Page 20 of Make Me Trust Again (Bluebonnet Creek #3)

CHAPTER TWELVE

ROSE

“He’s been getting so much better,” Dr. Lerry says.

My glance darts to the corner of the room where I can see Kyle play with a girl around his age, both of them signing.

“Do you really think so?” I ask, reluctantly shifting my gaze to the woman.

She’s in her late forties or early fifties. Her dark hair is pulled into a low ponytail, and metal frames are hiding the majority of her face, making her brown eyes seem even bigger somehow.

Dr. Lerry’s been Kyle’s speech therapist since the very beginning. She’s been with us through those hard early stages and dealt with some of Kyle’s tantrums and my insecurities, helping us both navigate this process.

The older woman places a hand on my shoulder, giving me a reassuring squeeze. “You’re doing an amazing job with him.”

I let out a soft chuckle. “If you ask Kyle, he’d tell me I’m bugging him with all the speaking nonsense.”

“Which is the reason why he’s made such outstanding progress in the last year. You know there is only one thing that will help, and that’s practice, practice, and more practice. One day he’ll be thankful for that.”

“I hope so.” I nod absentmindedly, my gaze darting to the kids.

Now there is a woman there with them, and all of them are talking about something.

Even from here, I can see the happiness radiating on his face.

“I worry about him. We don’t have anybody from the deaf community living close by, so he doesn’t really have a lot of chances to speak with people in sign, except with me.

And well, now one of his friends from school is learning ASL as well. ”

“That’s amazing, Rose. Having a community is important, but there is only so much you can do about that. Besides, what’s more important is for him to learn how to adapt to the world, be a normal kid, and make friends. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

Her words ease some of the worry that’s been nagging at me for months now, ever since he started school.

I want him to have access to a deaf community, make friends who are like him, but that is downright impossible in a town the size of Bluebonnet Creek.

Between our obligations, it’s not like we can often drive into town so he can play with some of the kids we’ve met in passing here in the hospital.

We chat for a little while longer before Dr. Lerry has to get back to work. I join Kyle, who’s still playing with the girl, the two of them signing occasionally, but then a nurse comes and calls them into one of the offices.

I give them a grateful smile, which the woman returns as she ushers her daughter to their appointment.

Ready to go?

Yeah, sure.

We make our way to the parking lot and into the car. Kyle jumps into the back seat, buckling in.

Can we stop for ice cream before going home?

The corner of my mouth twitches upward. When did we not stop for ice cream?

What started off as a bribe to get him here has now turned into our tradition. We’d go into the city, do the appointment, and then stop at the drive-thru to grab our ice cream on the way back home.

Kyle is quiet on the drive, his whole focus on the game he’s playing on the tablet. Usually, the appointments tire him, both mentally and physically, so he takes the drive back to rest and doesn’t communicate at all.

At first it worried me, but then I met a mom of a girl with a cochlear implant, and she told me that her daughter had a tendency to take off her processors when she needed some “time off” for her ears, and this was probably Kyle’s way of doing the same so I shouldn’t worry about it and just give him the time he needs.

After the quick stop to grab ice cream, we get on the road back home. Soft country music fills the cabin of my truck as I navigate the busy Austin streets, until they finally give in to the less crowded roads, and then we’re back home.

My gaze darts to the main house as I make my way down the gravel road toward the cottage, but the place seems still, and the backyard is empty.

Is he home? With Chase, you can never be sure.

I haven’t seen him since he stormed out of my kitchen the other day; then again, it’s not like I’ve seen him a lot prior to that.

Some days when I thought I saw glimpses of him, my heart would kick up a notch, but almost as quickly, he’d disappear.

Is he generally like that, or does he hide in his own home because we are here?

Am I looking too much into it? I’m not sure.

The truth is, I don’t know what to make of him.

I’m nobody’s savior.

I still can’t get his words out of my head. Erase the mix of anger and pain that I saw traces of before that mask fell in place.

I know I should let it go; I have too many of my own problems to deal with, but for some reason, I can’t stop thinking about it.

About him.

The truth is, I don’t know what to make of Chase Williams. The man is an enigma. Quiet and broody most of the time, but then a soft side of him emerges and throws me off kilter.

Like when he showed me how to change the tire, or when he told me we could move into the cottage. The way he looked over my son as he played with his dog, and the gentleness with which he cared for me when I was sick.

Enigma, indeed.

I shake my head, trying to clear my mind of the images playing in my brain as I pull the truck into the driveway and get out.

Kyle is already rushing in front of me. “I’m going to play!”

I open my mouth to call after him, but then I realize it’s useless, so I press my lips together and follow after him. I slip out of my shoes and drop my bag on the little table in the foyer before going to my room to change into comfier clothes and pulling my hair up into a messy bun.

Once I’m done, I go to the kitchen and look through the options we have stocked in the fridge.

I’d have to go to the store soon, but tonight we’ll have some spaghetti Bolognese since Kyle loves that.

I pull out everything I’ll need before grabbing the sweet tea and pouring myself a glass. Taking a sip, I get to work.

I’ve always loved cooking. There is something peaceful in the monotony of it—the cutting and slicing of the ingredients. If you follow a recipe, you’ll be rewarded with a good meal, and if you decide to play a bit, go out of bounds, you might even create something incredible.

