His words felt like a punch to the gut. I did so much, how dare does he judge me?

“I did it!” I couldn’t control my voice. He was accusing me. “Twice.” I showed him two fingers then I rolled my sleeve, showing him my left arm. “I barely made it out of there.”

“What happened?” He gasped and caressed the four-inch-long scar.

My heartbeat skipped when he feathered it with kisses.

“She was a meth addict. Her husband was a pimp and a wife beater. The children lived in a good foster home for a couple of years. A part of me wanted to keep them there forever. The other part, the one that had been helping the mom, wanted the family back together. She worked hard to stay sober, got a job. The government provided housing and insurance.”

“So, you just gave her the kids back and left?”

“Of course not. I personally didn’t hand them over. And we don’t just abandon children. My department continued checking on her. We made sure that she’d kept her job, stayed clean, and didn’t neglect the kids. Never told her anything about her ex-husband because he was out of the picture. Well, we assumed that after the beating he gave her, she wouldn’t take him back.”

“Did you seriously believe that?”

“I wanted to trust her,” my voice rose.

“You should have done more.”

“Don’t you think I did? I used my time and money to keep an eye on them. I paid the neighbors to keep me updated.” I paced around the room, calming myself.

“But I bet that the minute the fucker waltzed back into her life, she opened her fucking door, her fucking legs, and snorted everything he gave her,” he growled.

Was he blaming me for what had happened? As if this were his own story.

“And you did nothing.”

He was blaming me.

“The moment I learned about a guy being at their house, I was ready to ensure the safety of the kids,” I defended myself.

“The fucking system hasn’t changed.” He threw his hands up in the air, glaring at me.

“You can hate the system, but not me. I drove that night to the other side of town to check on the kids, ready to call my supervisor so we could retrieve them if anything were wrong. I never expected to see him,” I paused, taking some air. Showing my case before he passed judgment.

“There was a man’s jacket on the couch, but there was also something wrong with her. I saw it. The glazed eyes. So, I confronted her. ‘Do you want us to take your children away?’ I asked her, shaking in rage. Then, I finally noticed. She didn’t respond. Her limbs shook. ‘Are you high?’ I demanded to know, but she stared at the coat closet instead. I grabbed my phone and called my boss, asking him to call the police so they could pick up the kids. That’s when the guy jumped out of the closet. ‘You bitch,’ he yelled pushing me against the couch. ‘You won’t tear my family apart. I’m going to kill you.’ He had a knife. I covered myself with my arm …”

I broke down, as the fear crept through my body. There I was, lying on a stranger’s couch, covering my body with my arms and praying that it wasn’t the end. It had been more than a couple of years, but as I told the story, the emotional wound opened again.

“I tried so hard.”

“It’s okay, Sade.” Kaden took me in his arms, pressing me hard against him. Protecting me. “You’re safe with me.”

“I heard the shot. Suddenly he was on top of me. His face bleeding.” I rubbed my face, remembering the copper and gunpowder smell. “Sh-she shot him.”

I closed my eyes, but all I could see was the blood. His blood, my blood. I pushed him away, he fell to the floor, and I saw her. She pointed the gun at me, yelling that I had ruined her life. It was because of me that she had to kill him. He’d rather die than go to jail.

Take care of the kids, she said. And then… she turned the gun on herself. Her last words before she pulled the trigger haunted me. Her head exploded, blood splattered everywhere, and I couldn’t do anything to stop her.

“I wanted her to have a better life,” I cried. “But she chose to follow him. She killed herself.”

Kade pressed me against him mumbling soothing words, reassuring me that I was okay, that I was with him, that as long as he had me no one would harm me.

“Where were the children?”

“At the neighbors, watching TV because they didn’t own one. It had been my idea. I was ready to call the police if I found something suspicious. I just didn’t know she was high or that things would turn … Before she pulled the trigger, she asked me to take care of her kids. But I couldn’t,” I sobbed.

My body trembled with fear. She could’ve killed me, and I was just trying to help.

“After that day I couldn’t go back to work.”

“You’re safe. You’re with me. What you did was brave, and too dangerous,” he said softly.

