by E M Lindsey
Joe had been texting him non-stop for the last twenty-four hours, but Will was resolutely ignoring the man. He just didn’t have the energy for it. He was going to have to drag himself up off the floor in a few hours and begin baking for the day, which would take every ounce of attention he had left to give. Holland and her best friend had been peppering the neighborhood with flyers and word-of-mouth advertising for the Grand Opening, and he knew they were influential.
It didn’t stop his worry, of course. His head baker, Aaron, would be there at three to start bread-prep, and the rest of the staff would arrive promptly at four-thirty. But, what if it was all pointless? What if they opened the doors at the stroke of five am and nothing happened?
Crickets, for the entire day. Not a soul interested. What if he didn’t sell a single cup of coffee?
His spiraling thoughts were interrupted yet again by his phone buzzing, though this time it was a call. He briefly watched the little device dance across the tiles before picking it up and staring at the number. It was a California area code, and the sight of it made worry light up under his skin. It was too damn late for a telemarketer, and there was no way his parents would be calling him.
“Please, just let it be a wrong number,” he murmured aloud before hitting the answer button and pressing the phone to his ear. “Hello?”
There was a long pause, then a person cleared their throat. “Hello, I’m looking for William Rahman.” There was a no-nonsense feel to the man’s tone, which told Will everything he didn’t want to know.
“Yeah. Yes. Speaking,” Will said, trying to hide the faint tremor in his voice.
“I’m sorry to disturb you so late, Mr. Rahman. My name is Detective Rodriguez and I’m with the San Jose police department. We were just now able to acquire your number, and I’m afraid I have some bad news.”
Will closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall, because he knew. He knew it had to be both of them, because a detective wouldn’t be calling him if there was anyone else to deliver the news. “Uh.” He cleared his throat. “Yes, okay. What’s this regarding?”
“This afternoon, at approximately twelve-fifteen pm, the small plane your father was piloting went down in an airfield. He and your mother were pronounced dead at the scene, and the reason for the crash is still being investigated.” Detective Rodriguez delivered the news like he was telling someone their car would need a new air filter.
Will licked his lips, taking a moment to see if grief or panic would set in, but nothing happened. He checked himself to see if he was just numb from shock, but if he was, he couldn’t tell the difference. “I have a sister,” he finally said, the first real coherent thought he’d been able to voice since Detective Rodriguez began. “Was she…uh…was she with them?”
“No, she was with a caregiver at the time. That’s the other reason I’m calling. She’s been placed in temporary care for the time being, but CPS has informed me your father left instructions that in the event he and his wife were to pass, then she would be relegated to your care.”
If there ever was a moment to feel shock, it was that one. “Me,” he said flatly. “That can’t be right. I…my father hasn’t spoken to me since he disowned me and cut me off almost eight years ago.”
The detective let out a little sigh. “I’m sorry, Mr. Rahman, but I don’t know any of the details. I offered to make this call as a courtesy, but any custody disputes aren’t with my department.”
“No,” Will said, his breath leaving him all at once. “No, of course not. I…sorry. I understand that. Do you have a number I could call or…?”
“Of course,” Rodriguez said, sounding a little more contrite and sympathetic. Will forced himself to stand so he could reach the register, and as the detective rattled off the name and number of his sister’s case-worker, he jotted it all down. “Do you know when you’ll be able to head out here to retrieve her? We may need to speak with her one more time before she’s transferred to your state.”
Will blinked, his hand splayed on the counter top, the reality of the situation hitting him like a freight train. “I don’t…I wasn’t prepared for this. I’m sorry, but I haven’t spoken to either of my parents in almost a decade. I’ve never even met my sister. I had no idea why they’d…why I would be…” He trailed off and let out a rough breath.
There was a heavy silence, then Rodriguez sighed. “I understand. Just let me know when you can, Mr. Rahman.”
