Page 63 of The Pucking Wrong Man

The woman pulled a steak knife from behind her back and shook it at me.

Alright. I liked this lady.

I held up my hands and took a respectful step back. A steak knife to the ribs wasn’t really on the docket for tonight.

But I appreciated the effort on Anastasia’s behalf. It was nice to see that someone was on my little dancer’s side besides me.

“You can go back out there now, fancy pants.” She pointed the knife at me and slid it in the direction of the main dining area. “Get to walking.”

I shot a longing glance behind her where Anastasia was standing, with her back to us at the giant sink, furiously scrubbing dishes.

Knowing I had a lot of work to do to get her out of the shelter, I backed away, taking a few steps before I turned around—just so I was out of reach of the pink haired, steak knife lady.

A rare combination indeed—I snorted to myself at that one. Where was Lancaster when I needed him? He would have thought that comment was hilarious.

I hated every step I took away from her, but as I pushed out the door of Charlie’s, my path was set.

Getting into the car, I gripped the steering wheel, wondering if my plan was stupid. Maybe I should just kidnap her....

Her black eye and glistening tears filled my mind, macabre and awful and making me sick.

Memories came rushing up, to another time a woman's black eye had brought me to my knees...

I was huddled in the corner of my room. I was seven years old today, but instead of my birthday cake and my new toy truck Dan had promised me—he had been fighting with Mommy all day.

Their yelling was coming from everywhere, shouts and crashes that kept making me jump. Mommy had told me to stay in my room, so I did, clutching my stuffed bear tight. Sometimes it got like this, I told myself. They always made up.

It felt like forever before the house got really, really quiet. Sometimes, the quiet felt even more scary than their yells.

I opened my bedroom door slowly and stepped into the hallway, my heart pounding. The living room was just ahead, and I walked quietly, in case my stepdad was nearby.

When I reached the living room, I saw Mommy on the floor, curled up and crying. Her face was different, with a black eye and blood on her lip. I froze. She looked up and her tear-filled eyes met mine. The pain and sadness in her face made my chest hurt.

“Mommy?” I whispered, my voice tiny and shaky.

Mommy tried to smile, but it looked wrong. She reached out to me, and I ran over, wrapping my arms around her. She held me tightly, her tears wetting my hair. Mommy always gave me good hugs, like she was trying to keep me safe from everything bad. She took a shaky breath and stroked my hair, her hand trembling.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” she whispered, her voice shaking but soft. “Mommy’s going to be okay. Don’t worry, my little brave boy.”

I laid down and stared at her with wide, tear-filled eyes, not fully understanding but wanting to believe her. I could see the pain in her eyes, the bruises on her face, but her touch was warm and made me feel a bit better.

“Are you hurt, Mommy?” I asked, my voice small and scared.

She forced a gentle smile, even though it looked like it hurt her to do it. “Just a little, Camden. But I’m strong, and I’ll be fine. You don’t have to worry, okay?”

“Mommy, I’ll take care of you,” I told her, handing her Teddy so she could feel better. Teddy always made me feel better.

She kissed the top of my head, her tears mixing with mine. “You and Teddy are so brave and sweet, my boy. Mommy is the luckiest to have you both.”

That made me smile because I wanted to be brave and sweet for her even though Dan didn’t like it when I was sweet.

She didn’t get off the floor all night, but she smiled every time I patted her back.

Teddy and I never left her side.

I came back to the present, squeezing the steering wheel so tightly that it made a cracking sound.

I’d failed my mother.

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