Chapter 3

Impatience flickered across Jim's face, but before he could get a word out, Elizabeth shook her head at him, gentle and understanding, and led Milo off toward the other car without complaint. As if she were afraid I might start something with Jim, she glanced back once she was inside, gave him a soft, reassuring smile, and let him know she was fine.

That gesture alone was enough to light the fuse on Jim's temper. He got straight into the Bentley and slammed the door, leaving me and Charlie standing there like a couple of fools.

Whatever Elizabeth said to Milo, it made him burst out laughing. He rolled down his window and called out, all mock innocence, "Don't be mad, Charlie. Mom and I gave up our seats for you two. No need to thank us."

My son's face went pale, his small body trembling. I couldn't stand to watch him take it.

"That car's registered under my name," I shot back. "What business do you or your mother have giving it up?"

Elizabeth faltered, shot me a weak glance, and pulled Milo—his face flushed red—close to murmur an apology. "I'm sorry, Autumn. It's our fault. Please don't be upset."

Jim clicked his tongue and cut in coldly, "Enough, both of you. It's just a car. Is this really worth dragging out?"

Without waiting for a response, he drove off without a backward glance.

Charlie looked up at me, forced an ugly little smile, and pulled me into the car. He stayed silent the whole ride, glancing every so often at the Bentley beside us.

Milo, by the window of the other car, caught him looking and flashed a strange little grin. A second later, he slowly lifted something into view: a charm.

Charlie's expression changed instantly. It was the gift he'd made for Jim—the one we'd spent a whole month working on together. In less than a week, that charm, meant for Jim's keys, had ended up crushed and mangled in Milo's fist.

Grinning, Milo stared straight at Charlie and mouthed, exaggerating every word. "Trash. I wouldn't take it even for free!"

Charlie's chest heaved. His lips shook, his eyes locked on Milo's hands. I couldn't bear to watch him suffer and reached to turn his face away—but in the next second, Milo rolled down the window and flung the charm out onto the road.

Almost before I could react, Charlie threw open the car door and jumped out without a moment's hesitation.

My heart lurched into my throat. "No—Charlie!"

Two brakes shrieked in quick succession. Jim and I were both out of our cars before either had fully stopped. But the instant my hand landed on my son, Jim scooped him up and was already racing toward the hospital.

Not until the doctor told us he was fine did my hands finally start shaking, and I broke down in tears. Jim looked just as shaken—I'd never seen his face go that pale. Once he'd pieced together what had actually happened, he went quiet for a long time.

Elizabeth, looking terrified, pulled Milo straight down onto their knees.

"Milo just lost his grip on it, he didn't mean it. Please, Autumn, let it go this once."

The two of them huddled together, shaking like a pair of frightened birds—anyone watching would've thought I was about to do something to them. Jim, unable to bear the sight, helped them up and saw them out, then hurried back inside.

Charlie hadn't broken any bones, but there were deep scrapes along his arm and across his face, and he'd sweated through the stitches. Still, there was a strange, satisfied glow on his face.

"Dad really does care about me, doesn't he?" he whispered to me. "Mom, if this is what it takes to keep him around, I don't mind falling a few more times."

It felt like a knife twisting in my chest. If the only way my son could earn scraps of his father's love was like this, I'd rather he had no father at all.

"Go get some sleep."

At midnight, Jim's voice came from behind me. I tucked the blanket snugly around my son and stepped out of the room with him.