Chapter 10
“Daddy.”
Trent heard a little voice from very far away. Then he felt something sharp poke him in the chest, right over the scar on his heart. He frowned and tried to ignore it.
“Daddy!”
He blinked and opened his eyes. Emma stood near his shoulder, her little face bunched up in the shadows, her bottom lip quivering. “Daddy, I peed.”
He frowned. If there was a significance to this, he was missing it. “Okay, so wash your hands and go back to bed.”
“I can’t, Daddy. I peed in my bed.” Her voice broke. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”
He sat up, reaching for his glasses. “You peed the bed?” he asked.
“Yeah, Daddy.” She sounded so sad.
“Okay, so what does Mommy usually do when this happens?” he asked.
“You have to change the sheets. And I have to take a bath.”
He glanced at his watch. Just what he wanted to do at four thirty in the morning: bathe a
child.
But okay, he could do this.
It dawned on him that if Emma was coming to get him, Laura must not be home. He wanted to know if she was okay but decided not to bother her at work. He could do something simple like this, right?
“Okay, honey, let’s get you in the tub while I take care of the bed. Deal?”
She looked up at him, her eyes wide. “Deal.”
She padded toward the bathroom and Trent made a mental note to check on her in a few minutes. She was big enough to wash herself up but he didn’t want her unsupervised for long in the bathroom by herself.
He walked into her bedroom, hit immediately by the strong scent of pee. Holding his breath, he stripped off the sheets, balling them up and carrying them directly to the laundry room and dumping them on the floor next to the washer. He managed to find clean sheets, then went back into Emma’s bedroom to discover that his wife was a genius. There was a thin sheet of plastic on top of the mattress. It looked like a shower curtain liner but whatever it was, it had saved the mattress that night.
He sprayed it down with bleach cleaner then let it air dry before he went to check on Emma.
She was standing in the middle of the tub, both the shower and the bath water running. Soap coursed down her back and over her cute little butt as she attempted to wash her own hair.
“Want some help?” he asked.
She’d scrunched up her eyes to keep from getting soap in them so all she did was nod vigorously. He eased her backward under the shower water and rinsed the soap from her hair then pulled her out of the tub. He wrapped her little body in a massive light blue fuzzy towel then wiped her face gently. She beamed up at him. “Thanks, Daddy.”
In that moment, he knew how a superhero felt. He brushed the towel over the tip of her nose then urged her toward her bedroom. “Get some clothes on.”
It might be a small victory, something Laura might do on any random night, but hey, it was still a victory. Child bathed? Check. Back to bed?
Yeah, not so much. Because Ethan woke up just as he was tucking Emma back to bed and that’s when all hell broke loose.
Two hours later, Trent’s patience snapped at the end of its leash.
“Mommy doesn’t let us have cereal on school days.”
Trent looked down at his daughter, the tiny reflection of his wife down to the disapproving glint in her dark eyes, and counted to ten. Then twenty, while grinding his teeth and trying to keep his emotions from spiraling out of control.
But nothing eased the tension in his chest.
He slapped the cereal box on the counter hard enough that a spray of Kix burst out of the top. He gripped the edge of the counter and tried to keep his voice neutral. “Mommy isn’t here, honey. It’s okay to have cereal.”
Ethan’s eyes got wide and he covered his mouth. Trent wasn’t sure if his son was laughing at him or upset that he’d spilled the cereal.
Trent wasn’t actually sure he cared either way.
Fresh panic gripped his lungs, tearing at his insides, keeping him from taking a proper breath.
Keeping him from thinking clearly. His thoughts raced as he tried to figure out how to get them dressed and ready to go without having the slightest idea what ready actually looked like.
He could handle things blowing up around him. He could handle soldiers completely losing their shit.
But he apparently could not handle two small children.
“Ethan! I thought I asked you to get dressed.”
His son lifted his chin and stomped his foot. “I want to wear my Spiderman t-shirt.”
“I don’t know where it is. You’ll wear the green frog t-shirt that Mommy laid out for you.”
