38. Dana

Chapter 38

Dana

T he sound of a toddler screaming was almost normal to me now. But multiple? No. That cut through like a knife to butter.

I stood on the threshold of the sliding glass door that led out to my new backyard. We'd nearly finished settling in with the help of Hunter and Lottie. Unpacking with a two-year-old was a nightmare on its own, and I'd nearly wept when they'd shown up two weeks ago with a crew of men and a distraction for Drew—their son, Brody.

Streamers and birthday hats littered the ground as the two of them ran circles around each other. The rest of his friends had gone home, but of course, Lottie and Hunter stayed to help with every aspect of the cleanup. They'd spoiled my son rotten already. They didn't need to pick up after him too.

Mom, Dad, and Vee stayed as well, but they were significantly less helpful.

But even with all of those people that I held close to my heart around me, I couldn't help but still feel alone. There was no one there to wrap an arm around my shoulder. There was no one there to kiss me and celebrate the milestone of my son in the same way as me. No one that was feeling the same level of pride, even if they all tried.

There was a crater-shaped hole in my life, and although most of the time I was able to ignore the ache of it until the early hours of the morning, it was harder today.

"Brody!" I snapped, and the boy spun on his heel in the grass with a metal trowel in his hand. "Drop it!" He stared at me for a moment, his blue eyes sparkling in the waning sunlight.

And then he went right back to chasing Drew with it.

Lottie stepped across the lawn, her footsteps nearly reverberating through the ground before she snatched it from her son's hand. "Fucking two-year-olds," she grumbled, storming up the steps of the porch before depositing the trowel in the plastic box. "I love him, but he can be a handful."

I snorted as she wrapped her arms around me, leaning on me for support. "I'm tired," I grunted, doing my best to hold her up but close to failing. I was seconds from collapsing when she let go.

"How are you holding up?"

I narrowed my gaze at her. "I'm fine. My parents are here and we haven't argued—yet. Drew got a shit ton of gifts that will need to be opened with a box cutter, so that's fun. And he's probably going to crash in, I don't know, about an hour? So his sleep schedule is going to be in the gutter."

"You know that's not what I meant," she sighed, slotting an arm around me as she turned so we could watch them. Somehow they'd managed to find a rope, and decided tug-of-war was an original invention.

I let my mom handle that one.

"You know how I'm holding up," I muttered, steeling my jaw. "It's just a bit harder today than it usually is."

The doorbell sounded and I watched as Lottie looked inside as if fate was answering my call. But I knew better than that—it wasn't him.

I'd gotten a text about twenty minutes ago that a package was two stops away.

"I got it," I grumbled, stepping over the baby gate and making my way to the door.

A man stood there in all blue, a USPS logo across his chest, with a clipboard jutting into my personal space. Behind him, two women offloaded an oversized package, the memory of Cole dropping off a similar-looking package almost one year ago today flashing in my mind as I signed my name. That package had been a gigantic stuffed bear that Drew had lost his mind over. This, from the looks of it, was some kind of rideable monster truck.

"Sorry, ma'am, I need a signature from Drew Beechings," the man said, staring at my penmanship as if I were insane.

"He's two," I snapped. "So unless you have a crayon and some free time to teach him to write, mine, his mother's, should be good enough."

He let the conversation drop as the two women deposited the box in my living room. I waited until the three of them left before checking the note on the side of the package, my stomach dropping. I already knew who it would be from. I didn't need the reminder, not today. But I owed it to him.

I dropped to my knees and turned the small piece of cardstock paper in my hand.

Dana,

Thank you. You've done more for me, for our son, than words on a card could ever hope to describe. You're an incredible mother and I cannot even begin to try to articulate how much I appreciate the work you put into raising Drew every single day. You deserve nothing but the best, always and forever.

I hope that one day I can prove my worth to both of you.

Cole

P.S. Please stop with the check mailing game. You won't win.

The knot in the back of my throat quickly grew about ten sizes.

I choked out a sob as the tears hit me, dripping onto the little card and smudging the ink. Without thinking, I wiped it on my jeans, smearing the ink more, and fuck, that only made it worse.

"Mama!"

Drew's body slammed into the box as he took in the picture on the side of it. I covered my mouth, scooting back toward the wall, trying to keep my emotions from him. I didn't want him to see me like this, not when it felt like my fucking chest was caving in.

"Mama?" he said again, his head tilting to one side as he tugged on the zip ties wrapped around the box.

He didn't miss it this time.

A shaking, heaving sob shook my body, and within seconds, Drew was scooped up. I blinked past the tears, forcing my vision to clear, and watched as Lottie hurriedly dropped Drew off on the other side of the baby gate before calling for my mom to watch him.

He didn't miss it this time.

"Dana," Lottie said, her knees hitting the floor beside me as she placed her hands on my shoulders. "What's wrong?"

I pushed the card into her chest, hoping I hadn't ruined it too badly, and watched as she read through the smudging.

Two years. Drew was two years old, and Cole had only been in his life for three months of it.

What the fuck had I done?

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Lottie breathed. Her fingers wiped away the tears blackened from my mascara, but it was only getting worse.

Every misstep, every stupid decision I had made, laid itself out in front of me like a goddamn art gallery. I should have reconciled with my parents sooner, maybe then I wouldn't have been so hard on Cole. I shouldn't have left him to fend for himself the way I did when he relapsed. I shouldn't have pushed him away a year ago when he'd shown up at my door with a gift for Drew. The shame he must have felt when I still wouldn't let him see his son. Was that why he'd had it delivered today instead?

"I fucked up," I sobbed as Lottie wrapped her arms around me, tugging me into her chest. "I fucked it all up."

"You haven't," she whispered.

"I've kept him from Drew for a year and a half." The words came out broken, as mangled as my heart felt. If I could forgive my mother and let her back into my life, let her be around Drew, what the hell was stopping me all of these months? "I made a mistake. I made a fucking mistake, Lottie, and I can't change it. I can't take it back. I can't give him that time back."

"He needed that time," Lottie offered, but I knew she was only saying that to make me feel better. He didn't need that time. I could have helped him through any relapses he had in the last year, but I chose not to.

"No, he didn't," I shot back. I pressed the base of my palms into my eyes, smearing my makeup but needing a tiny amount of relief from the pressure building there. "I fucking abandoned him just like his parents did. I probably made him feel like a monster . I fucking loved him, Lottie. I loved him. I love him still."

Every breath I took was shaky. Every word I spoke felt like a dagger to my chest.

"I love him, Lottie, and I've ruined any semblance of an actual family with him." The part of me that wanted him gone was dead, buried deep beneath the ground in an iron cage she stood no chance of escaping from. All I was left with were the broken parts that had never wanted to leave him to begin with, and goddamn, it hurt.

"Listen to me," she said, pulling herself back to position herself in front of my face. "You haven't ruined anything."

"I have."

"You haven't. I know that for a fucking fact. And if you don't believe me, I'll take you to him," she urged. She took my face in her hands, forcing me to see the seriousness in her expression. All hard lines, with a hint of sympathy swirling in her ocean blue eyes. "I know where he is today."