Page 19 of Unhinged

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

brYDGETT

The air is crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine and asphalt as Judge and I walk down Main Street.

The distant hum of engines and chatter from small clusters of people fills the gaps between our footsteps.

Judge's fingers curl around mine, small and warm, steadying the whirlwind in my head.

We've been holed up at Ike's for a few days now, and I can tell Judge's patience is wearing thin.

He needs this trip. I need this trip. Just a quick stop for ice cream and a few groceries. Nothing more.

The town has never felt like home. I know better than to let it. A few locals know my face from the gym or through Ike, but they don't know me . Not really. They smile and wave, but no one pries. That's how I like it.

The bell above the door jingles as we step into Frosty Blossom Creamery. The pastel walls are splashed with cheerful murals of cartoon cows and oversized cones. Judge’s face lights up as he presses his palms against the glass display case, peering at the vibrant mounds of ice cream.

"Bubblegum," he declares with a grin, pointing to the electric pink swirl. "Two scoops in a cone."

I smile at him, ruffling his dark hair. "You sure you don't want a cup? That stuff melts fast."

"Cone," he insists.

I turn to the girl behind the counter. "I'll have a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup Mixup, extra Reese's."

She nods, and I guide Judge to a corner booth. The vinyl is cracked along the edges, and the cushions have that faint sugary scent unique to ice cream shops. Judge bounces in his seat, fingers drumming on the table.

"How long are we staying here, Mom?" he asks.

I lean back, exhaling slowly. "I don't know, baby. Did you wanna go somewhere?"

"Back home," he says without hesitation. "I miss Georgia.”

My stomach twists. I rub my face with both hands, dragging them down my cheeks. "Judge..."

"Bubblegum cone and Reese's mixup!" the girl calls, saving me from finding an explanation that doesn't feel like a lie.

"Be right back," I mutter, slipping from the booth to grab our order. The cold cup sweats against my palm as I return to our table.

"Here ya go." I hand the bubblegum cone to Judge and take a deliberate bite of my own ice cream. The peanut butter hits my tongue in a wave of creamy richness, the chocolate sharp and sweet. For a moment, I let myself sink into it, eyes closing as I savor the familiar comfort.

"We can go home, Mom," Judge says quietly. "You found your bonds. That's good."

"Judge, they kidnapped us."

"They didn't know what you were then. They were looking for... you know." He runs his thumb along his throat in a slicing motion, his grin lopsided. "I'd knock you out too if I thought you could... you know."

I shake my head. "It's not that simple, baby. I don't trust alphas."

"What if I'm one?" he counters.

I set my spoon down. "I'll love you no matter what, but I know you . I don't know them."

"Then we should go back so you can get to know them."

"You're too damn smart for your own good, you know that?"

"So... we're going back?"

"No."

His face falls, and we finish our ice cream in tense silence. The warmth from our earlier conversation feels distant, replaced by the cool ache of disappointment clinging to the air.

Outside, the breeze is sharper, carrying the crisp scent of fallen leaves and distant woodsmoke.

The air feels heavier, charged with something I can’t quite name, and a chill creeps up my spine.

I guide Judge toward our rusty sedan, parked crookedly at the curb.

The GTO flashes through my mind—sleek, powerful, mine .

God, I miss that car. This one rattles when it idles, and the air conditioning has a mind of its own, but it gets us from point A to point B. That's what matters.

I climb in and start the engine when the hair on the back of my neck rises.

Something's wrong.

I scan the street, trying to pinpoint the source of the sudden unease. Then I see him.

A man steps out of the post office across the street, adjusting his tie as he looks around.

Earl.

But he's not alone. There's another man with him, someone I don't recognize, standing just a bit too close, his posture stiff like he's expecting trouble.

My breath lodges in my throat, and my pulse skitters like a trapped moth. Memories of nine years ago claw their way to the surface—his hand clamped over my mouth, the weight of him crushing me, the unbearable helplessness. He shouldn't be here. He can't be here.

"Change of plans, Judge," I say. "Let's head back to Ike's. Maybe Jackie will want to order pizza and play some board games."

"She owes me a round of Guess Who !" he chirps, his mood instantly lifting.

"Sounds fun." I force a smile that doesn't quite reach my eyes.

"I think I dropped my phone under the seat," I say quickly. "Can you check for me?"

"Sure!" He eagerly ducks down, fingers fumbling beneath the seat.

I take that moment to pull away from the curb, keeping Earl in my peripheral vision. He strolls down the sidewalk, hands in his pockets like he's just another guy running errands. My gut tells me otherwise.

"It's not down here," Judge says, lifting his head.

"Oh, silly me! It's right here." I hold up my phone with a grin that tastes like ash.

Judge laughs. "You're a mess, Mom."

I chuckle, but my knuckles are bloodless against the steering wheel. Earl's face is burned into my mind—that smug grin, the cold glint in his eyes. I don’t know how he found us, but one thing's certain: he isn’t here for small talk.

