Page 17 of These Jagged Edges

“I said it because you are,” I tell her honestly, answering the question she refuses to ask. Her sharp intake of breath is her only reply.

"Alright, what’s got you in here working yourself into the ground and ignoring every damn time I’ve told you to take a break?"

She looks at me as if she’s unraveling me, peeling away every layer, determined to reach the very center of who I am. “You have the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen. Sometimes they’re icy with this cold hardness to them, other times their bright, glowing with this inner fire that’s alive. But more often than not their stormy, filled with such an intensity that it burns through everything.”

Not everything, just you, I think to myself.

This is unfamiliar ground we’ve stepped into, a place I’ve never expected to find myself. Normally, I can push people away without even trying—a glare, a cold silence, and they scatter. But with her, it’s different. Every moment I spend with her feels too short, and I catch myself wanting more time, which surprises me. I’ve always been a hard man, shaped by life that way, and I wore that toughness like armor. But the day she stood on my porch and told me my anger frightened her, something inside me twisted. I hated that she felt that way, and in that moment, I knew I’d do anything to make her see I wasn’t someone she had to be afraid of.

“What are they right now?” I ask her curious to know what reflected when I looked at her.

“Stormy,” she tells me in a raspy voice, and I notice the tears have stopped.

She swallows and looks at the scar on my lip, something I notice she does a lot. “You have a lovely family; I wish I had that growing up.”

“So, you came in here like a bat out of hell because of my family?” I ask in confusion.

Evie laughs out loud. “What do you think?”

I shrug because fuck if I know. I’m well versed in the art of kicking ass and not reading between the fucking lines.

“When I was little, I used to dream of a different kind of life, one where love and warmth weren’t things you had to search for. I promised myself that if I ever had kids, I’d give them everything I never had—unconditional love, a place where they felt safe, the simple joy of happiness. I’d give them a bed to sleep on, something I remember wanting so badly, a place that was theirs, where they felt like they belonged...”

Her voice trails off, but I’m already seeing it—a smaller version of her, the same beauty, but neglected. Unloved, unsafe. The thought of her growing up that way, with no one to protect her, fills me with a quiet rage. How could anyone fail her like that? How could they let her suffer? It’s infuriating, and it’s all I can do to keep my anger in check.

“Evie.”

“I grew up in a home where emotional abuse was constant. My mother was a junkie, never having anything good to say about me or life itself. Though she never laid a hand on me, her words slowly dismantled my self-worth, leaving me feeling hollow. She treated me like I was invisible most of the time, and over the years, I started to believe I really was. The only time she said much of anything to me was to tell me I was cursed.”

`“Cursed?”

“Yeah, these eyes had cursed her life. Ruined it.” She waves dismissively at her eyes.

“That’s fucking bullshit! Where was your dad?” I can feel my blood pressure rising. Who was this bitch? I don’t condone hitting women but give Louisiana a twenty and a box of Whoppers she’d whoop anyone’s ass. How pathetic could your life be if you victimize your own daughter? If Livvy was still here... I push the thought away. This isn’t about me.

“Never knew him.” She blows out a deep breath.

“Evie, you know you’re a great mom, right?” She has to know that. I mean how the fuck could she not?

I watch her shift uncomfortably at my question. “Not really, but I’d like to believe it one day.”

“Anyone who’s ever watched you with those boys can see it clear as day—they’re so deeply loved. They’re the happiest damn kids in town, hell, probably in the whole state. And that’s not by chance. It’s because you’re their mama. Every smile, every laugh, every bit of joy they carry with them, it all comes back to you. You pour your heart into them, and it shows in everything they do. You’ve given them a life full of love, and anyone with eyes can see just how much that means.” I point at her to make my point.

My heart breaks as I think of my sweet Livvy. I loved her so damn much. But this isn’t about me, I remind myself again, it’s about her and this ridiculous ass notion she’s doesn’t think she’s a great mom.

I knew she ran away from something, and whatever it is made her feel unworthy of so much. As much as I crave to uncover what that something is, I yearn for her to trust me enough to share it in her own time. I don’t want to pressure her or corner her into revealing her secrets; I want her to feel safe opening up to me willingly.

She blesses me with a watery smile. “For a guy who doesn’t say much, you just said a whole mouthful.”

“Don’t fucking get used to it.” I tell her giving her quick grin.

Her small hand grasps mine, and I freeze, slowly looking down in disbelief. Evie, who avoids touching any man, no matter the circumstance—except for Vic—is reaching for me. Except the day she traced the scars littered on my side. The weight of her choice hits me hard, knowing what she’s been through. My throat tightens as I meet her gaze. Her mismatched eyes, one warm brown, the other an icy blue, lock onto mine, searching forsomething I’m not sure I deserve. But in this moment, her touch feels like a fragile step toward trust.

“Thank you Maddox.”

All I can manage is a weak ass nod in reply.

Chapter Eight

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