Page 101 of The Voices are Back

“Does that mean you’re not coming down for the rest of the day?” He snorted. “It’s the weekend.”

Meaning, since he didn’t have to go to school tomorrow, there was no way in hell that I would get him in bed at a normal time. I was such a bad dad sometimes.

“No, I won’t be staying up there all day,” I paused. “But remember you have a soccer game at one tomorrow. You need to at least be somewhat awake for that.”

“True,” he paused. “I’ll think about it.”

Then he went back to playing.

Bowie’s and my relationship had progressed over the last six months since he’d decided to give spending time with me a chance.

I patted him on the head, then placed a chocolate milk—my chocolate milk—on the coffee table. “I’ll put some donuts on a plate for you in the kitchen.”

He grinned, but didn’t look away from the screen. “Thanks, Dad.”

Thanks, Dad.

Two simple words had enough weight to put a spring in my step as I mounted the stairs, completely forgetting to put some donuts onto a plate for him.

He likely wouldn’t notice for a while anyway.

I carefully turned the knob to the bedroom door, and swung the door open just barely, in case she was actually asleep and not doing payroll like she’d said.

My eyes hit the bed, and I frowned, because I didn’t see her.

I pushed farther into the room and came to a sudden stop when my eyes landed on the floor beside the bed.

My heart all but leaped out of my chest when I saw her on the ground, in a pool of her own blood, staring at me.

Her eyes were terrified, and the relief in them when she saw me sent my stomach damn near to the floor.

I skidded to a stop next to her, unsure how I’d gotten from the door to her in the amount of time it took me to blink.

“Baby,” I said, bending down and cradling her head. “What happened?”

Had she fallen? Hit her head? Was she okay?

“H-hurts,” she whispered. “M-my m-mom c-came in through the w-window.”

I looked over at the window to see it ajar.

That was when I realized that not only had she lain on the floor for a while, but she’d also been freezing her ass off.

“Your mom?” I asked, my voice rising an octave.

“Y-yes.” She swallowed hard. “My mom.”

I was already shaking my head.

I’d only met her mom a handful of times, and each of those times I’d seen the broken woman that she was. I hadn’t thought that she was capable of this, though.

“What happened?” I asked, pulling out my phone.

She stopped me with a hand on mine.

“I’m okay,” she promised. “The blood is from her fingernails in my neck. And I passed out. But I’m okay. I’m just coming back online.”

I gathered her up to me, my heart all but tearing in half.

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