There was a short exchange of polite words which came automatically, then the call ended, and Will found himself backing up against the coffee bar, sliding down to the floor. His parents were dead. His parents. Were dead. In truth, he’d tried to prepare himself for when the time came years before. When it was obvious neither one of them would make any move to reconcile with him, Will would lay in his bed at night and consider each and every possible reaction to learning that they were gone.
Never once, not in any of his morbid imaginings, did he consider his parents would leave him with Molly. He couldn’t wrap his mind around it. It didn’t make sense. He knew his mother had distant relatives that would take her in—relatives Molly had probably met and gotten to know. His father’s side were all in India, but even that would seem a more logical choice than him.
What was he supposed to tell this girl? “Hi, Molly, I’m your brother, the guy mom and dad hated with a passion. I’m here to pack you up and move you halfway across the country to live with a total stranger.”
Yeah, he was sure that would go over well with a grieving child.
Glancing at the time, he realized calling the caseworker so late wasn’t the best idea, but he also knew he wouldn’t be able to wait. Whatever happened, he still had a business to run in a few hours. He’d have to check this chaos at the door and somehow get through his day before dealing with the firestorm that had now become his life. And the only way he’d be able to do that was by making contact with someone.
And hell, maybe there was a misunderstanding. Maybe his parents had a close family friend named Will who would take the girl in, and the case worker had just assumed that Will was him. There had to be some logic in all of this.
Will entered the number into his phone, stared at it for a good thirty seconds, then hit call. He pressed the phone to his ear, and he couldn’t decide if he wanted the woman to pick up or ignore him. Ignoring him wouldn’t make the problem go away, but delaying the inevitable might make it possible for them to find some other person to take the girl in. Unfortunately, his luck was what it was.
“Brienne Shaw,” came an exhausted voice on the other end of the line.
Will cleared his throat. “Ms. Shaw? My name is Will Rahman…”
“Oh,” she said, and suddenly sounded far more alert. He heard the sounds of blankets shuffling, and she cleared her throat. “Mr. Rahman. I take it Detective Rodriguez was able to reach you?”
“He did. We just finished speaking now. I’m sorry to call you so late,” he told her, a little relieved at how calm her voice sounded.
“No, no, I understand. That’s what my work line is for. You must be so worried about Molly, and I want to assure you she’s in good hands right now,” Shaw said in a rush.
Will shook his head. “I…no. I mean, yes,” he fumbled. “I mean, of course I was worried. I just…there has to be a mistake.”
Shaw was silent a moment. “What do you mean a mistake?”
“I mean, I’ve never met my sister. My parents disinherited me almost eight years ago, Ms. Shaw. I just don’t understand why I was named guardian.”
“Oh, I,” Shaw said, fumbling a little. “That,” she stopped to clear her throat. “There was no indication of that in your father’s guardianship documents,” she finished. “They weren’t legally binding without your signature, of course, so Molly’s welcome to stay in foster care. There’s plenty of room in the group home for her if you’re not willing to take her.”
“Wait,” Will breathed out, the reality of Molly’s situation hi
tting him. “No. No, I don’t want her in foster care. Just, is there seriously no one else in the family who can step in? Someone she actually knows?”
“We can attempt to make contact with other relatives, but I was made to understand most of them are in Bangladesh?”
“My dad’s side,” Will said impatiently. “My mom should have someone here in the States. I mean…I don’t know what I mean. I’m sorry, this is a lot.”
“I understand,” Shaw said very softly. “This is very sudden, and I can’t imagine what you’re going through. We just want what’s best for Molly. If that’s not with you, we can make other arrangements.”
“Where is she now?” he asked, guilt threatening to choke him.
“Right now? She’s with a family that often takes in children who recently lost parents. It’s a temporary situation, of course. They help out until more permanent arrangements can be made.”
“Can you try to find someone on my mom’s side of the family?” he made himself ask. “It’s just…I’m opening a new café tomorrow, and I live in Colorado which is so far from where she’s at. She has no idea who I am and…”
“Actually,” Shaw interrupted, “the first thing she asked me was when her brother was coming to pick her up. So, she has the expectation that should anything like this happen, you’d be the one to take her.”
