Page 47 of Dangerous Obsession

“Okay, slugger.” Cole wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed her temple. “How about you let the professionals handle this?”

“Fine.” She grumbled, then looked off to the side. “Sounds like our little one is ready to start his day.”

“You go take care of my nephew and we can talk later,” Marigold said.

“Oh, we’re definitely going to be talking, young lady.” Jazzy stood. “I’ll call you after I feed the little man.”

“Sounds good.” Marigold grinned.

Dulce handed her phone to Cole. He gave her ass a light smack as she walked away, then returned his attention to the matter at hand.

“Sebastian is working his sources to get more details about the terms of Barnum’s release.” He smoothed his hand down the side of his beard. “But if he so much as sneezes in your direction, Marigold, we won’t wait for the courts to handle it. Okay?”

“Okay.” She nodded. “Thanks, Cole.”

“You bet.” He stood. “I’m going to go say good morning to my son. I’ll be in touch.”

The call over, she tossed her phone onto the nightstand and blew out a long breath.

“Can you tell me about these?” She dragged her fingertips over the scars on his forearms.

Her desire to change the subject away from her ex was obvious. He understood and went with it.

“I got them in a car accident a few months before my fifth birthday.” He twisted his arm to look at the familiar scars. “My parents and I had just spent a week visiting my grandmother and were headed home. We were driving through the country on this really dark, two-lane road.” He thought back to the worst night of his life. “I was in a booster seat behind my dad and was sort of in and out of sleep when all of a sudden, a bright light woke me up. The next thing I remember is waking up to flashing red and blue lights.”

For a long time, certain things triggered flashes of memories from that night—tires screeching, glass breaking, the crackle of flames, and the noxious smell of plastic burning. Not as much now as before he enlisted in the army. The sounds and sensations of war had the power to overwhelm most everything.

“I saw our car on its side and a couple of firemen were spraying foam over it. I immediately freaked out and started screaming and yelling for my mom and dad. A couple of state patrolmen standing by the side of the road heard me and started looking for the source of the noise.”

“Oh, my gosh.” She turned to face him. “They didn’t know you were there?”

“They had no idea.” He shook his head. “It was dark, and I was wedged so deeply into the bushes they couldn’t see me. One of them called out to me and said to keep yelling. So I did until they found me. I was still strapped into my booster seat.”

Marigold’s heart broke for the scared little boy, hurt and alone on the side of the road.

“I found out later that a drunk driver crossed into our lane and slammed into the driver’s-side door of our minivan. We rolled a couple of times, and somehow, I was thrown out, booster seat and all.” He touched his scars. “These are from sliding across the pavement. I have a few on my legs, too, but I had jeans on, so they’re not as bad. I also ended up with a broken ankle and broken arm.”

Marigold couldn’t help herself; she took hold of his hand with both of hers and held it to her chest. What if he hadn’t screamed? What if they hadn’t found him there?

“Years later, I went back to the scene of the accident and pinpointed the spot where they found me. By then, all of the bushes had been cleared. That’s when I discovered there was a deep, water-filled ditch about three feet away from where I ended up.”

“Those bushes saved you from drowning.”

“They did.”

“What happened to your mom and dad?” She hated to ask, but she was desperate to know everything about him. “If you don’t want to talk about it, I totally understand.”

“I don’t mind, and I want you to know.” He kissed her knuckles. “My father died instantly; my mother died on the way to the hospital. The kid who hit them was only seventeen. He died, too.”

“What a horrible tragedy. That must’ve been terrible for you.” Marigold’s parents were far from perfect, but she couldn’t imagine losing them at such a young age.

“It was, and it took a while for me to recover. Not just physically but emotionally. Honestly, I give all the credit to my grandmother. She was a fifty-six-year-old widow living her best life in a fifty-five-plus community,andshe was dealing with the death of her only child, my mom. Yet, without hesitation, she stepped up. She filed for a special exemption from the community board to make it possible for me to live with her. And I have it on good authority she threatened to move away and take her much-loved homemade pastries with her if they didn’t agree.” A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Every day, she would remind me how my parents would want me to live a happy and full life. And she made sure we talked about thema lotin order to keep their memories alive in my head”—he tapped his temple—“and in my heart.” He flattened his hand to the center of his chest. “She did an amazing job filling the void left behind by my parents.”

“She sounds like an incredible woman.” Marigold would love to meet her one day.

“Eudoria Connelly—Dori, as most people call her—is one of the most loving, caring, determined people I’ve ever known.” His affection for his grandmother imbued every word. “Her faith is strong, and she credits it for helping her through losing her husband and only child.” He skimmed his fingertip along Marigold’s jaw. “She’s going to love you.”

“You think so, huh?” Marigold kept her tone teasing, not wanting to give away how much his words meant to her.

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