Page 55 of London Inked Boys: The Complete Trilogy
“I’m not stupid, Mum! I’m not deaf either. I know when you’re fighting.”
“I’m just leaving, son,” Mike calls up to him. “See you next week, okay?”
The look on Dylan’s face just about breaks my heart. Tears shimmer in the boy’s eyes, and his lower lip pokes out. He has his arms wrapped tightly around his body, as though trying to protect himself against the violence of his parents’ words.
Mike goes to the door, but before he does, he hisses out of the corner of his mouth. “This isn’t over.”
I clamp my teeth together, my fists bunched, doing everything in my power to stop myself lashing out at him. How had I ever thought I had loved this man? There’s nothing in him that I see even slightly appealing now.
The door slams shut, and I’m left to plaster a smile on my face and try to act like normal for my son. I take a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm the way I’m shaking with anger. Hot tears burn the backs of my eyes, but the tears are from impotent fury more than sadness. I hate the way Mike will always have some input into my life, especially after all the times he cheated on me. It’s as though he can do whatever he wants, but he will always have some hold over me because of Dylan.
I want to call Kane and get him to come over—he’d be back from his convention by now—but that isn’t fair. This is between Mike and me, and I can’t drag Kane into the middle of things every time me and my ex have a fight. Mike might not be able to be civil to Kane, but I can’t unburden all of this onto Kane and expect him to stay out of it as well.
Instead, I do my best to act normal. I coax my son back downstairs, make him some hot chocolate, and get him to talk about what he did this weekend. Every mention of Mike is like needles to my skin, but I force myself to keep smiling. None of this is Dylan’s fault, and I can’t imagine what it must be like to be stuck in the middle.
I go through the normal Sunday night routine, sticking Dylan in the bath and washing his hair, and getting his uniform and bag ready for school the next day. I struggle to keep my mind off Mike’s threat, however. Would he really do that, and could Child Protective Services cause problems for me and Kane? Could they even take Dylan away and give Mike full custody? The thought terrifies me. I love that boy more than anything else in the world. Would I really be forced to choose between him and Kane? Of course there would be no contest—it would always be my son—but that doesn’t mean the choice won’t tear my heart into a million shreds.
Distracted, I manage to get Dylan to bed and then go back downstairs. I can’t settle, unable to concentrate enough to read abook or watch television. My hand hovers over my phone. I want to call Kane, but know I’ll probably end up crying if I do.
Eventually, I give up trying to occupy myself and climb the stairs to check on Dylan. Pushing the bedroom door open, I instantly know something isn’t quite right. I look for the usual lump beneath the covers, only it isn’t there, only a smooth duvet across the bed. Is he in the bathroom? I hadn’t heard any signs of him, no water running or toilet flushing.
“Dylan,” I call out, the first flutters of worry stirring inside me. There’s no answer. “Dylan!” I call again, louder now. “Dylan, where are you?”
Still no reply comes.
My worry quickly escalates to fear. I rush from room to room, throwing open doors looking for her son. “Dylan, if you’re hiding, this isn’t funny. Come out right now. You’re frightening Mummy.”
But the house is in silence. The atmosphere has changed. No longer do I sense the presence of another person, but instead feel distinctly alone. I clamp my hand to my mouth. Oh, God. Where is he? In my head, I calculate the last time I saw him. How long has it been? Twenty minutes? Half an hour? I thought he was tucked up comfortably in bed, but clearly he wasn’t. How had he got past me? Had he walked out the front door and I hadn’t even noticed? Or had he slipped out the back?
Filled with panic, I race to the back door. I stare wildly out into the night. It’s dark already—that dark pressing on me now like a living, threatening thing.
“Dylan!” I yell again, almost screaming his name. “Dylan, where the hell are you?” I don’t mean to curse, but my fear has taken hold. Where is he? Is he walking the streets alone or has the worst happened—a mother’s worst possible fear—and someone has taken him?
Oh, no. No, no, no.
I pull the back door shut and run for the front of the house. I throw open the door to the street and call my son’s name again. Still in my slippers, I run out into the road, frantically turning left to right, trying to figure out which way he might have gone.
My mind starts tripping over what I need to do next.
Shit. I left my phone in the house. I have to phone Mike. He will need to know. There’s a chance Dylan is trying to get back to his dad, or Mike might have even picked him up without telling me. Would he really do that? I don’t think even he’s capable of snatching my son out from under my nose, but after his threat about Kane, I have to wonder. Even so, my stomach sinks at the thought of contacting my ex-husband. I hate speaking to him at the best of times, but now knowing I’m going to have to tell him our son is missing fills me with dread. Will he use this against me as well? Making out like I’m a bad mother? I don’t want to call Mike, but I have to. If this was the other way around and Dylan had gone missing during his time at his dad’s, I would want to know right away.
With terror clutching my soul, I run back into the house. I snatch up my phone, swipe the screen, and press the phone to my ear.
“Holly?” My ex-husband’s voice comes through immediately, and I pick up on his concerned tone. We never call each other unless it has to do with Dylan.
I can barely speak, sobbing through my words. “It’s Dylan. He’s missing!”
“Missing? What do you mean missing?”
“Exactly what I just said. He was in bed last time I checked on him, and now he’s not there.”
“How long ago since you last saw him?”
“I don’t know. It must be at least half an hour now.”
“And you’re sure he’s not in the house?”
“He’s not, Mike. I’ve looked everywhere!”
