Page 64 of Piece Of Me

“What do you want, Malcom? How did you find me?”

“Not here,” he said softly.

Something took root inside Scarlett. It twisted and she found it hard to focus. Things were going to change. She knew that now. Malcom wouldn’t have come this far unless he wanted something. It wasn’t her. He’d made that quite clear, so the only thing left was…Hank.

The fear inside her was a big old knot that nearly had Scarlett on her knees, but she raised her chin and stared him down. No way was she going to show him that.

He took a step closer, and she flinched. “I won’t hurt you, Scarlett.”

“You can’t hurt me anymore.”

Malcom’s eyes narrowed; his full mouth thinned. He offered her a piece of paper. “Take it.”

Scarlett grabbed the paper and glanced down.

“It’s a hotel in Bozeman.”

“I know what it is,” she snapped, glaring at him. “What do you want?” she repeated.

“You, luv.” He cracked a smile and her skin crawled. “Come and see me tomorrow. We need to chat.

She shook her head, an automatic “no” on her lips but he didn’t give her a chance to reply.

“There are things we need to discuss. Things we need to settle, so to speak. I don’t want to ruin what looks like a lovely family gathering by getting into all that right now.” He paused. “But if you leave me no choice, I’m willing to give it a go.”

Malcom put his aviators on and took a step back. “I’ll see you tomorrow, luv.” And with a slight nod he left the way he’d come.

Scarlett stared down at the paper in her hand, every instinct yelling at her to rip it up and toss it on the grill. But she didn’t. Instead, she slipped it inside the front pocket of her shorts and whirled around, her only thought was Hank. She needed him.

She ran past her brothers and Taz and didn’t stop until she made it inside the house. Rosie had Hank in her arms, cleaning food from his sweet face, but stopped when Scarlett appeared. The woman’s smile slowly faded, and she frowned.

“Are you all right?” Her concern was heavy, and rightly so.

“Give him to me,” Scarlett said walking toward them.

“Scarlett, what’s happened?”

“Give him to me,” she said again, voice loud and agitated. Hank took one look at her, and his bottom lip started to quiver. “It’s okay, my boy,” she whispered, suddenly and utterly defeated.

Scarlett took her child and ran upstairs, leaving Rosie stunned and confused. When she was safe in her room with the door closed and the lock pulled, the tears came and she could do nothing but let them fall.

Scarlett collapsed onto the chair and rocked back and forth, holding Hank, whispering soothing words of love, and willing her mind to clear. He finally relaxed, and with a full belly it didn’t take long for her son to fall asleep. His dark lashes were long and nearly swept the top of his cheeks. She gently touched his face, his nose, and the dimple in his chin.

“I love you so much,” she whispered.

Sadness, an old familiar friend, blanketed Scarlett as she gazed down at the perfect little human who’d claimed her heart before he was even born. Hank was everything to her. He was already such a little man, with a bubbly personality, obvious likes and dislikes, and a giggle that would make the coldest heart thaw. Yet, Malcom hadn’t asked about him. He’d come across the ocean and he hadn’t asked about his son. Did he even know the sex of his child?

What was he up to? What could he possible want?

She rested her head back, mentally exhausted, and after a while, fell asleep, Hank tucked into her arms. The shadows were long when she woke up, and with her son still deep under, Scarlett got up and placed him in his crib. She stood back and watched him, not wanting to leave, but with a soft knock at the door, she finally crossed the room and unlocked it. Taz stood there, and wordlessly she walked into his embrace.

He was warm and strong and, in that moment, all she needed. But reality has a way of breaking apart the things we need the most and as her thoughts turned once again to Malcom, she pulled away and took a step back.

“Hank’s asleep?”

She nodded.

Taz ran his hand over his chin, his expression as serious as she’d ever seen it. “We’re all worried about you.”

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