Crashed

So I let him.

I let him hold me in this backyard, on a plot of grass where violence tried to rob Zander of hope for the last time.

Colton closes the car door for me and climbs into his side of the Range Rover before starting it. He pulls out of the police barricades and past the flashing lights of the awaiting media as we leave The House. Three very long hours have passed. Three hours of questions and retelling everything I could remember about the backyard exchange. About telling Zander to run on “Batman.” The constant looks from Colton sitting in the corner as I refused medical assistance or a check-up at the hospital. His growing anger as I replayed Zander’s father’s comments and physical attacks. Signing statements and having photographs taken of the bruises on my body as evidence. I field phone calls from Haddie and my parents to reassure them that I’m okay, that I’ll call them later to explain more.

Three hours of feeling helpless to comfort my boys, wanting to tell them I was okay. The therapist thought it was best they didn’t see me with my bruised eye and swollen cheek, because it might dredge up their own histories. As much as it hurt not to see them—show them I’m okay—I kissed Zander and held onto him as long as I could while I repeated my praise over and over to him that this time he didn’t hide behind a couch. This time he helped save someone. I know I’m not his mom, but to ease the guilt and assuage the feeling of helplessness in his traumatized psyche was huge.

We merge onto the freeway and besides Rob Thomas’ voice ironically singing Unwell through the speakers, the car is silent. Colton doesn’t say a word despite his hands gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles are white. I can sense his anger, can feel it vibrating in waves off of him, and the only reason I can think of that he’s mad is because I’ve put myself in danger.

I lean my head back on the seat and close my eyes but have to open them immediately because all I see are his eyes, all I feel is the cold steel pressed against my cheek, all I hear is Zander chanting over and over.

I want to ease the tension between Colton and me, because right now I just really need him. I don’t need him closed off in Colton-I’m-pissed-off-land. I need his arms wrapped around me, the warmth of his breath on my neck, the security I always feel when I’m with him.

“He did what you told him to do.” My voice is so soft I’m not sure he hears me tell him the one thing I didn’t tell the police officers. The one thing I felt would violate a part of the trust Colton had instilled in me. After a few minutes, I hear him blow out a sigh and see him glance over at me. So I continue. “When I went outside, Zander had curled up in a ball and all I could hear the whole time we were out there was him calling to your superheroes.”

I yelp as Colton swerves abruptly across two lanes, car horns blaring, and slams the car into park on the side of the freeway. I don’t even have a chance to catch my breath or for my seat belt to unlock before he is out of the car and stalking toward the shoulder of the road to my side of the car. I dart my eyes back and forth trying to figure out what in the hell is going on. Is something wrong with the car? I watch him as he passes my door and paces to the end of the Rover and back up past the front. He keeps walking for about ten feet, and with his back to me I hear him yell something at the top of his lungs in a feral rage I’ve never heard from him before.

If I’d thought about getting out of the car, I know for sure I’m not now. I can see the tension in his shoulders as they rise and fall with his labored breaths. His hands are fisted as if he’s ready to fight, him against the world.

I watch him, can’t take my eyes off of him, as I try to figure out what’s going on inside his head. After some time, he turns back and walks to my car door and yanks it open. I turn instinctively toward him as I take in his grinding teeth, the strain in his neck, and then my eyes lock onto his. We stare at each other and I’m trying to read what his eyes are saying, but it’s such a contradiction to his posture that I must be wrong. I see his jaw muscle pulse as his hand reaches out toward my cheek and then pulls back. I angle my head in question, my bottom lip trembling because I’m just on overload from everything today. I notice his eyes flicker down to my mouth, take in my vulnerability, and within an instant I’m crushed against his chest, one arm spanning my back, one hand holding the back of my head as he clutches me to him in a hug teeming with absolute desperation.

My tears fall onto his shirt as we cling to each other. “I’ve never felt so helpless in my entire life,” he tells me, voice weighed down with emotion as he squeezes me tighter. “I’m so angry right now and I don’t know how to handle it.” I can hear the growl of his rage simmering just beneath the surface.

“It’s over now, Colton. We’re okay—”

“He had his goddamn hands on you!” he yells as he pushes away from me and walks a few feet before spinning around and shoving his hands through his hair. He just stares at me, his eyes pleading for forgiveness that isn’t for him to ask because he didn’t do anything wrong. “He put his hands on you and I wasn’t there! I didn’t protect you, and that’s my fucking job, Rylee! To protect you! To take care of you! And I couldn’t! Fucking couldn’t!” He looks down at the gravel on the side of the road and the anguish in his voice kills me, rips me to shreds, because there was nothing he could have done, but I know telling him that is useless.

When he looks back up, I see the tears glisten in his eyes as he stares at me. “I fought the officer at the barricade. They put me in the back of a car to calm me down because I was going in the house with or without them. I heard you on the phone, Rylee, heard your voice and it just kept replaying over and over in my head and I couldn’t get to you.” He shakes his head as a single heartbreaking tear slides down his face. “I couldn’t get to you.” His voice breaks and I shift to get out of the car, and he just holds up his hand for me to stop, to let him finish.