“Hey, nothing is going to happen to you” he repeated, as tears cascaded down my face. “Let it out. Don’t keep anything inside.”

His words and the comfort of his arms erased the pain that I had carried with me. I talked about the incident with three different therapists. But no one had held me and let me cry and told me that everything would be okay.

“Sorry,” I apologized when I realized that his shirt was soaking wet.

“I’m sorry for being such an asshole to you.”

“You were part of the system, weren’t you?”

He shrugged in response.

“I don’t want to pry or bore you with my stupid stories.”

“Hey, they aren’t stupid,” he said with a terse voice.

“I’m glad you trusted me. That’s what friends are for, right?” I nodded in response to his question. “It makes sense that you quit, but why did you decide to open the flower shop?”

“Dad asked me to change careers, arguing that I would never be safe. He thought I should go back to school.” I sighed, going to my room and looking for one of my long t-shirts. “He offered to pay for college. That’s him, always thinking of a solution. He never stops to tend the wounds. Honestly, I wasn’t planning on going back to work. I couldn’t even think beyond the next day, let alone what I’d do with my future.

“Before I quit, I took some time off while I was working through the trauma. I was on administrative paid leave, and their insurance covered my mental health. Every night I had nightmares. Sometimes she shot me everywhere, and I was gushing blood. Others he beat me … and in some, I never made it out alive.”

I snapped my mouth shut, realizing that I was telling way too much to a man who I barely knew.

“But that doesn’t answer why a flower shop.”

“Patience is not your strength, is it?”

“I’m curious.”

“Though my father and I don’t have a great relationship, he was the one who stayed by my side. He took me into his home. While I lived with him, I spent a lot of time in his backyard. I created a garden and changed the flower beds often. It calmed me more than talking to the therapists. It occurred to me that maybe I could go back to school and study landscape architecture. But then I remembered that grandma once told me that her dream was to open a flower shop. She wanted to deliver joy, congratulations, sympathy, and happiness along with a wide smile. Once I was strong enough to get out of my father’s house, I asked him to help me open the shop.”

I walked to my bathroom and splashed cold water on my face.

“You deliver all that? I thought your business was flowers.” He continued our conversation even when I was out of sight.

“Your business is making people feel through your melodies and lyrics, not just playing music,” I retorted loudly to ensure that he could hear me.

“I never thought about that, but I guess you’re right. Though your job sounds cooler than mine.”

“If you ever have free time, you should join me. It’s good for your heart.” I leaned my face against the wall, trying to find my footing.

“You’re good for my heart.”

I pressed my lips together when I noticed what I had done. Invited him back for another day in the life of Sadie. Getting rid of him was going to take me longer than I’d imagined.

“Enough about me,” I said out loud. I found him sitting on my bed, staring at me with such tenderness I almost melted.

“After all that’s happened to you, you still radiate so much light.”

“You’re blind.” I opened my credenza and pulled out one of my favorite extra-large t-shirts. “There’s no light around me. Here, change.”

“I take it you’re a fan.” He took the shirt, grinning as he read the name of the band. “Killing Hades. No, you’re a hardcore fan. This one is from twelve, maybe thirteen years ago.”

“Maybe, just maybe, I’ve been following your band for a few years. Your music isn’t half bad.”

He took off his shirt, showing his eight-pack and that v that turned me on. I wanted to run the pads of my fingers over his ridges. But I snapped out of the trance once the t-shirt I offered him covered his skin.

“What do you want to do?” He checked the time. “We have a few hours before I have to be at the café.”

The smart thing to say would be: go home, I have things to do. But I felt vulnerable and didn’t want him to leave just yet.

“We could watch a movie or play a board game,” I found myself saying without hesitation.

“Board game?” He arched an eyebrow. “I like a good challenge. What do you have?

I walked to the kitchen to put away the groceries. “The games are in my studio. Third bookcase at the bottom.”

Once I finished putting everything away and his things inside a reusable bag, I walked toward the living room where he was clearing the coffee table.

“Do you want something to drink?”

“What do you have?”

“I’m afraid just rice milk, water, and juice. Sorry, we don’t carry alcohol in this establishment,” I tried to joke, figuring a guy like him would think I was lame.

