Tia’s angry face morphs into heartbreak the moment I utter the words, “Do you know what happens to kids in care? Do you know what some kids go through?”
I couldn’t help the vitriol that spewed from me. Knowing what my brothers have been through, knowing the traumas that shaped them into the vulnerable, angry, detached people they are today made me lash out and say hurtful, hate-filled shit to her.
I felt that I had to defend them in some way, make her somehow realize the consequences of such decisions as putting your child in care. And for what? Because she doesn’t have a good job? Because some dick knocked her up and didn’t stick around?
No, that’s inexcusable. There is never a reason for your child to be in care. Not in my opinion, at least.
But after witnessing the heartbreak on her face and watching her expression crumble in front of my very eyes, I knew that decision wasn’t taken lightly. Shit, I knew she never had any other choice, and when her spine went as straight as steel and she uttered those words to me, I knew.
“I know what it feels like. I know what some sick bastards are capable of, and without a shadow of a doubt, I would do every fucking thing in my power to stop that, so don’t you dare tell me I don’t know what happens in care. Don’t you fucking dare!”
I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, my girl’s been through hell—maybe even still going through hell—and I just accused her of being a bad mother. The worst kind of mother.
My shoulders slacken, and I take a step toward her, but she steps back, taking a chunk of my heart with her.
“Tia . . . I . . .”
She shakes her head vigorously, her lip trembling. “I don’t want to hear it, Cole. I don’t want to hear anything you have to say to me.”
My heart races in panic, and my hands tremble at the thought of me not only hurting her, destroying her soul, but her leaving here without me.
She turns her back and begins to walk away, but I’ll be damned if she leaves me like this, leaves us like this.
I rush toward her and spin her to face me, bending slightly to rest my forehead against hers. I swallow thickly, her eyes refusing to meet mine.
“Beauty. Fuck.” I scrub a hand over my head. “I’m sorry. Please. Please, look at me.”
Slowly, her eyes rise, hurt seeping through them, causing my breath to stutter. Tears streak her beautiful face, and I hate myself for causing them. I vow, here and fucking now, to never make my girl cry again. Never.
“I’m sorry.” I take a hold of her hand and place it over my beating heart, hoping the thundering in my chest will dissipate at her gentle touch, hoping she can see and feel the truth from inside me. “I’m sorry,” I repeat once again.
I audibly exhale when her tense shoulders drop, and she gives me a small nod, then turns her head away from me. I know I’ve fucked up. Jesus, do I know it.
But I follow her back toward her apartment like a lost puppy, desperate for her not to cut me off completely.
Tia passes me a bottle of water from the refrigerator, then sits in the chair opposite me—the one next to the table and not beside me on the couch. That action alone hurts.
I feel like a pussy, but I need her to want me like I desperately want her. Instead, she’s choosing to put distance between us, and it feels like she’s on the other side of the world right now.
Tia dips her head and stares at her bare feet. “I had Harper when I was sixteen.”
I suck in a breath—because, Jesus, that’s young.
Watching her closely, she sounds almost robotic as she speaks, staring at the carpet instead of toward me, as though she’s completely detaching herself.
“I’d been in care my whole life, Cole.” Her distraught eyes meet mine, and I want to reach out and hold her, stroke her hair, and tell her how sorry I am.
I move to stand, but she shakes her head and holds her hand up to stop me. So, my sorry ass lands back on the couch.
“I never intended on getting pregnant.” She shakes her head. “I’m not stupid, Cole.” She looks at me pointedly. “I had dreams, big dreams.” Her tear-filled eyes look up toward the ceiling as she tries to fight her emotions.
“I was in love with a boy older than me.” My pulse races when she mentions some jumped-up punk, and I want to pummel him for leaving her in that mess. “He wasn’t my baby’s father.” My breath stutters as I wait for her to elaborate.
Her body visibly shakes, and her chin wobbles. I clench my fists to stop me from reaching out, but I know she needs to do this alone. Like she always has.
“What I’m about to tell you—” She swallows harshly. “You can never tell anyone else. Swear it.”
I stare at her in shock. She’s trusting me, after how I treated her. Accused her of such shit. She’s trusting me.
“Please,” she vulnerably tacks on at the end, causing my heart to dip at her words.
I know what she says next is going to be bad. I can see it as clear as day. It’s painted on her face, it’s locked up tight inside her, screaming to get out, desperate to trust someone but not knowing who.
I raise my head and straighten my shoulders; I’ll be that for her. I’ll be the man she needs, the one she confides in, the one to protect her at all costs.
“I’m here for you, beauty.” I stare into her eyes with a confidence that emanates from me. Her shoulders relax, and she licks her lips nervously.
“I . . . I . . .” She wrings her hands together and takes a deep breath. “I was forced. While I was in care.”
I suck in a sharp breath, my body tightening to the point of pain. My jaw locks, and my eyes flare with rage—an indescribable rage. I need to kill someone, make them fucking pay for hurting her.
My eyes meet hers, and my heart shatters.
“They took her from me. They said I wasn’t a suitable mother, that my mental health wasn’t stable enough.”
My mind goes fucking wild. What the fuck? Not stable enough? A fucking child was raped while in care, and they tear her baby from her?
“Where is she now?” I snipe the words out and instantly regret them when she jolts. I sigh and get up from the couch, not giving her the choice but to let her know I’m here for her.
For both of them.
I kneel at her feet so we’re face-to-face, me and my beauty. Gently, I tuck the tear-drenched locks from her face behind her ear. “Where is she, beauty?”
“She’s been with a couple in care since she was six months old.” Her chest begins to rise and fall rapidly. “They said they can offer her a better life without me.”
Anger boils inside me. They want to shut her out? Her own mother?
“They have money, Cole. They want to adopt her.”
My eyes flare at her words.
“That’s not what I want.” Tia shakes her head from side to side. “I want my baby. She’s mine, and they won’t give her back!” She yells the last part before she drops her head onto my shoulder and cries uncontrollably into my neck. My arms band around her, holding her tightly.
There’s no fucking way I’ll let them take her away from Tia. No fucking way.
“It’s okay, beauty. I got you. Shhh, please don’t cry.” I hate it, hate hearing her sobs, her pain.
I scoop her off the chair and into my arms, carrying her toward her bedroom, dropping kisses onto her head as she sobs deep into my neck.
“Hush, beauty. I got you.”
