Page 38 of Unhinged
Me: I'd never forget his face. It's him. He found us. But how?
Ike: I'll be home soon. Don't panic, Brydge. We'll handle it.
Don't panic?
How am I supposed to stay calm when the man who ripped my life apart is in town? The man who hurt me. The man whodoesn’t know he fathered a child the same night he almost ended me.
If Earl knew about Judge, he’d take him. I know he would. He’d twist him into someone cold and cruel, someone molded in his image. I won’t let that happen.
But what’s worse—why is he here now? After nine years? Surely he doesn’t wantme. He never wanted me; I was just something he could overpower.
But I know his secret. Not just know it—Iamhis secret. His victim. His witness. A man doesn’t leave loose ends like that hanging around.
I force my legs to carry me inside.
Judge and Jackie are sprawled on the floor, setting upGuess Who. Their laughter rises and falls as they flip down characters and throw out guesses. I try to let their joy settle my nerves, but my mind keeps spinning.
The front door bangs open, and Ike storms inside, his boots scuffing hard against the floor. His face is like thunder — jaw clenched, eyes blazing, shoulders tight enough to snap. I don’t have to ask. He found something else out. He knows more.
“Kitchen. Now.” Ike barks.
Judge’s head pops up, his face scrunching in concern. I force a casual shrug. “No idea what that’s about,” I lie, flashing him a small smile.
“Judge, honey, does your person have a mustache?” Jackie asks, cheerful but a little too bright—she’s helping by keeping him calm and distracted.
I mouththank youto her, and she gives me a small nod before focusing back on the game.
In the kitchen, Ike leans on the counter, arms crossed tightly across his chest. The look on his face makes my stomach drop.
“What’s up?” I ask. “Did you see him? You’ve seen his picture.”
“I didn’t,” Ike says, his face grim. “But I asked around at the gym. Showed his picture to a few of the guys.”
“And?”
He sighs, shoulders sagging. “I’m sorry, kid.”
My throat tightens. “Sorry for what? What is happening, Ike? Don’t do this to me. Why is he here? How did he know to come here?”
Ike scrubs a hand down his face, like he’s trying to figure out how to soften the blow. “One of my fighters knows him. Apparently... well... Eric and Tina are distant cousins. Tina was talking about you, showed a picture, and Eric recognized you. When he heard you were here visiting, he called her.”
Ike’s gaze flicks toward the living room like he's already regretting telling me.
“What else, Ike?” I murmur. “You’re not telling me everything.”
Ike swallows hard. “Eric told him you have a son.”
It’s like someone’s doused me in ice water. The room spins, and I grip the counter to stay upright. My pulse pounds in my ears.
“I’m so sorry, kid.”
“It’s not your fault,” I rasp, each breath burning in my chest. “But we need to go.Now.”
“You do,” Ike agrees. “Go grab what you can and get out. I’ll handle things if he shows up here. And Eric...well, I’ll deal with him too. Promise.”
“Ike…” My voice cracks as I lean in and kiss his cheek. “Be safe.”
“You too,” he says, giving my arm a firm squeeze.
