BAXTER
It’s late by the time I finally check into a motel. I’ve put some decent miles between myself and Gladstone, and I need some rest before I finally decide what to do about Tammy. I should wait until she’s read my email. As I slump onto my bed and check my inbox, I start to worry that she’s seen it but is just refusing to reply.
“Shit,” I mutter, leaning my head back and closing my eyes.
Is showing up the right thing do to?
Will my knocking on her door be exactly what she needs or her worst nightmare?
I want to respect her choices, but…
Pulling up her name on the screen, I stare at her number, tempted to call it. I want to hear her voice, check that she’s okay.
But what if Hudson’s in the room?
What if my contact makes things more difficult for her?
Has she told him we slept together?
Has she?—
My breath catches as the phone in my hand starts to ring. I stare at Tammy’s number scrolling across my screen and sit up, willing my heart to calm the fuck down so it doesn’t show in my voice when I answer this call.
“Hey,” I manage to rasp, then cringe that I wasn’t more friendly.
“Baxter?” Kai’s sweet voice is soft and kind of wobbly.
“Hey, buddy.” I instantly grin, my tone growing cheerful… until I check the clock and wonder what he’s still doing up. “How’s it going?”
Kai sniffs in response, and I’m suddenly aware that he’s crying.
I soften my voice as concern swirls through me like a tornado.
“Kai? You okay? Where’s Mommy?”
“She’s downstairs yelling with Daddy.”
Jerking up straight, I jump off the bed and start to pace. Anger fires through me at the thought of Hudson going off on her. Why? What’s he pissed about?
But Kai said she was yelling, too, and shit, I hate that he has to hear that.
“Sorry, buddy. That’s not very nice.” It’s an effort to keep my voice light and genial. “They’re not hurting each other, are they?”
I will kill him if he causes her any kind of harm.
I want to maim him anyway for fucking cheating on her, then having the audacity to raise his voice around her.
What the fuck!
That shithead should be on his knees groveling, repenting, begging for her forgiveness.
“I don’t think so. I can’t see them, but Mommy’s crying, and I haven’t heard her like that before.”
“Is it scary?”
“Yes.” His voice is barely a whisper, and my chest starts to hurt in new and fresh ways.
“So, where are you hiding?”