Finding Love (Behind Blue Lines Book 3)

by Christine Zolendz

I was instantly fascinated by her—a beautiful, damaged princess—what could her life be like that was so horrible she needed to do this to get away from it? What pain did she feel? She had everything. I hated myself for the envy that took over, rocking me back on the heels of my bare feet.

  Her eyes blinked up at me, trying to focus. Her lips moved to form words, but none reached my ears.

  I stumbled back. Lost in silent rage. White noise filled my head as I watched her fall out of the car onto the grass, the needle jamming deeper under her skin. My limbs shook with tremors that matched hers. My phone was against my ear, and my voice was talking, telling a 911 dispatcher where we were. But the fire inside me stilled burned, boiling my blood. This piece of shit could have killed her children today, and now we have to save her selfish life.

  It wasn’t fair.

  It wasn’t.

  Dylan Sanborn rushed to the car. His knees were in the grass, his hands yanking out the needle and crushing it in his fist. His face looked like a storm, thunderous and dangerous, spiraling and circling like a tornado. She’s too thin on the ground, she twitched and kicked, and her head lolled to the side. Her eyes jiggled like one of Addison's toys, and she couldn't see us; she couldn't see what she'd done or what she might have hurt.

  “Sheri. What the fuck did you do?” Dylan’s voice was primal. Gut wrenching.

  Sheri. Sheri Sanborn. The bitch was wearing the coat I left on the front door, sized for her child, around her waist. And I know without a doubt the fifty dollars I left in the front pocket bought her all the heroin that presently surged through her veins. I wanted to scream.

  I stepped back further, not trusting myself.

  Sirens wailed in the distance, closing in.

  Arms wrapped around my frame, and hands dug into my sides. I looked around wildly, about to go to blows with whoever was touching me.

  “Your dress is up. You’re full of mud. You’re barefoot. And you’re about to lose it.” Ryan’s voice was against my ear, his arms pulling me up and dragging me away. Brooke was grabbing me next, encasing me in her arms and holding me tight. “I got you, girl. Let’s walk it off. Let’s go.”

  “For the love of God,” I snapped, dislodging myself from the unwanted hug fest. “I am absolutely fine.” I shrugged them both off and watched as the ambulance pulled up to the scene.

  Shadows and people crowded around, blending into each other. I could barely make out features, my eyes blurred with angry tears. Time moved in quick snapshots in front of me. White noise filled my head, and my pulse pounded loudly in my ears.

  “Thank you.” The achingly soft-spoken words drifted into my thoughts.

  “What?” I asked, turning to whoever had walked up to my right side.

  Dylan Sanborn stood next to me, watching the emergency technicians deal with his wife. His face turned full to me, and his eyes glossed with tears, his mouth in an angry slash across his face. “If it weren’t for you, I don’t know what would have happened today.”

  I nodded, numbly, feeling horrible for him.

  Sheri was moved onto a gurney and rolled quickly into the back of the ambulance.

  “You the husband?” the driver called out.

  “Yeah,” Dylan answered, nodding his head.

  “You coming or what?” the guy asked impatiently.

  Dylan faced me. Terror filled his eyes. “The kids…I can’t…I don’t have anyone.”

  I touched my hand to his, and something strange zinged at the base of my neck. "I'll take care of them. I'm right here. I could stay until you get back."

  I wanted to take back the words as soon as I said them, stuff them back in my mouth and choke on them. Why would I say that? Why would I want to help a woman who…

  Dylan's eyes filled with tears, and he grabbed me in a hug. The embrace was hard and tight, and I felt the relief flood off him in strong, hot waves.

  "I owe you my life right now, Detective Ward.”

  The scruff on the bottom of his chin scratched at the side of my face as he pulled away. He shoved a set of keys into my hands and climbed into the back of the ambulance without another word.

  “Not the best idea, Callie. I think we should call—”

  “No one asked you, Ryan,” I snapped, heading back up toward Dylan’s house. And there in the doorway stood Jack Creed, with a crying Ben in his arms.

  "He just woke up, and I didn't see any bottles or milk or anything."

