Conflicted (The Existing Series Book 2) (9 page)

“How do you plan to support the child on your own?”

“Currently, I’m the lead mechanic at my place of employment. However, I’m in the process of opening my own business which will be closer to home. I can have my own hours and be home when Grace needs me the most instead of spending that time driving home. I’ve already got a care plan in place for when I’m at work. I’ve applied for Grace to attend a preschool next year so that she gets the interaction she needs with other children in a classroom setting,” I replied, feeling really proud that I’d done all of this on my own since she had left.

“I have a big decision to make. We’re going to take a thirty-minute recess, and I’ll be back with my decision,” he replied, then quickly exited the courtroom.

My head reeled with the uncertainty and the unknown of Mackenzie’s situation. I had to find out the problem. What caused her to leave. Without knowing, I couldn’t justify this decision, but I also couldn’t stop it. I had to know what to tell Grace when she was old enough to understand why her mom left.

I stood up and walked over to her side of the courtroom, clearing my throat to gain her attention.

She looked up at me, dark circles loomed underneath her eyes indicating how little she’d slept.

“I need to know why, Mackenzie. I need to know what would make you leave before I leave here today,” I explained even though all I wanted to do was yell and shake her until she revealed the secret she’d been keeping before she left.

She shook her head and closed her eyes, refusing to answer. Who does that? A selfish person that’s who.

“Your daughter deserves to know when she’s older,” I gritted through my teeth, hoping that would give her the push to start talking.

“All will be explained in due time, Weston. That’s all I can say for now,” she whispered.

“You could tell me if you wanted to. But you’re selfish. You’re being…” I cut myself off before I finished that statement. I was just about to say something I couldn’t take back. Something hateful. And that wasn’t me. Regardless of the circumstances, I’d never use those tactics to get what I wanted. No matter how much they were deserved.

“For once in my life, I’m being anything but selfish. You’ll understand one day, Weston. One day you’ll see that I did what was best for everyone involved. No matter how much no one else gets my reasoning, I do, and I don’t see any other choice but to walk away,” she said, still not lifting her head or opening her eyes to face me.

I refused to cause a scene. Refused to give in to my anger. Instead, I turned and walked back to my side of the room. If this was what she honestly wanted, she’d get it. Tenfold. My daughter was all that mattered.

The judge came back into the room minutes later and my anger had yet to subside. It only grew with each passing second. I needed that punching bag. Sooner rather than later.

“All rise,” the bailiff stated. We all complied and were told to be seated after the judge sat down.

“I didn’t come to this decision lightly. If there were any other extenuating circumstances, I’d have decided differently. Grace Corbin was my only concern, as it should be. No child deserves to be parentless regardless of the reasoning behind leaving. While I do understand the reason that Ms. Campbell provided, I don’t agree with it. But that’s neither here nor there. Mr. Corbin has provided sufficient information regarding the welfare of the child. He’s shown that he’s a responsible, loving parent, which made this decision all too clear for me. I’ve decided to award sole custody to Mr. Corbin and relinquish the parental rights of Ms. Campbell effective immediately,” the judge responded, hitting the gavel against the bench to end the hearing.

My emotions were all over the place. While I was happy that this chapter of my life was over, sadness loomed in the background for what Grace had lost. What we’d both lost.

I looked over to Mackenzie one last time as I stood, shook my head, and walked away. No more words needed to be spoken. She could have kept the reasoning to herself. We didn’t need it. Not really. We were moving on just fine without her and we’d continue to do so. When Grace was old enough, if she wanted to, I’d let her seek her mother out and ask her why. I’d be both mother and father until my last dying day on earth.

I got all the way to my truck before the finality of our situation hit me full force, almost knocking me to my knees. Who was I kidding? I cared. Way too much. More than I cared to admit. But that didn’t matter. My feelings didn’t matter.

I unlocked the truck with the key fob and hopped inside. One destination on my mind. My parents’ house. I had a bright-eyed, brown-haired beauty waiting on me. With cookies. And I couldn’t wait to wrap my arms around her and hear her laugh. The only medicine I’d ever need to cure any ailment I had. That and the punching bag that waited for me each evening.

