“Not really.” I close my eyes and clench my stomach.
“What’s wrong?”
“My grandmother was in a car accident.” I wipe the tear rolling down my cheek.
“Sabrina.” His voice is low and comforting.
“She, um, she didn’t make it. I need to go home, Booker.” A sob escapes, and I begin to shake. “I can’t . . . I don’t want to go through this again—”
“Sabrina.” Booker’s voice is soft and full of empathy. “I’m so sorry. Do you need me to drive you to Sunnyville?”
I shake my head as if he can see me while wiping the wetness from my cheeks. “No. I’ll be fine. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. There’s so much to do. The funeral arrangements. The manor. And god knows what else Nonna had.”
“Take as much time as you need,” he says. There’s a heaviness in my chest as I recall a similar conversation with Booker several years ago. I stand and walk over to the window. The sky’s dark blue and purple hues fill my view. Now it’s just me and Gabby that’s left.
“The lab is backed up. So, if you need me to work remotely for any emergencies—”
“Absolutely not!” Booker cuts me off.
“But I’m the lead investigator on most of the cases.”
“I don’t care. Take care of yourself first. Don’t worry about us. We can handle it here. I’ll get the team up to speed . . . and Sabrina?”
“Sir?” I answer.
“If you need anything, and I mean anything, you call me without hesitation. Do you understand? That’s an order, not a request.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Cut that shit out.” His voice is stern. “I am not telling you this as your boss, but as your friend. We are here for you and Lily. Take care, and I will call you later to check on you.”
“Thank you, Booker.”
We hang up, and I take one last look in Lily’s small vanity mirror on her dresser, wiping the wetness on my face before making my way out to the kitchen. The short walk through the living room feels like a mile.
What do I say to my little girl who knows nothing about death? How do I explain that Nonna will not be here for Christmas or give her another unicorn on her birthday?
“Mommy, Mommy! Look at me!” Lily is spinning on the barstool, her chestnut curls mussed all over her face. “Auntie Rocky dared me to spin really fast without falling and with pizza in my mouth and . . .” She pauses, angling her head as she looks at the luggage before her bright blue eyes meet mine. “Are we going on a trip?”
Rochelle is Auntie Rocky to Lily. Actually, she’s Rocky to all of us because she’s feisty. Not only is she my coworker, one of the best female operatives on our team, but she’s also my roommate and Lily’s godmother. She may be petite, but those fists of fury are no match for even the strongest of men.
“First, I don’t think you should be spinning. You’ll get sick.” I narrow my eyes at Rocky for allowing her to do that. Rocky lets Lily do practically anything when I’m not around. Case in point—there’s a string of cheese hanging from Lily’s mouth and pizza sauce on her rosy cheeks.
When I started working at KSIG, Rocky and I immediately connected. Besides my grandmother and sister, Rocky is the other person who knows about the one-night stand that brought me Lily.
Rocky has been in Lily’s life since the beginning. She came to every ultrasound appointment and was my Lamaze class partner. Rocky even witnessed Lily’s first steps. Today, she’s still actively involved—taking Lily to Tiny Tigers Taekwondo class twice a week and for ice cream afterward at Frosty Cow.
“Lil, thanks for throwing me in the fire,” Rocky says as she wipes the pizza sauce from her face with a napkin.
“Yes, Buttercup, we need to go see . . .” I quickly wipe the wetness from underneath my eyes because we aren’t going to see her. Nonna’s gone. “Eat your pizza, and we’ll go as soon as you’re done,” I finish. She’s such a mess. Her brown curly waves barrel down her small frame, her blue eyes sparkling, and with a smile so tender, she melts my heart every time I look at her.
“Can I bring Astra?” she asks around a mouthful of pizza.
“She’s ready to go whenever you are,” I tell her, holding up her unicorn and resting it on the bags.
“Can Auntie Rocky come too?” Lily’s eyes are beaming.
“No, baby girl. Rocky has to work. Remember, she’s going to work for that famous boxer, and she’ll be way too busy.”
Lily pouts and looks over to Rocky. “Promise me, Auntie. Promise me you’ll come to see me and bring Dean ‘The Beast’ Kraygen with you.”
Rocky pours more juice into her cup. “Oh, Lil, I can’t promise to bring The Beast. But I can promise I will visit you the first chance I get.”
“Can you ask him?” Lily pleads as she folds her hands. “Pretty please.”
“I will ask,” Rocky says and cups Lily’s chin. “But if he can’t, I will bring you autographed gloves. Is that okay?”
“Fine.” Lily pouts as she folds her arms across her chest.
“Lily,” I warn. “That’s not nice. Rocky will try her best . . . now, what do you say?”
Lily wraps her tiny arms around Rocky’s neck. “Thank you, Auntie Rocky. I love you to the moon.”
“And I love you back,” Rocky says before she presses a kiss to her cheek.
“Mommy, can we get ice cream after?”
“Only if you finish your dinner,” I say, throwing away my paper plate and the crust I never like to eat.
