while Ollie pushes higher and higher, and relief hits me so hard I feel like I’ve been knocked on my ass.
That lasts all of five seconds before it’s replaced with blind rage.
Will hears me coming, turning at the sound of my footsteps, the smile on his face falling when he sees the expression on mine. “Hey, man,” he starts.
“What the hell,” I say, cutting him off, and I’ve never shouted at anyone. It’s not in my nature. Exceptright now, it is. “I told you to stay at the house!”
Will’s eyes move to Ollie, who’s still swinging in his own little world. “He wanted to go to the park. I figured—”
“I told you to stay at the house,” I repeat, stopping in front of him, my hands balled into fists.
“Dude, what’s your problem?” he asks, his voice taking on an edge to match mine. “He’s been cooped up in the house all day, and he wanted to swing. It’s two minutes away—”