He already knew too much about me. I didn’t have to tell him about my mother.

“Well, that’s a good thing since I’m an alcoholic.”

He stared at me for several beats. Maybe he was waiting for my reaction.

“Recovering?” I dared to ask. He nodded once. “Mom just got out of rehab a couple of months ago. Since she visits me often, I make sure that there’s nothing she can take—by mistake.”

“I’ve been clean for seven years,” he confessed, pulling out his phone and showing me a picture of two beautiful girls. The oldest had auburn hair and light brown eyes. The second one had his dark brown hair and the same eyes as her sister. They were adorable. “I do it because I want to be part of their lives.”

My heart almost exploded with his words. I’d met plenty of men and women with addictions, and not many had put their children before their vice. I understood it’s an illness, something they had all their lives. But some chose to get better and follow treatment, while others couldn’t help themselves.

“Should I leave?” He looked at me, then at the door.

“Why? I mean, if you want to.”

“I don’t want to, but your silence is making me think that you want me to.”

“No, I’m just thinking. I’ve met many people and handled so many cases that involved fathers abandoning their children, mothers only caring about their next fix … or both doing drugs and putting their children in danger. Not many parents put their children first.

“My parent’s divorced when I was six, and after, my mom had a revolving door of men. She was always drunk and neglected me. No one, not even my father, realized it because she knew how to hide it. If she lost custody of me, she’d lose the monthly check my father gave her for child support. Dad couldn’t care for a kid. He was too busy with other women and his business.” I shrugged.

“You’re a rock star who could be more involved in his career and his fans. I don’t know much about the lifestyle, but I’m sure you’re surrounded by temptation. Yet, you’re clean.”

“My motives might change your mind. In the beginning, that wasn’t my goal. It was just making sure that my ex wouldn’t bring danger to the girls.”

“Danger?”

“Once we divorced, my ex started bringing other guys to the house. I fought her for custody, but being a drunk and addicted to painkillers lost me, my children. The judge granted her full custody until I cleaned up. I couldn’t let her win.”

“You took a step to recovery, and your motivation was your children.”

“It was guilt and fear. This time, I had the power to stop her.”

“Her?”

“My mother.”

“I’m pretty confused, rewind and explain to me how one is related to the other?”

“Alicia, my ex-wife, behaved a lot like my mother.”

“What happened?” I walked to where he sat and joined him, taking his hand.

“Dad left when I was one.” His attention was set on the coffee table. “He left us for a much younger woman, my sister explained when I was older. Mom couldn’t keep a job because she liked her booze and drugs more than she liked to wake up early and work. The men she brought home paid for her alcohol and drug addiction too. She was beautiful, had a great body and knew how to exploit it.”

He went quiet, taking several deep breaths.

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t need to share, but this is a safe place. I’m safe.”

“The men felt entitled, and Mom allowed them to do more than she offered. One time, one of them tried to touch my sister. He beat me because I defended her. After that, my sister and I slept with the door locked. But that didn’t stop them when they were too drunk and wanted to beat the shit out of anyone around. Mom didn’t care much about our safety. Some of them beat the fuck out of the three of us after they fucked her. I was only ten when I began to drink to forget the shit that was going on at home.”

My heart broke for the little boy. I wanted to take him with me and keep him safe. He continued telling me that some winters it was colder inside their home than outside. She barely brought food to the table.

“At some point, her face and body began to change. She became ugly. Not many men found her attractive. When my sister turned sixteen …” He covered his face with both hands, resting them on his thighs. I drew soothing circles on his back.

“You can stop at any time.”

“I had no idea it was going on, I swear.” He hit his face. “How didn’t I know what they were doing to her?”

“It’s not your fault,” I told him, turning his torso toward me and hugging him. “You were a kid.”

“But I heard her crying at night. She’d tell me that everything was fine. Two months later she killed herself, and social services took me away from the house. She left a letter describing what Mom was doing. She was afraid that I was going to be next.”

“You’re safe.”

“But she died. Hannah died because of me.”

“No, Hannah died because your mother forced her to do things. She died because there weren’t any adults to care for her. You were a kid.”

