“Okay. That’s fine.” She opened the door wider.
Dakota looked curious, but only said, “You can take him back to camp later if you want or have him stay home. Just phone the office and let us know which.”
“I will,” Liz promised.
Dakota waved and left.
Liz followed her son into the living room. Instead of sitting he turned to face her.
His dark eyes, so like Ethan’s, were bright with emotion. He pressed his lips together, as if gathering his thoughts, then spoke.
“You should have married Dad.”
She held in a groan. Not exactly a turn she expected the conversation to take, and not a concept she looked forward to explaining.
“Is this about what that woman said on Saturday?” she asked, doing her best to sound calm.
“Sort of. Parents get married.”
“Some do. Some don’t.”
Tyler glared at her. “I wanted to know my dad. I kept asking and asking and you wouldn’t tell me. You wouldn’t say anything. It’s not fair.” His voice escalated exponentially.
“Okay, if we’re going to have this conversation, we’re going to sit down and we’re going to speak calmly. If you’re going to get upset and yell, I’m not talking to you.”
“Fine,” he grumbled and collapsed on the sofa, his arms folded across his chest.
She sat on the coffee table in front of him, so they were facing each other.
“When I found out I was pregnant, I was terrified. I was only four years older than Melissa. Do you think she’s ready to be a mom?”
He shook his head but didn’t speak.
“I came back to tell your dad, but he was with someone else. A girl. And I was hurt and confused, so I left.”
“You should have stayed. You should have tried harder.”
“I know.”
“You should have,” Tyler repeated, his voice getting louder again. “He would have married you. I asked him and he said he would have married you. We would have been a family.”
She drew in a breath. “Tyler, please. I know you’re upset, but I meant what I said. I’m not having a screaming match with you.” Especially not about this.
She reached out to touch his hand, but he jerked it back. That hurt more than the questions, more than the accusations.
“He would have been my dad,” her son said more quietly.
What was she supposed to say to that? How could she explain?
“I was very young.”
“You keep saying that. I don’t care. You were wrong.” His eyes filled with tears. “You kept me from my dad.”
Which is what this was about.
How was she supposed to explain about hurt pride and a bruised heart? Maybe she didn’t.
“You’re right,” she said again softly. “I did keep you from him. That wasn’t my intent. I didn’t mean to hurt either of you, but that’s what happened and I’m sorry.”
“That’s not good enough.” A tear slipped down his cheek. He looked away. “I needed my dad and he wasn’t there.”
She thought about pointing out how she’d tried again five years ago, but fate, in the form of Rayanne, had intervened. Information Tyler would need at some point, but not now.
“I can’t change the past,” she stated, feeling sick to her stomach.
“He would have come to get me,” Tyler told her, his voice fierce with emotion. “He would have wanted me with him.” He turned to glare at her. “I want to live with him. I want to live with my dad and not you.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
HELL CAME IN THE FORM OF A pain that wouldn’t go away. Ethan’s rejection was nothing when compared with her only child telling her that he didn’t want to live with her anymore. It was as if Tyler reached into her chest and pulled out her still-beating heart and threw it in the trash. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. All she knew was that she couldn’t cry in front of him because it might upset him. An irrational, maternal response that came from instinct.
She stood, amazed that her legs still worked, then walked into the kitchen.
“Did you hear me?” he yelled, following her. “I don’t want to live with you. I want to live with my dad.”
Each breath sliced through her like a knife. She half expected to see blood pouring out of her body, pooling at her feet. It felt like she was dying. Truly no death could be worse.
After finding Denise’s phone number, she turned to Tyler.
“I heard you,” she said quietly. “I need to make a call, then we’re leaving.”
“I don’t want to go back to camp.”
“Good, because you’re not.” Liz couldn’t imagine making the drive. She was in no shape to negotiate the mountain road and surely shouldn’t be behind the wheel of anything dangerous.
She punched in the phone number, then waited until Ethan’s mother answered.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Denise. It’s Liz.”
“Oh, hi. How are you?”
Talk about a question she couldn’t answer. “I know it’s really short notice, but could you please take Tyler for a couple hours? He’s not sick or anything.”
“Of course. He’s not at camp?”
“Not right now. May I bring him over now?”
“Sure. Is everything all right?”
No. Nothing was all right. Nothing would ever be all right again. “May I bring him now?”
There was a pause. “I’ll be here.”
“Good.”
Liz grabbed her cell phone and her house keys.
“Let’s go,” she told Tyler and walked out of the house.
It took less than fifteen minutes to get to Denise’s place. Tyler didn’t speak and Liz was grateful. When they reached the welcoming home, she stopped on the sidewalk.
“Go on in,” she said. “I’ll wait here. I’ll be by to pick you up later.”
Her son, the child she had given birth to, worried over and loved with her whole heart, looked at her with angry eyes. “I want to live with my dad.”
“I got that.”
“I’ll run away if you don’t let me.”
More wounds, she thought sadly. More pain. A few short weeks ago she and Tyler had been so close. She would never have believed he could speak to her like this. That he would want to drive her out of his life. He was only eleven. How could he not love her?
The front door opened and Denise stood there. The other woman probably wanted to ask what was wrong, but instead she gave Liz an encouraging smile, then turned to Tyler.
“Hi. Have you had lunch?”
“I’m not hungry,” Tyler groused.
“Then we’ve got a problem because I just ordered a pizza.”
Tyler smiled slowly. “With pepperoni?”
“It’s not pizza if there’s no pepperoni.”
