I checked on the kids. They always slept easily. At least tomorrow was Saturday, and I didn't have to go in, Sunday either. That gave me two days to figure out who could watch them while I worked on Monday. Maybe Sheri will be better. Maybe her mother will help me.
I called the hospital, but the nurse said they released her sometime that afternoon.
Nobody bothered to tell me?
I tossed the phone limply down. Who the hell was I kidding? Myself, that’s who. I slumped down onto the couch, the loose spring in the middle poking dangerously into the cushion, and stared at the wedding picture we’d taken right after we got out of City Hall four years ago. My eyes were on Sheri as she looked somewhere off into the distance. Her eyes were crystal clear and her smile wide, hiding all the messed up secrets I never knew she had until it was too late.
Chapter 9
Callie
Saturday, work was a shit show. The squad room was a circus packed full of animals, and I couldn't concentrate on anything I was doing. My mind was still in the house across the street from mine, playing with two of the cutest kids I ever met.
“What are you smiling at?” Ryan wheeled his chair next to me, trying to get a better look at my cell phone.
Crap. Without even realizing, I sat at my desk, staring down at a photo on my phone that I snapped of Addison holding Ben. Damn, now wasn’t a good time to hear Ryan start whining at me about this. I nudged him away with my elbow and blackened my screen.
“I wasn’t smiling,” I said, annoyed. I added an eye roll to show him how irritating he was.
“Yeah, you were. Smiling like an idiot. I even saw teeth, without your lips being all snarled up, like they usually are.”
“Jackass. God, Ryan, sometimes I just want to…” I narrowed my eyes at him. “Make sure you’re an organ donor, because if I one day snap on you—”
“Of course I’m an organ donor.” He smirked at me and gestured to himself. “Who wouldn’t want a piece of this?”
Typical Ryan Cage answer. “You’re not getting the point. Go away.” I laughed at him.
“You’re not getting the point, Pop-Tart.” He plucked the phone out of my hands and held it between us. His voice took on a perceptually low whisper. “You’re sitting in front of me, staring at a picture of two children, and I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
I stared back blankly at him. My first instinct was to scream at him as heat rose to my cheeks, but I knew deep down somewhere inside of me he was just trying to protect me from my thoughts.
But really, how did he think I would get hurt?
“Cage, I’m good. I got this.” I thumbed in the passcode on my screen and showed him the picture. “These kids are precious, and if I could help them in any way I can, I will. Nothing more than me doing my job.” I stood up and slipped my phone into my pocket. I needed this conversation to end. “I have to go get Kannon’s approval on something. I’ll catch you later.”
I didn’t look at him as I stood up. I didn't want to see the worry on his face. Ryan Cage was one of those guys who wore his feelings in his features. If he was worried about me, I didn't want to witness it. I didn't want to question myself and my motives for helping a family in need. I was good with kids, that's it.
And they needed a mom, a good mom. I would have been a good mom.
My feet tripped over each other at the thought, appalled at myself for thinking it. They had a mother, I knew they did, and I didn't believe they needed some replacement or anything…
Heat flushed through my chest, and sweat burst across my forehead. I didn’t want Ryan to be right, that there was something to be worried about. No one needed to worry about me. I was fine. I needed air.
I barged into Sergeant Kannon’s office without knocking and swung the door closed behind me in a rush. Behind his desk, Kannon choked out a surprised gasp and fumbled with something in his hands. Whatever the object was, it dropped down hard with a clank. Instantly, the small office smelled like whiskey.
“Really?” I asked, motioning to what I quickly realized was a flask.
“I’m here in the office all day. I’m not going out, and it’s only for emergencies.”
His tone was on autopilot—a repeat offender excuse—it probably wasn’t the first time he got caught drinking alcohol on job time. But I was one of his subordinates, and I was sure he was humiliated as hell because of it. I swept my eyes down submissively, feeling awful that I hadn’t knocked. It was unprofessional and demonstrated how emotional I was acting because of what Cage had said a few moments beforehand.
Around the flask, Kannon’s fingers trembled. He was either terrified – which wasn't believable in my opinion, since I once watched him smile at a perp who pulled a gun out on him – or he really, physically needed that drink. I chose the latter to believe; his breath always hinted of a severe liquid diet.
I cleared my throat and smiled half-heartedly. "If I have to keep your secret, you could at least give me a sip.”
He exhaled with a loud sigh. Sliding the flask across the desk toward me, his shoulders loosened and his lips tugged up in a small smile. "Our secret." He leaned back in his chair, folded his arms across his chest, and watched me take the tiniest sip of his drink. "So Ward, why did you just bust through my door like that?"
My throat was on fire. What the hell kind of whiskey was that?
“Cage was, uh, getting on my nerves.” I plunked the flask back down in front of him and swallowed a few times to try and get the taste out of my mouth.
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Take a seat,” he said, jutting his chin at a chair against the wall. “What’s going on?”
"Ryan is just overstepping with advice I don't need."
Kannon took a deep breath and chewed on his lower lip, “He’s worried about you in some way?”
“I helped out that Sanborn family a little. The father had no one to watch the children, so I babysat for him on my day off," I said, trying to keep my voice from wavering. “It was nothing.”
