A small commotion sounded from nearby, and I turned to see a tall blonde woman come running up to us. She was followed closely by Jack and another woman, a short brunette. She stopped in front of us, hands going to her hips as she tried to catch her breath. Her beautiful grey eyes danced as she took me in.

“You’re here,” she breathed. “I can’t believe you came.”

I stared at her, taken aback, but I knew instantly that this had to be Lille. She confirmed my assumption when she threw her hand out and introduced herself. “I’m Lille, the one who wrote you the letter.”

Slowly, I reached forward and shook her hand, feeling shy and out of place. “I’m Alexis.”

She nodded, smiling, and replied loudly, “Yes, I know.” She was clearly excited.

“Quiet the fuck down,” a broody, scratchy voice demanded from nearby, and every hair on my body stood on end. His voice, so changed, yet so the same. I couldn’t help closing my eyes, blinking away another tear. I’d turned my back to him when I shook hands with Lille, and now I heard hard boots crunching on the ground. I turned back around as he neared. His blue eyes, once so bright and sparkling, were now dull and reddened.

I sucked in a breath.

He stopped in his tracks.

Time slowed down, the world became as small as a grain of sand, as we stared at one another. It was a moment I’d never forget. The bottle he’d been clutching like a life raft fell from his grip. The harsh sound of glass shattering shot through me, making this all so real. King didn’t even notice he’d dropped the bottle. He reached up, rubbing at his eyes to the point that it looked painful.

“Stop it, stop it, stop showing me. I don’t want to see her anymore. No more.”

He was hurting himself, and I couldn’t watch. I stepped forward, my voice lighter than air. “Oliver,” I whispered. I stood mere inches away, the smell of him hitting me. He stank of booze and dirt. My heart cracked in two. It was a physical pain to see him like this.

“No!” he screamed, hands flying out and pushing at me. I stumbled backwards but managed to find my feet before I fell. Grumpy Jack strode forward, his size formidable, and gripped King by the shoulders. “Calm down, friend, calm down.” His words seemed to soothe something in King, whose body slumped forward. Jack’s eyes wandered to his girlfriend, who stood frozen in place.

“I told you, I fucking told you, Lille.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think….”

“That’s just it, you didn’t think at all,” Jack fumed, eyes now flashing accusingly at his brother. “Neither one of you did.” There was something in the way he spoke that made me feel like this was personal to him, like he was truly angered that Jay and Lille had brought me here to King, who clearly wasn’t in a fit state to see me. Again, my tears came. I felt like my heart, my very soul, was being torn in two. I didn’t want him to be like this. I just wanted the old King back.

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.