Page 118 of The Only Goal

With Baxter.

I bite my bottom lip, fighting a giddy smile and reminding myself that I have a long way to go before that can be my reality. Dammit. Part of me just wants to run to him now, but I’m wise enough to do things in the correct order and avoid any unnecessary drama for Kai.

Bless my sweet boy. I just want to give him the best life possible.

Creeping up to his doorway, I push the door open a little wider and peer into his room, using the glow from his night-light to spot him and?—

Wait.

Where is he?

Forgetting about quiet, I bustle into the room and double-check his thrown-back covers, searching the darkness for him.

“Kai? Where you are, kiddo?”

Frowning, I head to the bathroom, but it’s dark and quiet. I check my en suite, too, and my bed, then race around the upstairs rooms and check every single one, including the storage closet.

He’s in none of them.

My breath catches in my throat as I sprint down the stairs, panic steadily growing inside me as I check the den, the laundry, the kitchen, and finally burst into the living room.

“Where is he?”

“What?” Hudson snaps at me, his eyebrows dipping into a sharp V.

“What have you done with Kai?”

His expression morphs again to one of utter confusion. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“He’s not in his bed. He’s not in any of the rooms upstairs. What the fuck have you done with my son!” I end up screaming, hysteria flirting with the edges of my brain as I try and fail to find some semblance of calm. “I swear, Hudson, if you?—”

“I haven’t done anything with him!” He slams the bottle down on the coffee table, his movements a touch wobbly. I guess that’s what happens when you don’t even bother drinking spirits out of a glass. The bottle hits the coaster and tips to the side, spilling amber liquid along the wood. It drips onto the plush rug beneath, and neither of us moves to clean it. Hudson snatches the bottle, taking another swig before placing it on the carpet.

He glares back at me, and we sound like a couple of bulls ready to charge.

“Where is he?” My voice starts to shake.

“I. Don’t. Know.”

“Well, you better help me find him,” I snap. “He’s only four years old, and who knows what he’s done or where he’s gone.” Tears start to burn, then spill down my cheeks. “What if he heard us fighting and got scared? Maybe he ran away or?—”

“I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Don’t try to placate me with bullshit!” I storm to the entrance and shove my shoes on, grabbing a jacket and then hunting for a flashlight. “Get off your ass and help me find him.”

He stands up with a weary sigh, and I’m struck by my first pull of actual hatred for the man I married. He’s not even worried that his child is missing! Fucking monster!

I yell a series of obscenities at him as he slowly shuffles away from the couch and ambles toward me.

“You say you want to fight for him. You threatened to take me to court, and you’re not even concerned that he’s gone!”

“Because you’re overreacting!” he spits. “He’s probably somewhere in this house. Where are his favorite hiding spots?”

I brush past him with an angry growl and thump my way back upstairs, hissing over my shoulder, “You know, if you were actually home more often, you’d probably know the answer to that question.”

His stare is dry and unimpressed, and I can’t help a scornful scoff as I run back upstairs and start my second round of frantic hunting.

CHAPTER 55

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