“He thinks you’re interested in the husband?” His voice rose in pitch as his eyebrows shot straight up. I felt the color rising to my cheeks. Who said anything about the husband?
“No, no, not at all!” I said, this time my voice was unwavering. "He doesn't want me to get too close to the children and become too attached." I waved my hand in the air in a no big deal gesture. "I can barely remember what the father looked like." Okay, so I'm a liar. He was probably the hottest man I have ever seen. But who cares? That’s not what Ryan was freaked out about.
“Are you making this personal? With the kids?” he asked.
“How can I not? There are two innocent children involved. And honestly, I just babysat them for a few hours, that’s it.”
He took a long pull from his flask and cleared his throat with a thoughtful expression. "So what is Ryan anxious about, then?"
“I don’t know. I mean, he’s being an idiot, really.”
“What else is new?” he mumbled under his breath. “Listen, I know you, Callie. You won't stay away from a family that’s in need. You’ll go and check up on them. That’s okay.” He scratched at the back of his neck. “The husband seems like a decent guy, too. Felt bad for him, watching him in the hospital.”
I nodded quietly, not wanting to give him any indication I had any thoughts about the husband.
His eyes flickered up to mine, and he tilted his head a bit, as if he was trying to figure out a puzzle. “Just be careful, okay? Protect your heart.”
Protect my heart? Protect it from what? “Oh Boss, you should know I don’t have one of those.” I lost that shit the minute I lost my uterus.
He barked out a laugh. “You have one of the biggest hearts I know on this job, and you always do the right thing. And if the right thing is helping out this family every once in a while—" he said, standing up from his chair and tossing his secret flask into a locked compartment of his desk. "It's a non-issue. You know Cage, he's in everyone's ass because he t
hinks he's the shit. Ignore him, and do what you do best."
I drove home, thinking about everything Kannon said. He was absolutely right about Cage; I should just ignore him. I watched the kids for a few hours, so what? I was a good cop—a good neighbor, even—that’s it. Ryan needed to deal with his own issues, like learning how to keep his mouth closed. If I weren't stuck in traffic, I would call him and give him a tongue-lashing like he'd never had before.
New York City traffic sucked balls.
Exiting the Parkway, I spotted a fast food restaurant, and my stomach rumbled loudly. I don’t think I’ve eaten anything since breakfast this morning. I pulled the car into the drive-thru lane and ordered way more food than I needed for just myself. I wonder if the Addison ate dinner yet? Would she like chicken fingers and fries? It wouldn’t hurt to get some food and bring it over. Who says no to free food?
Ten minutes later, I found myself standing on the Sanborn’s doorstep with two huge bags overstuffed with chicken fingers, fries, cheeseburgers, desserts— probably like two or three of everything on the menu. My arms were so full, I had to use my foot to kick at the doorbell.
It took me three tries to get it.
The door flung open to a wild-haired Dylan holding a screaming red-faced Ben and one screaming red-faced Addison attached to his leg. It was a total snot fest inside.
“Everything okay?” I asked, trying not to laugh.
"Sure. Everything is just…perfect." The tight lips and heavy bags under his eyes gave away his true feelings.
I held up the bags and waggled my eyebrows. “Thought you might be interested in a surprise dinner.”
“Where do you keep your wings?” Dylan blurted out, pure relief washing across his expression.
“Just under my horns,” I laughed, walking inside. “Addison? Why don’t you help me set up the dinner? I’ll let you see the secret desserts I bought.”
Addison squealed and detached herself from Dylan’s leg. She ran down the small hallway into the kitchen, dragging one of the bags she grabbed from my hands behind her.
A hard tug on my shirt stopped me from following her. “Wait, Callie. I need to know. Why? Why are you helping me?”
I blinked up at him. Ben sniffled softly on his shoulder; his little chubby fists clenched tight. "I was just going through the drive-thru, and I simply wondered if Addison liked chicken fingers and fries. And here I am."
He swallowed hard, his eyes darting back and forth between mine.
He was thinking something differently, wasn't he? He thought this was pity or something dark. I shrugged it off like it was nothing.
"I liked playing with the kids, Dylan. I thought about becoming a teacher when I was younger."
Ben picked up his head and reached his arms out for me.
I gave him a big smile and looked back at Dylan for reassurance. Dylan nodded and grabbed the bag of food from my hands as I took Ben into a big soft hug.
“Hey, there big guy,” I whispered.
"What made you decide against teaching?" he asked, watching me and Ben closely.
“I wasn’t good at school. I could never sit still and listen. Besides, protecting people fit me better.”
We walked into the kitchen as Ben quieted down and nestled into my chest. With my free hand, I started unpacking the bags and placing food everywhere.
“How’s Sheri feeling? Better?”
Dylan froze in the doorway; his features turned stoic and pale. His eyes flashed to Addison and backed up toward me. Okay. Something must have happened he didn’t want to talk about in front of Addison.
He didn’t explain; he just looked at me, offering only a hard, grave shake of his head.
“Can I have soda? I want soda,” Addison asked, looking up at her father with big puppy dog eyes.
