Hitting the Wall

I am not one to pin all human shortcomings on half the species, but damn. Sometimes? Men. Holy hell.

You’ve been brave for her a lot, haven’t you?” He says it as if it’s dawning on him, as if he’s fitting a piece of the puzzle together. He’s not wrong. That’s what a good mother does. I’ve always known that life is a series of disasters waiting to happen. Mama was always desperate or barely hanging on or losing it. I don’t see why Mia has to think of things that way. I want her to pick herself up and dust herself off. Get mad instead of scared. I don’t want her to see me as pushed around. Powerless.

I feel sick. Ashamed. Still scared. He’s not gonna believe me. He’s gonna twist it until it lines up with the way he sees the world, and then this impossible thing between us will crack and shrivel and die. There’s something worse than sneaking away and never seeing him again. It’s cowering in this room, telling him the truth, watching him weigh up the value of people and their word, and living through the exact moment when he ranks me less than. It’s keeping my head up while he breaks my heart, and I’m already wrung out and so damn tired. I don’t know where to find the strength. But I will. I’ve picked myself up off the floor before. It’s cold comfort, but it’s enough. He’s turned his back on me before. I survived then. I’ll survive now.

He draws himself up, and I have to crane my neck to keep my eyes on his. He’s sober as a judge now. “I am going to show Mia how she should expect to be treated, so she has no doubt. And then I’m going to show you.” My face is flaming, and my insides are zooming around out of control, and I don’t know what to say. “Show me what?” “How a man treats his woman.

He swallows, his throat bobbing. “And just so you’ve got it straight, I don’t regret last night, and I don’t regret when we were together the first time.” My face grows impossibly hotter, and I tug at the hem of my dress. “I regret I didn’t do it right when we were together the first time, but I’d do it again.” He stops, and I think he’s done, but then he grins wickedly at me. “I have every intention of doing it again.

There was a time I assumed other people knew better than me. They don’t. And we might be poor, but we’re not cheap, and we’re not trash. And I’m sure as hell not stupid.

I decided a long time ago not to apologize for Mia’s meltdowns. She doesn’t hurt anyone, and apologizing for yourself when you haven’t done wrong is a great way to teach people to treat you like garbage. She’s not gonna learn that from me.

He’s gonna twist it until it lines up with the way he sees the world

He simply can’t fathom a world that doesn’t arrange itself for him so he’ll never understand

That’s a lot of what ifs

Come on. Let’s swim.” “I can’t.” “We’ll stay close to shore. I won’t let you go.” I’d believed him. I’d clung to him, trusting him not to let me go.

You care about me.” His breath warms my cheek. “We’re not talking about that. We’re talking about Mia.” “We’ll talk about Mia after.” “After what?” “After I’ve had a good, long minute to enjoy the fact that you’re jealous.” “That’s a messed-up thing to be happy about.” “It is, isn’t it?” He kisses the top of my head. I squirm. He lifts my chin, ducks down, kisses me. He tastes minty. My insides turn to mush.

I am going to show Mia how she should expect to be treated, so she has no doubt. And then I’m going to show you.” My face is flaming, and my insides are zooming around out of control, and I don’t know what to say. “Show me what?” “How a man treats his woman.

I left a girl—not a woman, a girl—my seed in her belly, alone by a river. I put a baby in her, and then the men who raised me chased her away.

Shay’s always a touch somber. Her smiles are small and quick, and she’s always watching. Waiting. Bracing for impact.

Stonecut’s great. If they let you in. If they don’t run you out. And he really believes his family is as upstanding as he is. Never mind the bribe to leave town. Never mind running me out when I was expecting. Those were misunderstandings. Honest mistakes. Not the predictable machinations of folks who think they’re better than you and will lie, cheat, or steal to stay on top.

He calls me stubborn, but I’m nothing to him. He has this way of seeing the world. I’d call it rose-colored glasses, but it’s not only what he sees, it’s what he believes despite what he sees.

This man figures I’m some sort of grifter. He can’t seem to get it straight in his head, though. Am I passing off another man’s child as Kellum’s? Or am I trying to shake his people down through a custody battle? And then there’s the ten thousand dollars, which seems to say they don’t care which it is, they just want the garbage to take itself out. The knot in my stomach sits there, gross and heavy as lead, while my breakfast churns. Eggs on a hot day. I knew it was a bad idea. I bet this comes down to the fact I belong to the help. I’m not a decent person like them. That’s how they all see me, isn’t it? I’m trash. Cheap slut. Liar, conniver, whatever. But above all, cheap. That’s how they see me, and that’s how they’ll see Mia. My heart sinks, but my brain keeps plugging along, impervious. Ten thousand dollars is a lot of money for cheap.

I go back to my car to start my day as if this is okay, as if it doesn’t feel like my heart has somehow wrenched itself loose from my chest, and I have no choice but to watch it walk away.

In a way, everything feels wrong. Home isn’t home. Family is not who I believed them to be. I’m not the man I thought I was.