“Mom went to jail for ten years. She was charged with child exploitation, child pornography—she was selling pictures of us naked. Possession of drugs and child endangerment. I had no idea she was doing all that.”

“And what happened to you?” I couldn’t help but kiss his shoulder and hug him tighter.

I hurt for the kid who feared for his safety. They took away his innocence, his loving sister.

“The system,” he sighed. “But I was a troubled child—I began drinking Mom’s stuff, and by the time I was taken, it was too late. Every night I stole the liquor from their cabinets. Once I robbed a liquor store.”

“No one helped you?”

He straightened up and looked me in the eyes. “You weren’t there. Not everyone is like you.”

I had no idea if that was a line or a compliment, but I felt vulnerable. “You don’t know me. I failed many times.” I controlled my tone because I didn’t want to lose our connection.

“Yet, I know you’d have helped me, saved me from myself.” I run a hand through his hair, it’s surprisingly soft. He seemed so strong, but the darkness he lived through made him feel powerless.

This guy didn’t have a game plan. He had a bruised heart and lots of love to give. It amazed me that as broken as he was, he could be so open and vulnerable. Was he like that with everyone?

The romantic fool inside me wanted to love him, to heal him. But that part of me died long ago, and the shrewd in me knew I didn’t have anything to give him.

“Not to rain on your parade, but when you were thirteen, I was only seven. There wasn’t much that I could’ve done. What happened to you?”

“I ended up in a group home. By then, I had met Jax, and we started our band. We moved to Seattle when we turned eighteen.”

“Where are you from?”

“I grew up in southern California, but not many know that. My mother might or might not live there. I never went back, which makes me a horrible son and human being.”

“It doesn’t.”

“You don’t know me,” he threw my own words back at me.

“No, I don’t, but let me tell you, Mr. Hades, after hearing all that, I know you’re a good father, a strong man. And you should be proud of yourself.”

“Nah, sobriety is something everyone should do. As I said, I just want to make sure that my ex doesn’t bring home trash. That whoever she dates is safe for the girls. So that I can take them away from her if I believe she’s not caring for them. I don’t want Tess or Hannah to go through the things that my sister, Hannah, and I went through.”

“You named your daughter after your sister,” I touched my chest, moved by this man who loved his children fearlessly. “Guilt or no guilt, you’re a wonderful father, Mr. Hades.”

He shook his head.

“How old are they?”

“Hannah is eight, almost nine. Tess just turned thirteen.”

“A teenager? Wow, that’s a difficult age.”

“She’s difficult. In fact, your friend Ella reminded me of my Tess. They like to have everything and share nothing. But Hannah, she’s sweet.”

“Like her dad?”

“You think I’m sweet?”

“I think you hide a lot behind that angry-sexy-hombre façade.”

He winked at me, shaking his head. “Come with me tonight?”

“As much as I’d love to go, I’d rather stay at home and rest,” I excused myself. “Monday will be here too soon.”

“Fine, I’ll take the few hours we have left.”

“We don’t have anything left, you should leave so I can get comfortable,” I pointed to the door. Though, deep inside I wished he’d choose to stay.

“I was promised a game, a drink, perhaps dinner before I leave.”

“You’re on your own for that. I plan to order takeout and watch Netflix.”

“Homemade meal,” he insisted.

“No, today is takeout. It’s on the calendar. I might not be very organized, but I have a food schedule to follow.”

“Pizza?”

“For the millionth time, I’m allergic to dairy products. But you can always go home and order pizza.”

“I have to leave at six-thirty, we should order at five.”

“It’s three o’clock. Do you know what your children are doing?”

“At their mother’s. It’s her weekend.” He checks his phone. “That means you have me all to yourself this weekend. What do you want to do, beautiful?”

“You’re tenacious, Mr. Hades.” I threw my hands up in the air, giving up. “Or bored and I’m the only person in Seattle who has nothing to do, like you.”

“Maybe that’s it.” He sent me a grin that made my heart skip a few beats.

A smile pulled at my lips when I realized he wasn’t leaving. I was glad because we both had unloaded a lot of heavy stuff. Neither one of us should have been alone. His company was surprisingly comfortable. The banter between us felt just right.