“I don’t wanna!”
Trent’s temper snapped its lead. He slammed his palm down on the countertop, hard enough that the shock reverberated up his arm and into his shoulder. “Ethan!”
But that was nothing compared to the shock on his children’s faces.
* * *
It was past seven a.m. and Laura had been up all night. She was dead on her feet and she had never seen a casualty notification go more wrong. The soldier who had died had been living with a girlfriend and trying to get divorced from his wife. The girlfriend was listed on the official paperwork but the platoon sergeant had contact information for the wife. They’d tried to figure out who to contact and what to do and then the parents got into the mix around midnight.
She felt terrible for all of them but at about two a.m., she’d gotten pissed at the company commander for not having his paperwork together and screwing this up in an epic and unforgettable way.
She opened the front door in time to hear Trent shout from somewhere near Ethan’s bedroom. It was already seven o’clock and the kids were well on their way to being late for school.
She rushed into the kitchen, expecting to see the kids finishing their breakfast. Instead, Emma was crawling on the countertop, reaching for a cup in the cabinet and Ethan streaked through the living room like he’d just injected a gallon of fruit punch.
She heard Trent shouting for Ethan from the bedroom.
Then everything exploded in slow motion.
The door to the bedroom slammed violently against the wall. Ethan’s red backpack flew across the living room, knocking a picture of Laura and Trent from its nail. Glass shattered across the living room floor.
Ethan dove to the fireplace, picking up the pieces of a now broken dinosaur. Tears ran down his face as he held the shattered remains of his favorite dinosaur from his backpack. His cry rose through the entire house, a slow wail.
Silence crashed over the house. Laura’s heart slammed against her ribs. Emma crouched on the counter, her hands over her ears.
Trent stormed into the living room. “Ethan!”
She stepped in front of Trent, pulling his attention away from their crying son. Hands up, fear clutched at her throat. “Whoa! That is enough!”
But she’d be damned if whatever started this was going to continue.
Her husband stood in front of her, his fists bunched at his sides, his chest heaving. His eyes were dark and filled with a thousand angry emotions. Behind her, Ethan’s wails dragged down her frayed nerves. “Ethan. Go to your room. Now.”
“But, Mommy—”
“Now, Ethan.” She didn’t raise her voice, didn’t take her eyes off her husband. Ethan threw the ruined dinosaur on the floor and stormed out of the living room, his bedroom door slamming behind him like a gunshot.
Laura took a deep, shaking breath, her mind racing over how to calm everything down. “Trent,” she whispered. Took a tentative step toward him. Placed her hands on his chest and forced him to meet her gaze. He opened his mouth. Snapped it closed. And then a deep shame filled his eyes as the anger rolled back beneath an onslaught of remorse.
He took a single step backward. And disappeared into their bedroom.
She sucked in a trembling breath and looked into the kitchen, where Emma sat at the table now, focused intently on her cereal. Torn between her husband and her son, Laura turned toward Ethan’s bedroom.
He was face down on the bed. She pushed the door open a little farther and moved to sit on his bed. She stroked his back gently and felt his little body shake beneath her touch. “I want Daddy to leave,” he said into the pillow.
“Don’t say that, honey.”
“Why not? It’s true.”
“No it’s not. You’re just mad because he threw your backpack.”
“Parents aren’t supposed to yell,” he said, rolling over and sitting up. He crossed his arms angrily over his chest with a huff, a sulk furrowing in his brow.
Laura brushed his hair out of his face, glad to see the anger retreating from his eyes. “Since when?”
He shot her a wry look that looked so much like Trent. Then his expression fell and his bottom lip quivered. “Mommy, he scared me,” he whispered.
Laura pulled him into her arms and felt his tears, hot and wet on her blouse. Frustrated tears fell down her cheeks but she didn’t care. She simply held on to her son and wished she knew how to hold on to his father. She held him until his little body stopped shaking. But he didn’t pull away. He just needed to hold on for a little bit. She knew the feeling.