T
his morning
I woke up filled with anger. I had to get the feelings out before everyone else woke up or I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to contain them and lash out at an unintended target. So I grabbed my sweats and went in search of the one solace that I’d found helped keep the anger at bay.

The punching bag in the basement.

It was worn and tethered from years of abuse, but it still held strong and withstood my heated sessions. I’d need a new one soon, but for now this worked just fine.

I put on the gloves, and as I stood in front of the bag ready to take that first hit, I pictured all of the reasons for the feelings that had welled up inside of me.

My pride was the reason I couldn’t admit them out loud.

I didn’t want to have to face that I missed her.

My arm moved on its own accord and my fist connected with the bag for the first time of the day. Immediately, I felt a tiny sliver of hatred wither away.

I didn’t want to have to acknowledge that part of me still loved her.

My fist connected to the side of the bag with all my might at that admission alone.

The bag swayed back and forth and when it came back at me I swung again, immediately connecting with my target. The bag kept swaying, but I was nowhere near done.

The fact that Grace no longer had a mother in her life.

That thought alone revved up my anger tenfold, and I kept hitting the bag over and over again until my arms hurt. I couldn’t imagine not having my little pumpkin in my life. Let alone just walk away from her without the possibility of ever seeing her again.

I didn’t know how I’d stop hitting the bag today, but until my arms felt as if they couldn’t move I’d continue. Seeing as it’s the only way I didn’t go off on someone.

I was enjoying a little peace and quiet in the basement after my morning punching bag session. Sweat poured down my forehead and my chest, but I welcomed it all. The burn in my arms and stomach were more of a focus than the anger that festered inside of me on a daily basis. I picked up the towel that I’d brought down with me and wiped the sweat from getting into my eyes. I threw the towel down on the table and picked up the water bottle beside it, squeezing the cold liquid down the back of my throat. Checking my phone, I noticed I’d been in the basement for an hour. I came down here at six this morning, hoping to get in enough time before Grace woke up.

I gathered my things and headed to my room so I could grab some clothes before I showered. Hopefully, Grace stayed asleep long enough. I didn’t want my mom and dad to do more than they needed to.

The walk to my room took more time than necessary only because I had to avoid the creaking floor boards to keep Grace from rousing. I grabbed a pair of running shorts, boxers, and a white t-shirt and headed to the bathroom. I stopped when I got to the door and listened. Grace’s room was right down the hall and I didn’t hear a peep coming from her room so I went inside to shower.

All too soon the shower was over, not relaxing my tense muscles, but I welcomed the pain. The pain meant I was feeling something other than the fury that festered beneath the happy façade. I hurriedly threw on my clothes and wiped the fog from the mirror.

The man staring back at me looked unfamiliar. My eyes didn’t shine as bright. They had worry written all across them. I hadn’t shaved in a few days, which wasn’t like me, but I didn’t see the point right now. I knew I needed to talk to someone, but I couldn’t make myself make that appointment. I went back to my room and flopped down on the bed to wait for my pumpkin to wake up. The peace and quiet was much needed right now.

Grace was adjusting. She still had her moments, but they were few and far in between now. In the beginning though, it was a battle and a struggle for all of us. My heart broke when she’d go to the door and sit there.

Waiting.

With her blanket and bear.

Her head up against the door.

Every now and then she’d hiccup, but she wouldn’t move from the spot until she was ready.

Most days when that happened, she didn’t move until she’d cried herself to sleep for her afternoon nap. Anytime my mom or dad tried to move her she’d kick and scream, so they just left her there until she was ready to go.

I hated hearing my mom tell me about how Grace struggled when I had to leave, but I had to work to provide for us. Sometimes being an adult sucked.

The second I arrived back to my parents’ house, she’d be the Grace we all knew and loved again. I’d even called throughout the day to talk to her, but that made it worse because she’d scream for me to come home.

The good news was that in a few short weeks, we’d move into our own space. A three-bedroom rancher opened up for rent not far from my parents’. It needed a little tender loving care, but the projects were welcomed. I could work on the house when Grace was asleep to keep my mind occupied.

