Now I wasn’t sure if that was even possible. Then, all of a sudden, the anger hit me. How could he let himself become like this? How could he leave me for all these years and never once try to make contact? There had to be a reason, but I just wasn’t seeing it. Perhaps it was the tears filling my eyes that caused my blindness.

Jack led King away, and I stared after my love, a lump in my throat and a brick in my stomach. Nothing about this was okay.

Nothing.

Seventeen

I cried all the way home, thankful it was dark and no other drivers could see me wailing like a crazy person in the front seat. After Jack had taken King away, I’d spoken with Lille and Jay for a while, and the brunette, Matilda, who turned out to be Jay’s wife. They were all so kind and apologetic, pleading with me to come back in a day or so. They promised they’d do their best to clean King up, get him sober. I nodded vacantly, but all the while the image of him in his current state branded itself into my mind. I didn’t know how to feel. Should I be angry? Sad? Happy to have him back even if he wasn’t the same?

I thought it might be wise to give him space for a while, but I knew it was going to be impossible to stay away. I was already concocting plans, figuring out ways in which I might bring him back to his old self. Even though it had taken years, finding him had been the easy part. Healing him would be the greatest challenge I’d ever faced.

I decided not to tell anyone about our son yet, but I’d let King know that Elaine was alive as soon as I could. I thought that would ease his mind somewhat, give him hope. I also needed to tell him that he hadn’t been the one to kill Bruce. He needed to know.

When I arrived home, I sat in the car for a few minutes, trying to compose myself. It was pointless, though, because Karla was going to know something was up the second she saw me.

The house was quiet when I stepped inside and dropped my keys on the end table. The TV was on low, and Karla sat on the couch, scrolling through the messages on her phone.

“Hey,” I said quietly.

She turned to me and looked up, her eyes taking me in. “Hey, you’re back.”

“Yeah, how was he?”

“Well-behaved but chatty, as usual,” she told me with a soft smile that quickly faded. “Lexie, is everything okay?”

I couldn’t help it — I sniffled. She was up from her seat and taking me into her arms within seconds, holding me close. My words were tiny, barely audible, when I whispered, “I found him.”

Karla sucked in a shocked breath and pulled back to look down at me. Several emotions crossed her face, mostly surprise. “King? You found King?”

I nodded.

“Where is he?”

“Not far, but Karla, he’s changed, so changed. I’m not even sure if….” My voice broke and was replaced with sobs. Karla pulled me close again.

“Hey, hey, it’s all right. You’ll get through this, you have me. I’ll do everything I can to help.”

Her words soothed me a little, and even though I’d been there for her through some really tough times over the past few years, I felt embarrassed that I was crying. After a minute I pulled away and went to grab a tissue to dry my face.

“Can you take Oliver again tomorrow?”

Karla nodded. “Of course. Anything you need.”

A few minutes later she left, and I climbed the stairs for bed, knowing I probably wouldn’t sleep a wink. I ducked my head inside Oliver’s room and found him sleeping soundly, his light breathing filling the space. I loved him just as much as I loved his father, but I’d only managed to keep one of them safe.

The thought almost broke me.

Closing the door over gently, I went to my own room and crawled into bed. I closed my eyes, but, as predicted, sleep never came. I finally drifted off after hours of racing thoughts, and was woken up the next morning by my son poking at me.

“I’m hungry,” he complained. I’m not sure why, but there was just something about his cranky, entitled little face that made me laugh amid all the sadness. I sat up and pulled him to me, pressing a soft kiss to his head and cuddling him close. He giggled, and I lifted him up with me, tickling him under the arms and making him wriggle like crazy.

“Stop it!” he yelped in glee. His words instantly sobered me, and I set him down on the floor. They echoed what King had said last night, when he’d thought I was some spectre concocted by his mind just to torture him. Remembering, I led Oliver downstairs and began absentmindedly pulling out pots and pans to make breakfast. I let him help me put the bread in the toaster. He loved to help. Then he sat and watched as I cracked some eggs, stirred them up, and poured them into the pan to make an omelette.

“Are you sad again, Mummy?” he asked.

I wasn’t sure if he was particularly tuned in to people’s emotions, or if he was just good at reading me because we spent so much time together, but he always seemed to sense how I was feeling. I mustered a smile for him.

“No, I’m not sad, baby, just tired.”

“After breakfast we can bring all our blankets downstairs and watch The Lego Movie,” he suggested, like it was a sure fire way to cheer me up.

“I have to go somewhere today,” I told him regretfully. “But your Aunt Karla is coming again to mind you. Maybe she’ll want to watch it.”

He scrunched up his nose. “But she always sings the song. I like Aunt Karla, but I don’t like it when she sings the song.”

His response surprised a laugh out of me, because it was true — Karla didn’t have a note in her head.