Too bad there was no one there to hold her right then. She was ragged and raw from the all-nighter and now as the adrenaline washed away, it took with it the strength that was keeping her upright.
So Laura sat there and held him. Because that’s what mommies did when the world went to shit around them. Guilt clawed at her. She never should have left him with the kids. Not so soon. Not when he was still unfamiliar with the things that they did to work her nerves and push her buttons. She knew how to navigate around them. He didn’t. She’d known leaving Trent with the kids was a bad idea. They weren’t bad kids but they were kids, which by definition meant a lot to handle.
And as much as it pained her to realize it, they were a handful he had not been prepared to handle.
But Ethan didn’t need to hear any of that. She smoothed his hair down as he leaned back, his eyes already clearing up. “I’m sorry I made Daddy yell, Mommy,” he said in a small voice.
Laura kissed the top of his head, then smoothed his hair out of his face once more. “Tell you what, kiddo. Finish getting dressed and go eat your breakfast with your sister. I’m going to go check on Daddy.”
“Is he okay?” In that instant, her son was no longer angry with his father. Concern filled his voice, making him sound older than he was.
She wished she knew. She brushed her palm over his damp cheek, wishing she had more reassurances. But the look she’d seen on his face had terrified her. She honestly didn’t know the answer to her son’s question. But he didn’t need to know that. “I’m going to go find out, okay? Go eat?”
* * *
She found Trent in their closet. Leaning against the wall, his glasses thrown on the floor, he’d drawn his knees up to his chest and sat with his head bent onto his folded arms. Her heart broke for him all over again.
She could leave him there. She could rail at him for yelling at their kids. For not being there and then acting like some stereotype out of a bad movie.
But she wasn’t going to do either of those things. In the last few days, she’d seen more vulnerability in this man than she’d ever realized existed. He’d been running from their family, from her for so long he honestly didn’t know how to be there anymore.
He wanted to be. No matter what she’d thought before—that he was home because of the court-martial, that he would leave again as soon as he got the chance—the fact was, she was no longer certain. He was hurting. Badly.
So she did the only thing she could.
Fear, not unlike the fear of approaching a wild animal, slithered through her veins but she forced it down. Forced herself to face the wicked realization that her husband had completely lost his shit and terrified the living hell out of her children and her, as well.
She never thought she’d fear this man but for one brief moment, she had.
But she loved him more and she couldn’t leave him. Not like this, shattered and broken on their closet floor.
It took everything she had to kneel next to him, careful to move his glasses. His breathing, ragged and harsh, was the only sound over the beating of her heart. She bumped into the pile of uniforms on the floor near his hip. One of the orange bottles poked out from beneath a sleeve.
She took a deep breath and swallowed. Then she reached for him.
“Hey?” She slid her palm over his forearm. Felt the crisp hair on his arm against her skin. Felt the heat. The strength. The power that had terrified their son.
Here was a man who’d given the Army everything, and the fear in a child’s eyes had reduced him to this. It was a hard thing she did, simply sitting there with him. There was no excuse for violence; she knew that. But even as his temper had snapped, he hadn’t hurt the kids. A little plastic dinosaur hadn’t been so lucky. But she could fix that.
She didn’t know how to reach him through the tangled guilt and shame radiating off him in palpable waves.
She couldn’t leave him there. Not like this. He’d never let her in, never lowered his guard enough to let her fix whatever was eating at him. Maybe, she could see him through this.
Maybe.
He tensed beneath her touch, pulling away to rub his hands over his face, leaving them there. She didn’t miss the taint of moisture beneath his eyes. Her heart ached for the pain she saw there. She slid closer, until she could lean against his bent knees. She rested her chin on one, pressing against him.
“Did I ever tell you about the time I broke the window in the kitchen?” she said, breaking the silence the only way she knew how. She shifted again, sitting so that her shoulder rested against his knee. The contact bolstered her flagging courage. “Ethan had just exploded out of his diaper and used it as paint in the hall.” The memory raced back, bringing with it the long forgotten anger and frustration. “I’d been up all night with Emma.” She released a hard breath. “I just lost it. Something snapped and I threw the entire diaper pail.”