The anger that I felt for Mackenzie hadn’t dwindled. If anything, it was smoldering, waiting for that one tiny spark before it ignited and blew up. I tried and tried to just put it behind me, but every time Grace cried for her it made the anger push to the forefront.

Slowly, I became more enraged. My boxing matches with the punching bag occurred twice a day now instead of one. The only outlet that was safe for me to express the anger outwardly. There was no way in hell I was taking out this pain and infuriation out on anyone that didn’t deserve it. Only time would make it dissipate.

The only problem was that until Grace all but forgot about her mom, that anger wouldn’t go anywhere anytime soon.

My phone ringing brought me out of the pity party I was having for myself. I reached onto the nightstand as quickly as I could before she woke up and that wouldn’t be good.

Only I heard footsteps coming down the hall. I hadn’t heard her, but one of my parents’ must’ve and took her out of her crib.

Too late.

Grace barreled around the corner on a mission.

“I talk, Daddy,” she screamed, as she pushed my door open that I apparently hadn’t shut all the way.

Only once I checked the screen, it wasn’t someone she necessarily knew. My friend Davis from high school was calling me. He’d called a few times since I’d been back and we’d had a couple of beers, but nothing like we used to.

He stayed here and I left. We grew apart like most friends do from high school when one leaves for college. But we were trying to get things back on track.

“It’s Daddy’s friend, Davis, pumpkin. You can’t talk this time,” I told her, knowing this was going to lead to a fight.

Only she stood there looking at me like I was an alien. No wasn’t something she heard often, unless she was in trouble.

In typical Grace fashion, she walked up to me with her hand held out and tapped her foot like she just wasn’t going to accept no for an answer. For an almost three-year-old, she was too smart for her own good.

“Not this time, pumpkin. Go find Pop-Pop and tell him to call one of your uncles so you can talk,” I suggested, hoping this idea would wean her away from wanting this particular phone.

She cocked her head to the side and pondered the thought for a second, then she clapped her hands and took off on her next mission. That should keep her occupied for all of five minutes so I could see what he wanted.

“Hey, man. How’s it going?” I answered surprisingly before he hung up.

“It’s going. You know how it is. Listen, there’s a bonfire tonight. You think you could come out and hang with all of us? Quinn’s home and he’s actually got a girlfriend,” he joked. Me, Davis, and Quinn were thick as thieves all throughout school. Where one was, the rest followed. Now, not so much. Davis stayed here. I went off to Charlottesville. And good ‘ole Trenton Quinn went off and became a Marine. He hadn’t been home in about two years. He’d been in Afghanistan for nine months. The other time he was stationed in California. It would be hard to say no, but I hated asking my parents’ to watch Grace.

“Let me see if I can get my parents’ to watch Grace, and I’ll text you to let you know. I can’t make any promises, though,” I explained.

“I got it, bro. Just make sure you text me back this time. Your memory is for shit. Has anyone ever told you that?”

They had told me that. My parents’, Mackenzie, my brothers. All hated hearing I’d call them back because they knew full and well that it wouldn’t happen.

Hopping off the bed, I put my phone in my pocket and went off to find my baby girl. There was no telling what she’d conned my parents’ into letting her do this morning.

When I opened the door, I smelled the aroma of my mom’s French toast coming from the kitchen. Without wasting another second, I walked in the direction of the smell. As I rounded the corner, I stopped in my tracks. Grace was standing on a chair in front of the stove and my dad was the one who was actually cooking. He was talking to her in a soft tone and explaining to her how you had to wait until the toast cooked on each side before you flipped it. In turn, she kept grabbing for the spatula and pointing to the toast that was on the griddle. Laughter escaped my dad’s mouth and his shoulders shook from amusement at the eagerness of my daughter wanting to cook.

The sight of the two of them filled my heart with joy. I loved that Grace got to experience the same experiences that I had as a child. I loved that my parents’ would get to be a part of her life more often now that we didn’t live almost an hour away.

