Page 49 of Hideaway Whirlwind
Russell tries to step in my way, but one look at him—try and stop me, brother, and see what happens—has him retreating. I’ve lost his trust as well. The pain of it doesn’t come close to the pain I’ve dealt Birdie.
The music is dulled enough that we won’t have to yell to hear each other once the front door is closed behind us, and I lead Dustin over to the wooden porch swing hanging to theside. I don’t try my luck sitting on the swing, unsure of how much weight it can bear, and choose to sit in the rocking chair closest to him.
Dustin surprises me by speaking first. “I’ll kill you dead if you hurt Mommy.”
I rub my jaw and tug on my beard. “Alright.”
His brows go up, his mouth falling open with shock, revealing the empty space where his two bottom front teeth should be, which he must have lost in the last few days, proving how much I’ve already missed out on. “You’re weird,” he says, twisting his hands on his lap.
I lay my right hand on top of his, squeezing gently. “You love your mama.”
Dustin nods, sniffling.
“So do I,” I say, though I should have said it first to Birdie. Still, I think he needs to hear it. “Same as I love you and the girls.”
“Then why’d you make her cry?”
“I didn’t mean to. Sometimes we fu—mess up and accidentally hurt the people we love.” It’s a lousy explanation, but the best I have to offer on the spot.
Dustin yanks his hands out from under mine. “Did you hit her?”
“No,” I reassure him quickly, scooting to the edge of my chair to get closer. “I would never hit her. I’d never hit any of you, not ever. But I…” I take a deep breath and tap the side of my head. “But I didn’t listen to her when I should have, and that’s just as bad.”
“You’re bad?”
“I try not to be. But sometimes, yeah, I am,” I answer honestly. There’s plenty I’ll have to atone for when I meet mymaker.
“Me too,” Dustin whispers.
“No, you’re not, son. I can promise you that.”
Tears roll down Dustin’s face, and he openly sobs when he says, “Quincy and Priscilla hurt Mommy bad…and I c-couldn’t stop…stop nothing.”
I lift him off the swing, crushing him in a hug when I stand. I’m lost as to what to say, so I simply hold him, crying right along with him as I think of the hell they’ve been through when they’re all still so young.
Finally, it comes to me. “I’ll never let anyone hurt her again.”Not even me. “And when you’re a little older, I’ll teach you how to keep you and them safe, too, ok?” I don’t know if that was the right thing to say, promising a little boy things I probably shouldn’t, but maybe it was what he needed to hear, since he nods and hugs me back, tightening his skinny arms around my neck.
Too few minutes later, Davis appears behind me, though he keeps his hands to himself like I should have. “Time to go,” he says, anddamnit, I am a bad man, because I want to kill him for interrupting.
The music has been turned down, and Layla and Russell step out onto the porch. Russell gives me a dark look, almost as if he doesn’t recognize me, but uses a gentle voice when he says to Dustin, “How ‘bout we start your new puzzle before bed? The girls are getting it set up, and I think they’re going to need their big brother’s help.”
Dustin shakes his head, but I squeeze him extra tight before lowering him to the floor. “That sounds like fun. Bet you and your sisters will love it.”
“You wanna help too?” he asks.
I want to. Oh, how I want to. But Davis clears his throat, tipping his head toward the driveway.
“Not tonight,” I say. “I have to get home to feed the dogs and let them out so they don’t piss—I mean, potty on the floor.”
“I’ll come with you!” Though he’s not wearing shoes, Dustin tugs on my hand, hoping I’ll follow him off the porch.
I lift him back up and carry him to the door. “You need to stay here with your mama and sisters, ok?” Dustin slumps, no more fight left in him, which I both love and hate. Davis’s mouth is set in a grim line, his hands low on his hips when I try to pass. I say to him from the side of my mouth, “Let me say goodbye, then I’ll go.”
“Fine,” Davis grits, moving out of my way but following me through the house with Russell like prison guards.
Russell takes a seat at the head of the kitchen table, and Dustin sags in the chair I pull out for him. The girls are flipping over puzzle pieces, thankfully distracted so they don’t really notice it when I kiss each of their heads, murmuring a goodnight, then slip out the front door afterward, leaving a piece of my heart with each of them, the biggest piece laid at Birdie’s feet.
Layla takes her turn following me next, the silence suffocating as she escorts me to my Bronco parked a quarter mile down the road. When we get there, she surprises me by hopping into my passenger seat.