He lowered his hands, banging his head back against the wall. She flinched, knowing that had been hard enough for him to see stars.
“Did you see his face, Laura?” His voice was scratchy and raw. “He was terrified of me.” She slid her hand up to rest on his knees. He opened his eyes. “I fucking terrified my son.”
“Trent, we all have bad days.” She squeezed, waiting until he met her gaze, needing him to hear her. “All parents lose their shit sometimes. It’s part of raising kids.”
He looked away, disgust carved into his face. “I should be better than that.”
She scoffed quietly, then reached for him, brushing her fingers over the stubble on his cheek. “Says who? Who says you’re supposed to be a perfect father? Trent, none of us is perfect.”
He opened his eyes then and she was stunned by the depth of the recrimination and bleak guilt she saw looking back at her. She shifted up to her knees, leaning forward and cupping his face in her hands. His skin was cold, clammy. His nostrils flared slightly at her touch, his body tense.
“I need you to hear me on this.” She lifted his chin until his eyes met hers. “You didn’t hurt him.”
His throat tensed as he swallowed. “I broke a dinosaur.” A ragged guilt for something far worse than breaking a child’s toy.
“That we can replace for three ninety-nine at Target,” she said. “He’s fine.” She stroked one thumb over his cheek, finding it damp. “Trent, you didn’t hurt him.”
He didn’t look away from her but she saw the doubt, the shame fill his eyes. “All I could think about was getting him to stop yelling and listen,” he whispered.
“I know. Believe me, I know.” She gentled her fingers, keeping the contact, afraid to let him go lest he shatter there in her arms.
He lifted one hand, covered hers where she held him. “I’m sorry.” He pressed his lips together, his throat moving as he swallowed. “I’m so goddamned sorry. I’m a mess. I should be better than this.”
She smiled gently. “Yes, you are a mess.” His cheeks were stiff with stubble beneath her touch. “But you’re home for the first time in a long time. Rough spots are normal.” She swiped both thumbs over his cheeks before she let him go. His hand lingered over hers for a moment too long.
“How can you forgive me so easily?”
“Because I’ve been there, too.” Her fingers were hot beneath his touch. “But I know when they’re getting to be too much. I can walk away before I let my temper get the best of me. You have to learn those things,” she said quietly.
“What if I can’t?”
“You can.” She leaned down and brushed her lips with his.
He closed his eyes, shifting until he could rest his forehead against hers. “I’m afraid. I’m afraid of how I feel around the kids.”
“You’ve been gone a long time. You have to give yourself time to adjust,” she said.
“You’re not worried?”
What could she say to that? She had been. She was. But there was something between them now that was more powerful than worry. “I am.” A slide of her fingers over his cheek, a soothing caress. “But I have faith in you.” Faith she’d lost but faith she’d started to find again. One piece at a time, but it was more than it had been.
And it was enough to keep her there with him as the time ticked past and the kids were late to school. Until the fear and loathing in his eyes faded. Until he looked at her and she saw the man she was coming to know. Not the man she’d married. Someone different.
But someone that she could no longer walk away from.
She slid her hand from his and retrieved his glasses, handing them to him before she stood and offered her outstretched hand. He looked up at her from where he still sat. A thousand emotions flickered across his face. Fear. Uncertainty. Guilt.
But he slipped his hand in hers and pushed to his feet. They stood there for another moment, until he reached for her, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her oh so gently on the mouth. It was meant as an apology, nothing more, but it twisted into something else. Something filled with passion and need and a thousand unsaid things.
It was Laura who eased back this time. “I have to get the kids to school,” she whispered. He rubbed his thumb gently over her bottom lip. “I’d like to apologize to him first.”
She smiled up at him, her heart swelling in her chest. Knowing it was stupid and savoring the feeling anyway. “I think that’s a good idea.”
A spark of understanding passed between them, a hint of common ground. She squeezed his fingers then let him go, knowing he was no longer at risk of breaking in her arms.
For now.
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