The drive back to Ike’s feels like a race against time. My fingers grip the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles ache, and my eyes flick to the rearview mirror every few seconds. There’s no sign of Earl, but my heart refuses to slow down.

As soon as I pull into the driveway, Judge jumps out before the engine is fully off, his little legs pumping as he dashes toward the front door.

His laughter rings out as Jackie opens it, her smile bright and warm as she steps aside to let him in.

For a second, I let out a shaky breath, but then instinct kicks back in, and I whip around in my seat, nearly giving myself whiplash in the process.

No one followed us. No one saw us leave.

Still, I can’t shake the feeling crawling up my spine. Earl didn’t see us—there’s no way—but I have to be sure.

We have to go.

My hands tremble as I pull my phone from my pocket and type out a message to Ike.

Me: Earl is in town. Took Judge for ice cream, and he was coming out of the post office.

The response comes fast.

Ike: You're sure it was him?

Me: I'd never forget his face. It's him. He found us. But how?

Ike: I'll be home soon. Don't panic, Brydge. We'll handle it.

Don't panic?

How am I supposed to stay calm when the man who ripped my life apart is in town? The man who hurt me. The man who doesn’t know he fathered a child the same night he almost ended me.

If Earl knew about Judge, he’d take him. I know he would. He’d twist him into someone cold and cruel, someone molded in his image. I won’t let that happen.

But what’s worse—why is he here now? After nine years? Surely he doesn’t want me . He never wanted me; I was just something he could overpower.

But I know his secret. Not just know it—I am his secret. His victim. His witness. A man doesn’t leave loose ends like that hanging around.

I force my legs to carry me inside.

Judge and Jackie are sprawled on the floor, setting up Guess Who . Their laughter rises and falls as they flip down characters and throw out guesses. I try to let their joy settle my nerves, but my mind keeps spinning.

The front door bangs open, and Ike storms inside, his boots scuffing hard against the floor. His face is like thunder — jaw clenched, eyes blazing, shoulders tight enough to snap. I don’t have to ask. He found something else out. He knows more.

“Kitchen. Now.” Ike barks.

Judge’s head pops up, his face scrunching in concern. I force a casual shrug. “No idea what that’s about,” I lie, flashing him a small smile.

“Judge, honey, does your person have a mustache?” Jackie asks, cheerful but a little too bright—she’s helping by keeping him calm and distracted.

I mouth thank you to her, and she gives me a small nod before focusing back on the game.

In the kitchen, Ike leans on the counter, arms crossed tightly across his chest. The look on his face makes my stomach drop.

“What’s up?” I ask. “Did you see him? You’ve seen his picture.”

“I didn’t,” Ike says, his face grim. “But I asked around at the gym. Showed his picture to a few of the guys.”

“And?”

He sighs, shoulders sagging. “I’m sorry, kid.”

My throat tightens. “Sorry for what? What is happening, Ike? Don’t do this to me. Why is he here? How did he know to come here?”

Ike scrubs a hand down his face, like he’s trying to figure out how to soften the blow.

“One of my fighters knows him. Apparently... well... Eric and Tina are distant cousins. Tina was talking about you, showed a picture, and Eric recognized you. When he heard you were here visiting, he called her.”

Ike’s gaze flicks toward the living room like he's already regretting telling me.

“What else, Ike?” I murmur. “You’re not telling me everything.”

Ike swallows hard. “Eric told him you have a son.”

It’s like someone’s doused me in ice water. The room spins, and I grip the counter to stay upright. My pulse pounds in my ears.

“I’m so sorry, kid.”

“It’s not your fault,” I rasp, each breath burning in my chest. “But we need to go. Now. ”

“You do,” Ike agrees. “Go grab what you can and get out. I’ll handle things if he shows up here. And Eric...well, I’ll deal with him too. Promise.”

“Ike…” My voice cracks as I lean in and kiss his cheek. “Be safe.”

“You too,” he says, giving my arm a firm squeeze.

I bolt to my room, yanking open drawers and stuffing what I can into my duffel bag. My hands shake so badly that half the clothes fall to the floor. I don’t bother picking them up.

“Judge!” I shout. “We’re leaving, honey. Hurry up.”

“But Mom!”

“Don’t argue with your mom, boy,” Ike says firmly. “Just listen to her.”

“Yes, Grandpa,” Judge mutters, appearing in the doorway with his Ghostface plush tucked under his arm. He grabs his backpack and hurriedly shoves his clothes inside.

“Okay,” I say, breathing hard as I zip my bag. “Let’s go, baby.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know yet,” I admit. “But we just... we just gotta go, okay?”

“Okay,” he whispers.

I take his hand in mine, holding it tight as we head for the door. My heart pounds, but there’s no time to calm down.

We just have to get away.