I’d already had my nails done. I’d had my hair done. I’d had a pedicure, eyelash tint, and eyebrow wax. You name it. I fucking got it, because I thought all of that would help me find her. That girl I used to be.
I didn’t go far, just across town. I thought I’d try eyelash extensions this time—nothing too glamorous. I was just a stay-at-home mum after all. I opted for the one-on-one application, which took almost two hours, but I walked out with thick, dark lashes and absolutely no sign of the old me. I was still lost, but my lashes . . . my lashes looked fucking amazing.
And that was all that mattered, right?
Right.
The boys were happy. They loved their dog. They didn’t like me, because der, I was a terrible mother who murdered their sibling and screamed, swore, and smacked my children, but at least I had amazing fucking lashes.
I played my music loud on the way home.
I sang . . . loudly . . . the whole way.
“Ex’s and O’s”.
I pulled into our court.
I pulled into our drive, and then I felt a bump just as I noticed our front door was open.
No.
No.
This wasn’t happening.
Lucas waited at the window for me to come home.
Always.
He ran to the front door.
He had worked out how to unlock it. I forgot to tell Taylor. Forgot to warn her.
My car was big. Lucas was small.
My eyes were zeroed in on the empty window where Lucas should have been.
The music was loud, but I could hear them.
Carter. Archie. Flynn.
Screaming.
Screaming. Screaming. Screaming.
Three of my children were screaming.
One of my children was missing.
I couldn’t breathe.
I couldn’t fucking breathe.
I fell. I opened the door so fast I fell out of the car gasping for air. The engine was still running; the music still playing.
I was on my hands and knees and it was dark and I was screaming.
“Lucas!” I screamed so loudly I felt like my throat was bleeding. I was on my hands and knees in the dark, and I was searching under the car, but I couldn’t see him.
I couldn’t find him.
And then I did.
Taylor had him. He was crying, and Taylor was crying, but he looked fine. Carter, Flynn, and Archie. All crying.
And that was when I saw him.
The dog.
I’d hit the dog.
“I’m so sorry, he was so quick. He saw you from the window and ran for the door, but Flynn caught him and pulled him back in to me.” Taylor was sobbing now, and the boys were on me. Lucas reached out his arms, and I took him and held him close. I kissed his head and breathed him in as every single cell in my body shook so bad, I felt like I was convulsing.
“Flynn brought him back, but the dog got out the open door. I screamed at the kids not to dare chase after him because of the road.” She covered her tear-streaked face with her hands and sobbed harder. “I’m so sorry.”
I climbed to my feet with Lucas on one hip, Archie on the other, and Flynn and Carter pressed up against me.
“Call Liam, Taylor. Call Liam, explain what happened, and ask if he can come home.”
I sat on the sofa and did my best to console my babies. I did this to them. I killed their dog, their puppy. They loved him, and I killed him. I didn’t mean to, but I did.
“He’s on his way.”
“You okay?” Taylor shook her head and started to sob again, and then we are all crying again. We were still sitting on the couch sobbing when Liam came through the door. The boys sobbed and clung to their dad, and all I could think was: I did this.
Liz arrived and took Taylor home. My brother arrived with Liam and was out the front dealing with the dog. I sat and rocked Lucas in my arms.
The kids eventually fell asleep, and Liam helped me bring them upstairs and tuck them together in our bed. They were sleeping soundly, snuggled in and safe in my and Liam’s bed, and I finally allowed myself to completely and utterly fall apart.
In my husband’s arms, I shattered.
“I thought it was Lucas.” My words and my sobs heaved out of me. “I thought I hit the baby. That could’ve been the baby, Liam. I could’ve killed one of the kids.”
“Shhhh. It’s okay. They’re safe. Look. They’re all there and they’re safe.”
He slid down onto the floor and pulled me into his lap.
“I’ve got you, pretty girl. Always remember that. I’ve always got you.”
But he didn’t.
He was never there.
He wasn’t there for the twins.
He wasn’t there for Grandad.
He wasn’t there when I made a decision that led to the darkest day of my life, and he wasn’t there for this.
He was never there.
Luke walked into our bedroom with a bottle of bourbon and three glasses.
“No, I don’t like bourbon.”