  I held out my hands, and he offered me Ben. "I saw some under the sink before. Clean the bottle well, please, for me. Boil some water."

  “Sure thing, Callie.”

  Chapter 6

  Dylan

  The clock on the wall told me it was five in the morning. I was grateful for it, the clock, with its steady ticking and the solid, reliable truth it told. Time goes on.

  “Get any sleep?” Sergeant Kannon’s voice rumbled from the doorway.

  I looked up, blinked my eyes into focus; the ghostly impression of a floating clock faded slowly over his features. I shrugged and tiredly rubbed my eyes.

  “I might have passed out for a minute or two.”

  He stepped into the room, holding out a cup of coffee toward me. “Light and sweet, hope that’s okay,” he said, sitting in the seat next to me and settling in with a grunt.

  “Yeah, thanks,” I said low. The cup warmed my hands, and I was profoundly thankful for it when it touched my lips. It took the chill out of my body and chased away the hunger. "I mean it. Thank you."

  “No big deal,” he replied casually, as if he really believed it.

  Maybe he did. Maybe he saw families like this every night. Maybe my wife wasn’t so different; perhaps my life and the atrocities Sheri had thrown at us were normal.

  "You get a lot of this? I mean, you see a lot of this, right?"

  He slowly turned his head toward me. His eyes were sad and full of pity.

  Damn it. I took a deep breath and sighed low. “I keep telling myself it isn’t so bad. We’ll get through it.”

  He cleared his throat, his gaze drifting over to the hospital bed in front of us, and the still figure of Sheri tucked beneath its crisp white sheets. For the last hour, I pretended she wasn't there. I ignored the beeps of the blood pressure machine as it measured how slow her heart pumped the blood through her body. I avoided the moans she made in her sleep and the way her skin took on a pale, bluish shine. I just stared at the clock on the wall and watched the time slowly tick by, second to second. Waiting for the moment everything would be better.

  “In my experience, heroin isn’t a temporary issue.” He leaned back and rubbed his hands over his head. “It’s never an easy thing to get rid of.”

  “Maybe I should move her away. We could start fresh. Somewhere new,” I said half-heartedly. I didn’t believe that, though; not really.

  “Yeah, that’s true, you could.” He studied me for a few brief moments, hesitating, his lips working themselves, it seemed, trying to form the next words to say. “A lot of people think environment is the problem. Or the people they hang out with. And if you could just get them away from it all, it’ll be fine.”

  “But it won’t be, will it?” I asked.

  “Heroin is everywhere. It’s inside her here.” He pointed to his forehead as he spoke. “She needs help, medical help, not new scenery.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” I said, settling back into silence.

  There was nothing more to say after that. We both sipped at our coffees until they turned cold, then he slowly pushed himself off the chair and ambled his way back to the door.

  “Thanks again,” I called out after him, but the man just left, waving me off without a proper goodbye.

  The clock became my only company again, slowly clicking, clicking, clicking, every second away. Fifty-six minutes after five o’clock, my mother-in-law rushed in, her cheeks pink from the outside air and her eyes red from the inside scene.

  “How could you let this happen?” she hissed at me throu
gh angry, clenched teeth.

  “Me? I let this happen?” I stood up, stunned by her audacity. Sharp pins and needles sliced through my legs. “I went to work. All I do is work. I had no idea she was using that shit again.”

  “Where are my grandchildren?” she demanded, pushing her hands against the bed railing.

  “With the cops.” Fuck her. Fuck her and her high and mighty attitude that her daughter’s heroin addiction was my fault.

  Her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open.

  “Your daughter left MY children alone—ALL DAY,” I screamed, “to go and get high in her car. The car I bought her. The car I paid for.” I stepped forward, closing in on the bed. “Addison crossed a street by herself, with Ben in her doll carriage, and went to a neighbor’s house. A neighbor she knew was a police officer to help her find her mother.”

  She stumbled back, disbelief and horror marring her perfect cosmetically plastic face. “No—”

  “Yes,” I snapped back, not letting her deny it. “They were home alone all day. I texted you. I texted you to stop by and check on her. I needed to work, Claudine. I’m still paying for her rehab from two years ago and all the trouble she got into back then. Me! I’m paying for it! So don’t blame me for your daughter’s fuck ups!”