Rocky leaves her side and then moves around to the other side of the island where I’m leaning on the counter.
“Sabrina,” she whispers, looking over her shoulder to make sure Lily can’t hear. “Is everything okay?”
I shake my head. “It’s Nonna. She’s, um, she’s gone.” My voice cracks as a tear rolls down my cheek.
She pulls out her cell phone. “I’ll call Booker, tell him to give the assignment to someone else. I’m going with you—”
“No!” I snap, then lower my voice when I see Lily dart her eyes in our direction. I take hold of her hand and lead her to the living room. “No. You have to do this assignment. It’s Dean-freaking-Kraygen.”
“So what!” she scoffs. “You need me, and Booker can assign it to one of the other guys.”
“If you bail, Lily will be upset with you. She’s expecting those gloves now.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” We sit on the couch, and I take a deep breath. “I appreciate you wanting to drop everything for Lily and me. . . and I love you for that. But you have a job to do. I’ll be fine.”
“Okay, but if that douche-canoe hurts you, I swear I will be over there in a flash to kick his ass.”
“I don’t expect any less from you.” I squeeze her hand.
“If he gets out of line, remember what I taught you. Sweep the leg when he least expects it, then straddle him and smack that pretty face of his until he realizes he’s an idiot for letting you go.”
Between laughs, I say, “I don’t think there will be any sweeping, straddling, and slapping.”
My conversation with Gabby went as expected. We both cried, and she asked questions I had no answers for. On day nine of her fifteen-day cruise, she received my message just before leaving Ponta Delgada. She’ll be at sea for the next three days until the boat docks in Barcelona, and she will try to catch a flight home from there.
My sister had a rough year, and since she lives fifteen minutes from me, she was always over when her husband worked late. When she got married, it was a surprise. Gabby is not a “settle-down” kind of woman. Only married for a year, her divorce finalized a few months ago, and since then, it’s as if she’s embraced a new life or her old self and has been living the life of a free bird.
I shift in my seat as I focus on the highway. My butt is numb from driving for the last couple of hours. I glance at the rearview mirror and see Lily sleeping soundly in her booster. Thank goodness she ate all her
pizza, and I wrapped some leftovers just in case she got hungry again. I swear that little girl can eat.
In the distance, the sign Welcome to Sunnyville approaches, and I feel like a stranger in the place I used to call home. It’s been a few years since I stepped foot in this town. I regret not visiting Nonna as often as I should have. The last time I came home, Lily was only two years old.
I roll down the window and welcome the fresh, clean air while the car idles at the red light on Main Street. Boutiques and adorable shops line the road. A giggle escapes as I reminisce on the many days Callie and I strolled in these stores after school, pretending we were millionaires, so we could buy all the tchotchkes to decorate our imaginary massive mansion in the hills lining this beautiful town.
It’s almost midnight, and the streets are sparse with just a few passing cars and people strolling the sidewalks. This place is the complete opposite of San Francisco. There are no steep hills, trolley dings, or crowded streets.
I look down the street, and it’s as if there’s an unspoken curfew that the citizens of Sunnyville abide by, unlike San Francisco, a city that never sleeps. I can see why Modern Family Magazine ranked this place as one of the top ten places to raise your children.
There were many times I thought about moving back here since Lily was born. But I love my job and the city: the diversity, the food, the people, and most of all the friends I’ve made.
Sleepy Sunnyville is what I call this small town. Not much to do. He and Callie made it worthwhile to live here, and I get a little teary-eyed just thinking about the good times we had.
As I drive, the winding roads are all too familiar, and yet, there are new homes and a park that wasn’t here the last time. Memories take over my thoughts as I pass the elementary school and imagine Callie and me on the swings as the wind blew in our hair.
There’s comfort in this small town, and I’ve missed being here. I’m also fearful of what will come to the surface now that Lily is older, and my stay here will be longer.
Sabrina
Six Years Ago
“Sabrina?”
“Jesus!” I screech, the air in my chest escapes, and I nearly jump out of my skin at the deep sound of Spencer’s voice as he grips my shoulder. I was in such deep thought I didn’t hear him come up behind me.
I’ve been staring at the darkness for the last couple of hours. Feeling claustrophobic, I told my sister and Callie I needed to get out of the house. Casserole dishes, finger food, and desserts lined the kitchen counters and dining table, none of which appealed to my appetite.
So, I started walking, and I made my way back to say goodbye one last time. The tears have dried up and I’m exhausted with emotion.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, Buttercup.” Spencer steps in front of me and into the moonlight so I can see his handsome face. He’s wearing a black button-up shirt and black slacks. His dark hair is neatly combed, his smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, and even in the dark, his blue eyes glimmer.
I leap up and wrap my arms around him. My nose is in the crook of his neck, and I breathe him in. A clean, crisp cologne and laundry detergent is his signature scent. God, I’ve missed him. “You’re here. You made it. I’ve missed you, Spence.”
“Hey, Sabs?”
“Yes?” I answer, still holding him tight and not wanting to let go.
“You’re squeezing my neck, and I kind of need to breathe,” he chokes out.