The meat sauce is slowly sizzling on the stove, so I grab a different pot and fill it with water and drizzle some salt over it to cook the pasta, when there is a knock on the door.

I pause, the sound catching me completely off guard. Glancing toward the open back door, Kyle’s nowhere to be found, and everything is quiet.

Is he teasing me? It wouldn’t be the first time.

Because what would be the other option? There aren’t a lot of people who know I’ve moved here.

My parents, Savannah, and Becky, and… Chase.

That’s all. And since I know on Monday’s Mom has a bridge night with the ladies at the country club, and I’m pretty sure both Savannah and Becky have their hands full with their families at this hour, that only leaves one person.

Does he need something?

I can hardly imagine the man knocking on my door to ask for a cup of sugar. And considering the fact that he burned scrambled eggs—twice—I can’t even imagine him cooking for himself. He didn’t finally decide to come here and tell me we should find another place and soon, did he?

Wiping my hands on the towel, I bite the inside of my cheek as I go to the door and pull it open. My back goes still the moment my eyes meet the narrowed gaze on the other side. My fingers curl around the hardwood tightly as I hold it in place. “What are you doing here, John?”

His jaw clenches, fury blazing in his eyes. “When your mother said you won’t be joining us for dinner, I thought you were just avoiding me.” He takes a step forward, and my grip on the door tightens as he looms over me. “But imagine my surprise when she told me it’s because you’ve decided to move.”

Dammit, Mom.

I guess it was too much to hope this would stay a secret for a little while longer. Not that I want to keep it a secret, but I can’t deny that it felt nice not to have to worry about my ex showing up at my house whenever he pleased, causing trouble.

My tongue darts out, sliding over my lower lip. “I don’t see how my place of residence is any of your business.”

His curled fist slams against the door, making me flinch. “You’re my wife.”

My heart is thundering against my ribcage wildly at his angry tone, my mouth feeling dry. “ Ex- wife.”

“ Wife ,” he hisses in my face. “Until those papers are signed, you’re still my wife, Rose. Don’t you dare forget that.”

“You didn’t have an issue forgetting that little tidbit a few months ago,” I bite back.

Fury shines in John’s gaze, the muscle in his jaw twitching.

He’s standing so close I can smell a faint trace of alcohol on his breath.

Over the last year, John has become a master of drinking.

He knows just how to toe the line between getting buzzed to keep the edge off and drinking himself to the ground.

Until he can hit the bar after he’s done with work, that is.

Kyle’s giggling comes from inside, reminding me we’re not alone. I debate it for just a moment, but I decide to slip out on the front porch and close the door behind me. I don’t want Kyle to rush inside and see us fighting. “You really shouldn’t be here, Joh?—”

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?

” he interrupts before I can finish. His fingers curl around my forearm tightly as he pulls me to him.

I open my mouth to protest, but he’s quicker.

Something dark shines in his eyes, and my heart feels like it’s stuck in my throat.

“Is there something going on between you and the Williams asshole?”

“Wh-what?” I blink, unsure if I heard him correctly, but his face is serious, that anger only boiling hotter than before.

“Because I don’t see why he’d let you stay here otherwise. The guy’s been hiding away for years, not talking to anybody, and suddenly he lets you stay at his place? I think not. Are you fucking him, Rose? Is that it? You give him some pussy in exchange for free rent. A win-win for both of you.”

Each hateful word that comes out of his mouth is a blow, making the color rise up my neck.

“You’re crazy.” I shake my head, trying to pull my arm out of his grasp, but he doesn’t let go. His fingers are digging into my skin to the point of pain, and I’m sure it’ll leave bruises. “There is nothing going on between Chase and me. Let me go, you’re hurting me.”

Instead of releasing my arm, his fingers only dig deeper.

“I don’t believe you, Rose. I’m not going to let you do this to me.

I’ve already talked to my lawyer, and we’ll take everything from you.

Forget fifty-fifty custody, I’m taking my son from you.

Maybe if you stop babying him, he’ll learn how to act like a man. ”

An icy chill runs down my spine at his words, the dread settling in the pit of my stomach. He wants to take Kyle away from me? Hell to the no.

This time, I finally pull my wrist out of his grasp. My skin burns, and I can see the angry red marks he left on my flesh. Later, I know I’ll feel them, but right now, I’m too pissed to care.

I jab my finger into his chest. “You bring my son into this, and I’ll let everybody know exactly what happened.” There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to keep my son safe and happy. Even from his own father. “Don’t test me, John.”

His jaw clenches at my words, and I swear I can see the fumes coming out of his ears as his voice drops lower. He grabs my hand to stop me from jabbing my finger into his chest one more time. “Is that a threat?”

He stands taller, trying to scare me by looming over me, but I square my shoulders. I will not cower back. Not when my son’s future was on the line.

“No, that’s a promise. I’m trying to be nice, but if you threaten to take my son away from me, the son you’ve been pushing away since the day he was born, I’m done.”

Something flashes in John’s eyes, his molars grinding together. My stomach rolls uncomfortably, but I refuse to back down. I’m done playing his games. Done letting him push me around.

“Is there a problem?”

Although the question is spoken softly, there is no missing the underlying threat in it.

My heart kicks up a notch at the familiar voice. Slowly, I shift my gaze to the side, meeting Chase’s hazel eyes.

And he looks pissed.