Page 113 of Stolen Dreams
We may have a lot of stress and hurt to work through in the coming months, but at least we have each other to lean on. So long as we stick together, everything else will work out.
Ray presses a kiss to Tucker’s temple, then turns and kisses my cheek. “Let’s go home.”
Except for taking a quick shower and changing his clothes, Tucker hasn’t left Ray’s arms. He asked Ray to stay in the room as he did both. Can’t say I blame him.
Well past Tucker’s bedtime, we sit on the couch with the television on, the volume almost inaudible. On Ray’s lap, Tucker rests his head on his dad’s shoulder. Ray offered to make something to eat when we walked in. But none of us has an appetite.
“Is my mom okay?” Tucker asks for the second time.
Ray takes a deep breath and shifts Tucker so he can look him in the eye. “I’m not sure, bud. She was really hurt when the ambulance took her to the hospital.”
A deep groove forms between Tucker’s brows. “Is she in trouble?”
With a nod, Ray answers truthfully, “Yeah, bud. Your mom did some bad things.” What he doesn’t say is if she lives to see tomorrow, Brianna will spend a long time behind bars. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”
Tucker ducks his chin and shrugs.
I lay a hand on his pajama-covered shin. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it, Tucker. What happened was scary for all of us.” I gently stroke the side of his leg with my thumb. “Sometimes it helps to tell someone what you remember and how it made you feel. Sharing doesn’t make it go away.” I bring my hand to his hair and run my fingers through the soft curls. “But each time we talk about it, it hurts a little less.”
Tucker’s lips twist as he mulls over my words. “Can I tell my fire truck?”
In my periphery, confusion lines Ray’s forehead.
“Of course,” I assure him. “You can tell your fire truck whatever you want. Always.”
Tucker’s shoulders relax a little.
“But you need to talk with your dad, and maybe other grown-ups, about what happened today.”
Tucker stiffens, and Ray hugs him closer.
“He’s been through enough today,” Ray says, voice low and edgy. “Don’t pressure him.”
Releasing Tucker’s curls, I ease back and add a little space between me and Ray. He means well. Deep down, I know he does, but encouraging Tucker to suppress how today made him feel will blow up in his face later. Like his former experiences with his mother, what happened today will stay with him a long time. Better to let some of it out now than have him screaming in the middle of the night.
And didn’t he just ask Tucker if he wanted to talk about it? Not that I’ll point it out. Now isn’t the time to highlight his hypocritical behavior.
Maybe I should go home. Give them time alone together. But as the thought crosses my mind, I can’t find the strength to get off the couch, grab my shoes, and call someone for a ride. So, Imove farther down the couch. Back off and put some distance between me and them.
“Don’t leave, Miss Kaya.” The shaky plea in Tucker’s voice tugs at my heartstrings.
A half-hearted smile curves my lips as I give an imperceptible shake of my head. “I won’t leave if that’s what you want.”
“I want you to stay.” Tucker rests his head back on Ray’s shoulder and stares across the room. “Mom was acting weird.”
Ray freezes for three heartbeats, then takes a slow, deep breath. His mouth opens then closes a few times before he rolls his lips between his teeth. When he opens his mouth again, he doesn’t get the chance to speak.
Tucker elaborates on how Brianna was behaving as he stares at Ray’s shirt. He talks about the man and how he was in a bathroom stall at the bowling alley. How the man said he knew Tucker because he was friends with his mom. That his mom and dad were outside talking, and he was supposed to bring Tucker to them. Tucker says he wasn’t scared until he didn’t see Ray with Brianna and she made him get in the van.
Until he reaches the end of his side of the story, Tucker spills his heart. As each truth comes out, Ray hugs him closer to his chest. The more they embrace, the more I feel like an interloper.
Turning my head off to the side, I look anywhere but at them.
I should leave.
When Tucker finishes talking, I scoot to the edge of the couch, fist the cushion for a breath, then rise from my seat. I keep my eyes ahead and move around the couch. My stomach twists more with each step, but I continue forward.
“Where are you going?”