“Addison, you know I don’t like you drinking soda. It’s not good for your teeth,” he said, agitated.
“But Daddy!” she whined. "I'm a big girl, and I want soda."
“Why would you want fairy repellent?” I asked nonchalantly as I unwrapped a cheeseburger with my free hand.
“Fairy ‘pellent?” she asked quietly.
“Yeah. Fairy repellent. You know? The sugary stuff that keeps all the fairies away.” I bit into the burger and chewed thoughtfully, making sure I had her full attention. "Sugary things like soda can give little girls cavities, and then when your baby teeth fall out, the tooth fairies don't want them, so they don't visit."
“Oh, okay. Milk, pwease,” she said, holding the small bottle that came with her meal up to Dylan to open.
The rest of the meal was uneventful. Addison told stories about princesses and fairies until all the food placed in front of her was eaten and her eyelids drooped with exhaustion.
“Somebody skipped her nap today,” Dylan whispered to me. “Ben didn’t sleep much either.”
Ben slept then, puffing out baby snores on my shoulder.
“I’ll put him in his crib for you. Maybe you should carry Addison to bed?”
We closed the lights as we moved the sleeping children through the house. I only stayed for a few moments, watching Ben breathe, then found Dylan sitting on the floor in the middle of the hallway between both children’s rooms.
“You okay?” I said, lowering myself to the floor across from him.
It was one of those narrow halls, and our limbs seemed to touch in too many places all at once. I scooted over to kill the strange zipping electricity I felt, but only a little.
“No.” His voice trembled.
“What happened with Sheri?” I asked softly.
"I don't even know," he sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face. "She got discharged without anyone telling me. I keep calling her mother, but no one is answering."
“Jesus, really? I’m sorry you have to deal with all the worrying.”
I remembered his face when he first found out she was missing, and then the agonizing way he hugged me, a stranger, when they were wheeling her into the ambulance. My chest tightened painfully.
“I’m just…it feels surreal almost. I’m just lost, out of control, and I’m not the one with the drug problem.”
“Yeah, well, one of the worst things in the world is having to watch someone you love drown in the storm they made all by themselves.” I took a deep, slow breath and shook my head. “It fucks with your head. Changes you completely,” I said with a sharp, bitter laugh.
His eyes met mine, and for a moment something seemed to flash across them. Was it anger? Hate? Fear? I couldn't pinpoint it. Whatever it was disappeared quickly, and his gaze dropped down to his hands, his fingers becoming his primary focus. It didn't seem like talking came easily to him. I wondered if he always took care of Sheri and if anyone had ever taken care of him. Did he even have friends to go to? I guessed no, since he couldn't get anyone to watch his kids.
“Are you saying that from your own experience?” He still couldn’t look at me, but now it was my turn to look down at my hands.
“I was in a serious relationship once…” I stopped and took a deep breath. This wasn’t a story I ever freely told. “He, uh…” Fucking hell, I wanted to vomit instead of speak. “Let’s just say, he had some lifestyle issues as well.”
“Drugs?” he whispered.
I leaned my head back against the wall, not wanting to answer. My story had nothing to do with Dylan's, but when you're trying to hold on to hope, you want to hear anything that will give it to you. I shrugged my shoulders, "Drugs, crime, gambling, women; you name it, he drowned himself with it."
"So you left him, and your life is better now, right?" His words were clipped and dry, dripping with anger. "That's what all the guys at work think I should do, just leave and—”
I looked straight into his eyes. “Actually, I didn’t.” I pulled my knees in and wrapped my arms around them. “I stayed. I stayed through everything. Overdoses. Suicide attempts. Arrests. Loan sharks.” I smiled so I wouldn’t cry and squeezed my hands into fists to give myself t
he strength to speak. “I stayed until I was eight months pregnant with his child, and that’s when he left me.”
“What?” His lips pressed into a tight line.
Tears stung the corner of my eyes, and I stopped to clear my throat and give another shitty smile. “And my prize for being the most understanding, forgiving girlfriend was a stillborn child and the complete removal of my uterus, which ruptured when I ran after him, and he pushed me away."
I must have told this story thousands of times in therapy and support groups, to friends or strangers. But somehow, talking about it with Dylan was different. It felt too raw, too personal—it felt intimate.
He reached out and gently touched a hand to my arm. “Callie. I’m so sorry.”
The complete irony of the situation felt too thick between us, him trying to comfort me when I was the one who was trying to be the one helping him through a difficult time. And it was nice just to hear an I’m so sorry, instead of the venomous advice I’d get from most people. Most people would hear my story, then proceed to tell me how they thought my ex deserved to die or what they would do to him if they ever met him.
I locked eyes with Dylan—waiting for him to say something—waiting to hear the disgust and hatred for a man he never knew. Expecting the worst, I stayed quiet, tension hardening my body, ready to listen to whatever harsh words he’d throw at me.
His fingers gently pulled at my arms, dragging me across the floor toward him. Then his arms wrapped around me in a hug, a huge, warm, consoling embrace.
“What happened then? You…you still loved him, didn’t you?” he asked, leaning his chin over the top of my head.
Finding Love (Behind Blue Lines Book 3) Page 6