“What are you two getting into today?” I stated as I walked fully into the room, catching them off guard. Grace jumped a little, but my dad held on to her back so she wouldn’t fall out of the chair.

“Toast, Daddy,” she turned and said with a grin. Her head immediately turned back around to concentrate on the task at hand.

“Oh yeah,” I stated enthusiastically, her little head bobbed up and down to confirm. She was too busy trying to pay attention to the French toast to acknowledge me. Anything that made her happy made me happy.

I sat down at the table and stared at them, taking in the memories in the making. She was a little too young to remember, but I’d never forget. My dad used to help me cook too, and I was incredibly grateful that she got to experience it with him as well. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone to capture the moment. Both were facing the griddle, Grace leaned into my dad as he talked in hushed tones with one hand resting on her back to make sure she stayed safe as she stood in the chair. I silenced my phone so I wouldn’t alert them of being photoed and snapped a few pictures. I was admiring them when my phone suddenly vibrated in my hand, startling me.

I looked down and noticed Magdalena’s name on the screen. Since moving back here, we’d gotten together a few times with the kids and they became instant friends. Sliding my finger across the screen, I opened up the messaging app and smiled at her text.

Magdalena:
Hey, Wes. How are you and Grace today? Hope all is well over there since it’s pure chaos here. I have a terror on my hands that’s insisting on seeing Grace today. He even told me that he had to have a sleepover. So can Grace pretty please stay the night so he’ll stop driving me insane?

I couldn’t help but laugh at her message. I could only picture Liam constantly begging her until she caved in on texting me. Hell, I’m surprised she didn’t call and put him on the phone to try and play dirty. I took a few moments, only to make her sweat a little, and decided to put her out of her misery. I laughed as I typed out my reply.

Wes:
Hey, Magdalena. We’re all good here. Grace is becoming a chef as we speak. I’d say I’m sorry that he’s driving you insane, but that’d be a lie. LOL! If you insist, sure she can stay the night. But you have to promise that you’ll call if she cries. She hasn’t stayed away from me since we moved back home.

Sitting the phone down on the table so I’d hear it vibrate, I walked over to the counter and kissed the top of Grace’s head for no reason other than to show her she was loved. She needed the extra comfort lately, and I was always willing to show her so she didn’t feel the loss of her mother as much.

She turned around and put her two little hands on my chest and pushed back, harder than I expected her little two-year-old self to be able to. I laughed because this was something she would’ve done before her world was ripped apart.

“No, Daddy. I make you food. You sit,” she demanded as she put her hand on her hip.

I leaned my head back and took a big breath through my nose, trying my best not to laugh. I was in for hell come her teenage years if she was this dramatic at two.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said and put my hands in the air as I backed away.

Just as I sat back down, the phone vibrated again. I picked it up and swiped the screen again, knowing it was Magdalena.

Magdalena:
You think you’re so funny, huh? Well, mister, you’re not. It’s not funny when you have a demanding toddler TELLING you what you have to do because it’s going to end the world if you don’t. I swear he’s so dramatic. Thanks for letting her stay. I’ll come pick her up in a couple of hours. We’re going to stop by the farm so I can see the horse. See ya soon!

Talking about dramatic. She was the dramatic one. Only I could totally see Liam acting that way to get what he wanted. Serves her right. I typed back my response momentarily.

Weston:
You’re the one being dramatic. LOL! I’m sure he wasn’t THAT bad. Are you sure about coming to get her? You don’t have to go out of your way. I can bring her to you if that’s okay. Is Andrew okay with having two toddlers in his house? LOL!

My phone went off again before I could even sit it down.

Magdalena:
Oh it was worse than bad, but oh well. Yes, I’m sure. We’re going to be in the area anyway. He’ll be okay. See you in a few hours.

I didn’t know if I should warn him or not. After a few moments of deliberating, I decided not to. It’d be fun to see him sweat. I responded that I’d see her soon as I felt a tug on my shorts.

Looking down, my little pumpkin held a plate almost as big as she was with both hands out to me. The moment was the cutest thing I’d seen in a while.