That hit Will like a physical blow, and if he hadn’t been sitting already, he would have dropped to the ground. “I didn’t know.”
“Mr. Rahman, I’m not sure I’m comfortable making any decision where Molly is concerned before sitting down and having a long and frank discussion about the expectations of her care. Apart from the obvious rift you had with your family,” her tone went a little softer at that, “Molly’s experienced a traumatic loss.”
“I know,” Will said very quietly. “I know. Look I…I need a few days. I realize that makes me the biggest jerk in the world, but my café’s grand opening is literally in three hours, and I need to arrange someone to take over for me so I can make a trip out there.”
Shaw was quiet a moment, then said, “I need to speak to my supervisor, but we may be able to arrange for Molly to come out there along with me, and limit your need to travel. I do appreciate the time and effort it takes for you to run a successful business, and I know this situation is complicated. That is, if you want to even consider taking her.”
“I do,” he found himself saying, and was even more startled by the fact that he meant it. “Of course I do. She’s my sister and she doesn’t need to believe her brother wouldn’t want her. Not after all this.”
“Let me get back to you,” Shaw said, sounding much kinder now. “It will take a few days to get authorization, and we’ll need to be in contact with the agency there in Denver to potentially transfer Molly’s case if we decide that residing with you is the best course of action.”
“Okay. I appreciate that, Ms. Shaw. You have no idea how much.”
“I think I might,” she said, a hint of teasing in her tone. “Cases like these aren’t always my job, but I’ve seen enough of them, and I know what it means to keep family together. I’ll be in touch.”
“Thank you,” Will said. He hung up a moment later, then let his forehead fall to his crooked knees and sat there until he heard his first morning baker’s key in the lock.
Chapter Four
Sage felt his cheeks ache with the strain of his fake grin, the expression masking the tornado of self-deprecation happening on the inside. It was the third time that month he’d gone out for coffee only to realize it was meant to be a date, and he was running out of ways to let people down gently. In truth, the whole, ‘Yeah, see, my fiancé died and I’m just not ready to get back out there,’ was an effective tool only until they learned that his fiancé had been gone nearly six years. For him, it felt like no time at all. He could remember standing in the doorway of the ICU room watching nurses and doctors frantically trying to stop Teddy from coding like it was yesterday. His nightmares were far less frequent than they used to be, but when he did have them, they were as vivid as the day he’d lived through.
Only, explaining that to people didn’t ever go well. He was forced to then punt the litany of, ‘But shouldn’t you be ready to move on by now,’ and, ’Don’t you think he would have wanted you to be happy?’ from well-meaning assholes who had no idea how insensitive their words sounded. It left his stomach curdled with a fresh rage he had trouble keeping down, but part of him was starting to wonder if it was just because they were right.
In truth, he knew that the answer to the second question was an unequivocal yes. Teddy would want him to be happy. They’d just gotten engaged, and one night—both a little drunk and a little stoned—Teddy had rolled over and told him, “If I die before you, you’d better not pick some cochon to replace me just to stay miserable. If you do, I’ll haunt you and make your life so wretched, you’ll be single forever.” Sage had thought it was the most hilarious, and probably the most Teddy thing he’d ever heard. He didn’t take it to heart right then—he didn’t ever think he’d have to. But he couldn’t deny it was in the back of his mind every time he considered his position on the accidental dates. Like the one now—a guy named Jason who had let Luke work on his arm for a small piece as part of Luke’s apprenticeship. Jason lived in Boulder, had a neck-beard and a man-bun, though Sage could overlook those things easily if his personality wasn’t the epitome of faux Colorado Hipster.
