I didn’t hesitate to obey, but the words echoed through my head the rest of the day.
“You are not alone in this.”
Nathan was waiting for me at the gates to the school when I pulled up.
And he was not alone.
I’d gone in with him this morning, first to make sure that they never released him to Robert again, and I’d been in the middle of politely telling them how important this was to his teacher, Hannah, when her eyes widened and the skin on the back of my neck prickled.
The moms around us were all slack-jawed.
So Lance had decided to follow us into the school.
And he had not been as polite to Nathan’s teacher.
But I didn’t even think she noticed.
I definitely noticed when he demanded to be put on the pick-up list.
My eyes widened at the same time as Hannah.
I didn’t even have time to argue him on it, Hannah was already nodding and looking between us, likely trying to figure out the connection. Because no way could this guy be my boyfriend, I knew what it looked to the outsider.
And there were a lot of outsiders watching, making assumptions, judgments.
Frankly, I didn’t care. I cared that my son was being taken care of. Plus, I was a single mother who was dressed either in a diner uniform or a boho getup that erred on the side of slutty when I picked Nathan up. Judgment was part in parcel of my day.
I had worried for the rest of the day at work, because that was a mother’s job, but I didn’t freak out, because I knew Lance was there.
It wasn’t healthy, that feeling, I couldn’t welcome it, invite it to stay. Because Lance was temporary, as was the protection. And I worried about that more for Nathan’s sake than my own. I didn’t date because I didn’t want to bring men in and out of his life, I didn’t need him having all sorts of issues with abandonment and father figures.
He had Logan and Bobby, both of whom were solid. Both of whom adored Nathan.
He worshipped them, of course. But it was different, the way he looked at Lance—he was his superhero. And he was going to have to say goodbye to him at some point.
I pulled up at school with Lance standing right beside Nathan at the curb, my son’s little hand in his larger one. Nathan’s head was craned up as he babbled on about who knew what.
“Keep it together, Elena,” I whispered to myself as I pulled up, pretending not to notice every single mom on pickup duty needlessly exit their cars in order to gaze at Lance.
None of them tried to talk to him, though. They weren’t that brave. He pretty much had a giant ‘fuck off’ painted on his forehead, despite the fact he was holding hands with my little boy. It took an extreme amount of badass to hold hands with a five-year-old, with what looked like a gentle and natural grip, at the same time as letting everyone else around you know you could kill a man with those same hands.
Given my history, that should’ve given me pause.
Like a lot of it.
It certainly shouldn’t have had a warmth settling in the bottom of my stomach and a straight-up heat even lower.
“You’re at a frickin’ elementary school, Elena,” I hissed under my breath as I put the car into park.
I left the keys in my car and got out.
“Mom!” Nathan screamed, running to me and jumping into my arms. I caught him, exhaling properly for the first time today. Nathan hadn’t reacted like this to me picking him up in months, not since he’d gotten adjusted to school. Since then, he’d been more likely to be sprinting away from me with a grin on his face, excited to see his teachers, his friends and to learn—the little nerd.
My little boy was strong, but he was not completely unaffected by what happened. That simple fact speared agony through all of my nerve endings and fury into my blood. I hadn’t even felt such an anger when Robert used me as his punching bag. But even a scratch on Nathan, emotional or physical, was enough to strip me down to my baser instincts. I squeezed him extra hard before letting him go.
“Captain came to meet me outside of class,” he said, grinning while I smoothed his hair. It was a constant battle, thick and shiny like mine and always messy. It would have been easier to shave it close-cropped to his head, but I didn’t have the heart.
“I see that, bud,” I said, doing my level best not to glance upward at the man whose shadow blocked out the frickin’ sun.
“Are we going back to your work?” Nathan asked.
I straightened. “Yeah, but Momma isn’t working. Pop and Esther just want to see you and Bobby has some leftover pie that was gonna go in the garbage…”