  Between us, on the bed, Sheri stirred. Her head turned slightly, and her hands raised up and clumsily grabbed onto the bed rails.

  "What's…what's going on?" Her eyes blinked furiously, her hands grasped the metal tighter, and she tried desperately to pull herself up. "Where am I?" she cried.

  “You’re in the hospital. You almost overdosed,” I gritted out.

  “No. I couldn’t have…I didn’t do anything…I—” Glazed eyes batted up at me. “What are you saying? You’re lying to me.”

  “I’m lying to you?” Was she serious?

  “Sheri, honey. We’ll take care of everything, okay? I think it’s time you moved back home with the children. Let me help take care of you.”

  My pulse sped up, and my body instantly tensed. “You’re not taking my kids away from me.” Heat flushed through my body, bursting out of my pores in sweat and quivering flesh.

  “Dylan.” Sheri’s voice cracked and trembled. “Dylan, stop. It’s okay. Okay. No one…” She took a slow breath and coughed. “No one is taking the kids away from you.” She sleepily turned her head toward her mother. “I’ll stay with you until I feel better. Let Dylan take care of the kids, and then—”

  “You don’t have a say,” I cut her off. “Neither of you do.”

  I stormed out into the hallway before I did anything or said anything I’d regret. The violent thoughts that clouded my head were all too real and all too well planned out for me to tempt myself. The only problem was, I didn't know what the hell I was going to do. I needed to be at work in two hours, and I had two kids I was now solely responsible for.

  I hesitated at my front door, listening to the sounds from just inside the house. My knuckles grasped the knob, still blackened with grease, as I listened carefully. There was singing. And laughter. Loud giggling, and a sharp squeal of delight. I unlocked the door and pushed it open, rubbing the grime off my hands with the hem of my shirt.

  Inside, the clock above the kitchen table read twenty-eight minutes past six. Just underneath it sat Addison at the table, dressed as a princess, her tiara-topped hair falling into a neat braid. She was eating a small stack of pancakes. Behind her, Detective Ward held Ben in her arms. She was dancing and singing “Old McDonald Had a Farm” while Addison mooed like a cow between bites. The bottom of my throat suddenly ached, spreading a throbbing heat over my neck and collarbone.

  “This tea and crumpets is so yummy, Queen Callie," Addison said in a silly accent. I couldn’t stop the smile that pulled at the corner of my mouth.

  “Why, thank you ever so much, Princess Addison. Would you like a bit more tea?” Callie Ward’s English accent was dead on. Ben softly cooed and gurgled in her arms.

  I pressed up against the hallway wall for a moment just to relish in the sound of both my children laughing and playing, the way they should be doing every day. Unfortunately, my keys accidentally hit the wall and clanked to the floor loudly, giving away my hiding spot.

  “Daddy?” Addison called out.

  I pulled myself from the shadows and walked into the room. “Hey there, Princess Addison. You look beautiful this morning,” I said, smiling down at her. I hoped she couldn’t see the exhaustion and defeat I felt in my bones.

  Addison jumped off the chair and grabbed onto my legs in a hug. I felt my smile deepen, cracking my dry lips.

  "Hey," the detective murmured.

  My gaze met hers, hitting me with an overwhelming sense of relief and gratitude. She must have seen it in my expression or sensed it somehow, because her eyebrows pulled together and her face filled with worry.

  “Did everything turn out okay?”

  I nodded my head, unable to say a word. No, everything wasn't really okay. My life was shit. My wife was a junkie. I needed to be at work in an hour, and when I call in to take the day to stay with my kids, I will lose my job. I never thought I’d end up like this.

  I stood across from her, scratching at the sweat and dirt caked on the back of my neck. A thousand thoughts and feelings were careening forward to stumble past the tip of my tongue.

  “How is she?” she whispered, her eyes darting all over my face.

  I nodded numbly. "She'll be all right, I guess. She's…uh…she's going to stay with her mother when this is over, I think.”