Jason had asked him for coffee at the new shop which had been open all of three days, and Sage was excited because he was getting a little tired of the coffee cart parked outside of the shop. The new place was called Masala which boasted an authentic masala chai recipe, and Sage hadn’t been able to ignore the fragrant Indian spices from the café’s open doorway the first few times he’d walked by.
He’d spotted the owner—a tall, gorgeous Indian guy with a pompadour and jeans that fit his ass like they were painted on—hauling boxes through the café’s back door. He’d almost said hi once, but a smarmy blonde dude had walked up shortly after, and he’d watched the owner’s face go from work-stressed to personal-stressed. As much as Sage would have liked to help, he really didn’t have it in him to get involved. He could still hear their raised voices as he hurried back to his shop, and part of him kicked himself for not sticking around to make sure the guy was okay.
Coffee with Jason was the perfect excuse to initiate conversation, though. It was late enough, and the only people in there were the handful of grad students Sage recognized from their mid-thesis break-down tattoos they got during walk-in hours. He bypassed them and hurried to the counter, a little dismayed to see that the bakery window was almost entirely empty.
“Sorry,” came a voice from behind the glass.
Sage perked up, then frowned as the owner stood up straight, swiping the back of his hand across his brow. “I didn’t say anything,” Sage told him.
The guy laughed, shaking his head. “You didn’t have to. I know the, oh crap, they’re out of all the good stuff, face when I see it. I can’t really afford waste so early on, so I don’t bake for leftovers.”
Jason cleared his throat beside Sage, and he turned, having momentarily forgotten the guy was with him. “Can we like, order our coffees now?” Jason asked, a little edge to his words. Sage bristled and stepped in front of him, not liking the way the owner flinched and looked contrite at Jason’s tone.
“Yeah, no problem,” the owner said. “What can I get you?”
Sage glanced back at Jason, then stuck his hand out before the asshole could open his fat mouth again. “Hi. I’m Sage, and I’m sort of your neighbor. I have a stall a few doors down at the tattoo shop, Irons and Works.”
The guy looked startled, his gaze flickering from Sage to Jason, then he returned the handshake. “Hi. I’m Will.” He gestured down at his name tag which was partially obscured by the neck-strap of his apron, and he adjusted it so Sage could read the print clearly. “Which uh, you might have
been able to see if I had been paying attention to my uniform.”
Sage chuckled. “I probably would have figured it out eventually,” he teased. “And I’m really really fucking hoping you have more of your masala chai left. I’ve been smelling the spices all week and it’s killing me, dude.”
Will smiled again, biting down on his bottom lip for a long second. “Technically no, but I brewed a pot for myself in the back. I’ll be happy to share as long as you don’t tell anyone I did that.”
Sage felt something in his stomach go tingly—an unfamiliar sensation he hadn’t experienced in so many years, he didn’t recognize it right away. All the same, he couldn’t help his grin, or the way he couldn’t stop looking at Will’s soft smile. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
“I’ll take coffee. Black. Hopefully not burnt shit like that kiosk serves outside,” Jason said, talking over whatever Will was going to say next. “Not that I have any hope. No one below Portland can make a decent cup.”
Will’s face went carefully blank, his gaze slowly trailing over to Jason. “Sounds like you haven’t expanded your horizons beyond the United States West Coast.”
Sage almost laughed. It took every ounce of his self-control to keep it inside, and part of him wondered why he bothered trying to spare the feelings of the douche standing beside him.
“Uh, excuse you, but I’m extremely worldly,” Jason sneered, crossing his arms. “My parents used to take me to Australia every summer, and we spent a lot of time absorbing like, their native cultures and beliefs.”
“How progressive of you,” Will deadpanned.
Sage was half in love as he turned to Jason. “You know what, let me get this. Why don’t you grab a table?”
Jason stared Will down for another half second before giving a sharp nod and strolling to the furthest table from the coffee bar. When he was out of earshot, Sage sagged forward a bit and started to dig his wallet out of his pocket, stopping only when Will reached over and laid a gentle hand on his arm.
