Misfit(282)

“Hey, Puff,” he greeted as he reached her, pulling her into his arms and kissing her wet cheeks.

Tears made the flecks of gold in her whiskey-hued eyes gleam brighter.

“I miss Mama so much,” she said. “She never met her grandchildren, Matthew.”

“I don’t agree,” he said gruffly. “Just like I think my mother has met our boys.”

He didn’t often think of his mom, dead now for two decades. Sometimes, though, he’d watch his sons as they slept, see their laughter, and tell himself Ryan and Devon laughed with angels—words he remembered his mother saying to him.

Strange how the mind worked, sometimes, and clung to sweet memories. Val couldn’t even call it a defense mechanism. It wasn’t until his children had been born that he’d recalled those words.

“You still miss her,” Zoann guessed.

“Wrong, babe. I still think of her, but I stopped missing her years ago.” After killing her, Val’s father took her body away and never revealed its location, taking that secret to his grave. “I wish I’d discovered where he buried her.”

Getting control of herself, Zoann nodded. “That’s why I asked you to come here.”

Val frowned. “What’re you talking about?”

“Come with me.”

“Cemeteries not my favorite fucking place, Puff. Where are we going?”

“Come with me,” she repeated, sidling a scowl at him. Without giving him a chance to respond, she sashayed ahead of him, toward Big Joe’s obelisk.

As she walked up the hill, Val admired the way her jeans hugged her ass. Her hips flared out, then curved into slender thighs. So busy lusting after his wife, he didn’t notice her stopping, and ran right into her.

“Sorry, babe,” he told her, grabbing her arms to steady her.

Turning in his arms, she smiled up at him, then caressed his jaw. The feel of her touch ignited his blood and he leaned into her touch.

“I think about my mother from time-to-time, Matthew,” she started. “When I want to talk to her, I have a place to visit her. You’ve never had that.”

“I accepted it a long time ago.”

“I can’t give you her, but I can give you this.” She dropped her hand and stepped aside, pointing to a granite stone.

It read, Davita Raylene Taylor, 1966-1996, Finally at Peace.

Val stared at the words, his heart beating fast and hard. He’d known his mother was gone. He’d watched his father slit her throat, but he’d never allowed himself to mourn. Not really. He’d never had the luxury of having a refuge to grieve. Every time he thought of her, he felt as if he had to keep it all in. Bottle it all up.

Knowing of his addiction to sex, and the reasons for it, he often wondered if he should miss her or feel any sorrow. Even Zoann blamed his parents for introducing him to porn as a child. And yet…yet…

“She was my mother, Puff,” he said, as if he needed to explain himself.

“Yes. Whenever you want to talk to her, you have a place now.”

“Why?”

“We only have one mom, Matthew, and she’ll never be replaced. Good or bad, there’ll be no other person like her. Our mothers give us life,” she said softly. “When she’s gone, we want to know that we did everything we could to love and honor her. Cherish her. We work with what we have to provide for our children and hope that they know, that despite everything, most of us try our best. I don’t agree with some of her tactics, but you hold onto the good in her. Honor her here. Tell her about our kids. Let her know what a fine husband and father you’ve become. I’m sure she’s so proud of you.”

“Are you?” he asked in a choked voice.

“Of course. I’m proud to know you and proud to call you my man.”

“Fuck, Puff.” She, alone, had always known how to humble him. “I love you so fucking much.”

Smiling, she laid her head on his shoulder. “Not more than I love you.”

Val tangled his hand in Zoann’s hair, breathing in her scent. It dawned on him what had guided him to her and he closed his eyes. “Thanks, Davi,” he whispered to his mom, the name he’d once called her.

Only his mother’s intercession could’ve brought him and Zoann through all they’d endured to the years of happiness that lay ahead.





“I can do your hair, Kendall,” Fee offered, stroking her fingers through Kendall’s hair and meeting her gaze in her vanity mirror.

The results of her pregnancy test hit Kendall in the face again, almost like a lick, as she glanced at the pee stick on the edge of her table. She wanted to feel happy but fear, more than anything else, swamped her.