  She nodded sadly.

  I glanced at the clock. I needed to call Vinny and get it all over with.

  “Do you need to get to work?” she asked quietly.

  Addison looked up at her with bright eyes. “Can Callie stay here and play with me, Daddy?”

  My head jerked back a bit. I didn’t know how to explain what was going on to her. I didn’t want to scare her or hurt her, and I especially didn’t want her to see me upset or find out her mother was sick.

  “Do you have to go to work today?” Callie asked. She shifted her weight and swayed Ben with her shoulders. “Because it’s my day off.” She cleared her throat and stammered a bit. “If you need me to look after them today I can.”

  I couldn’t form words. I just collapsed in the chair across from my daughter and nodded my head as a burning sensation welled up behind my eyelids.

  “Okay. Do you have some time for pancakes?” she asked, sliding a stack of homemade pancakes in front of me.

  Addison smiled. “Queen Callie makes the bestest pancakes in the kingdom, Daddy.”

  I devoured them immediately.

  Chapter 7

  Callie

  As existential crises go, mine was a quiet one. No one on the outside would have guessed my world had imploded in on itself. I couldn’t even pinpoint the exact moment I questioned the very foundation of my existence, my meaning in life – or honestly, lack of. Was it when Addison rang the doorbell? When she reached for my hand? Was it the first time I held her brother or heard either of them laugh?

  Would I ever know? Would I ever understand? Maybe I should just stop thinking and live in this moment. I was never going to get a moment like this again.

  I pressed Ben to my shoulder and showed Addison how to scrape her unfinished pancakes into the trash and place the dirty dish into the sink.

  Turning my head into the baby’s body, I breathed in deep, the scent of formula and baby filling me with something, some unknown, nameless emotion I only ever dreamed existed. Ben was such a perfect baby: chubby cheeks, long lashes, and tiny stubby little fingers. He laid his head on my shoulder, staring up at me, as if he knew my secrets—the reasons I held him so tight and why my heart trembled with longing—he knew it all.

  “Can we build a castle out of Legos?” Addison asked, pulling me back to reality, churning my stomach with nerves.

  “What?” I blinked down at her. She was pretty perfect, too: a heart shaped fac
e, big blue eyes, and pouty pink lips. Just like her mother.

  Right. I cleared my throat and forced a smile. I am not their mother. I’m just standing in for a day.

  “Can we build a Lego castle?” She held out a small brown paper bag, shoving it into my free hand. “A big one I could live in.”

  Reluctantly, I set Ben up in his playpen. He had somehow fallen asleep between the three steps I took from the kitchen to the living area. I secured his tiny body in a blanket, swaddling him tightly, and threw all the creepy stuffed animals out of the playpen.

  I sat down on the couch and opened the wrinkled paper bag, peeking inside. There were no more than twenty red and blue Lego pieces.

  "Addison, I'm sorry, but there's not enough here to build a really big castle. How about a really small one?"

  Tears filled her eyes. “Yes, there is. Pwease try.”

  My heart sank.

  Tipping over the bag, I poured the colored blocks into my hand. There were only sixteen of them all together, definitely not a giant castle building quantity.

  “Look, Addison,” I said softly. “There’s only a few here. I’ll only be able to make a castle fit for a fairy.”

  At the mention of the word ‘fairy’, her head snapped up. "Fairy? Real Fairies?"

  “Um.” I scratched at my chin and started building a small fairy-sized-building-shaped block thing.

  She loved it and squealed eagerly when I stuck a toothpick into one of the gaps and made a pink fairy flag for her.

  “Look, Daddy!” she yelled, running to the doorway, where unbeknownst to me, Dylan was standing watching our exchange. “Do you think a fairy will come and live inside it?” She held it out to him in her hands like a precious treasure.

  “Maybe, sweetie.”

  His voice was raw. He must of have taken a quick shower, because his hair was wet and his clothes changed—same garage type uniform, only cleaner and full of wrinkles. He blinked up at me slowly, his eyes hesitating as they searched mine.

  “You really can stay today? You don’t have anything else to do?”