Laughing, I let go and step back. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”
He has a blanket tucked under his arm, a six-pack of beer in one hand, and a brown paper bag in the other. “I brought dinner.” His voice is full of empathy.
My stomach suddenly growls, and I would recognize that smell from anywhere. Meatball sandwiches. “How did you know I would be here?” I take the blanket from him and spread it on the ground.
“I know you better than you think.” He offers a smile as I look at my friend and the man I have a hard time not being attracted to. “I stopped by the house. Gabby told me you took a walk. So I figured you would be here.” He clears his throat as he lifts the bag in his hand. “You hungry?”
I nod and glance at the brown bag. “If that’s what I think it is, how could I say no?”
Spencer chuckles as he sits next to me on the blanket. He pulls out the sandwiches and hands me one. We spend the next thirty minutes enjoying the subs and the beers. We trade memories of my parents and talk about what we would be doing right now if they were still alive.
“The NFL draft starts in a couple of weeks,” I say. “When I was in college, and even after I graduated, Dad and I made it a point to be on the phone the entire first round. We even had running bets. For every time he lost, he added twenty bucks to my jar, and I’d collect it when I came home.” I softly laugh as I wipe a fallen tear.
“And when you lost?” Spencer asks, nudging my shoulder with his.
“He made me promise to come and visit. Dad knew I loved being in the city, and my visits home were becoming few and far between. But he always told me I was special and too important to be settling in this small town, that I was meant for something bigger, and I needed to find it.”
“And tell me the best memory you had with your mom.”
I smile as my chest tightens, and a tear stings my eye. “Mom is just like Nonna. Always ready with unsolicited advice, unconditional love, and she made the best Tiramisu.”
“Isn’t that a requirement for Italian women?” We raise our bottles, and we toast. “To Italian women who can cook.”
I laugh. “And to my dad, who loved their chaotic ways.” I take a sip of the beer. “Nonna once told me a story of how much she hated Dad. When my parents started dating, found out Mom was pregnant with me, and then they got married, Nonna went ballistic. But after some time, Nonna saw how much Dad was in love with my mom.” Tears wet my cheeks. “I really miss them, Spence. I don’t know what I’m going to do without them.”
He wraps his arms around me. “I know it’s going to be tough. But you are a lot stronger than you think you are. Gabby and Nonna will need your strength.”
“I-I don’t know if I can do it.” My lips quiver, and the words muffle in his shirt. “It just feels like the world is worse without them in it. They had this love that brightened the darkness.”
“They were definitely special.” His fingers comb through my hair. Just being here with him is healing. He’s my peace and my happy place. “One thing I know that they’d tell you is how proud they are of the woman you’ve become.”
Spencer shifts slightly, his arm wraps around my shoulder, and I quickly look into his eyes as they stare straight ahead. He’s deep in thought, and I can tell something is weighing on his mind.
“Spencer?” I ask, resting my head on his shoulder. “What are you thinking about?”
“I’ve got a lot on my mind, that’s all,” he explains, kissing the top of my head.
“Anything you want to talk about?”
“Not now,” he deters, and it’s my cue that he doesn’t want to talk about what’s bothering him. “Today is about you and your parents.” He takes in a deep breath. “Sorry I didn’t make it to the funeral. I was in court for a case I was working on—”
I shake my head. “I understand completely.” I’m in the same line of work. Detectives visit the lab wanting the root cause of death on the victims they’re investigating. I’ve even appeared in court to give my expert advice.
“I met your boss at the house.” He clears his throat. “And what is it they do again? Mall security?” he teases, and I slap his chest playfully.
“Knox Security Intelligence Group is nothing to mock, Spence. We are a highly respectable company, and our services are in demand.” I roll my eyes because law enforcement, like Spencer, thinks private security companies are wannabes. “Clients hire us for consultation, to be their protective detail, and even help solve crimes.”
“Remind me how you got this job.”
I shrug. “Knox’s daughter, Fabiola, was my roommate in college, and she told me about an opening I might be interested in at her father’s company. And the rest is history.”
“That’s right.” He chuckles at the story I’ve told him several times. “Do you like it?”
“I do. Work is busy, the pay is great.”
“So it doesn’t have anything to do with the good looking guys I met back at the house?”
I laugh. “Good looking? Do I detect a hint of jealousy, Spence?”
“Not even,” he scoffs. “It just looks like you’re working for the Magic Mike cast instead of former military and law enforcement.”
“Well, I assure you, they are very professional. Well, except for Tyco. He keeps asking me out ever since my break-up with Wayne.”
“Tyco? Is that even a name?” he asks as he rolls his eyes and glides past the mention of Wayne’s name. Spencer always despised Wayne and said he was no good for me.
“Tyson Cooper.” I chuckle. “Tyco is his nickname. They all have them.”
“And what’s your code name?” He takes a sip of beer. “I hope they aren’t using my name for you.” Buttercup, the nickname he gave me after I dared him to sit and watch The Princess Bride, and he’s been calling me that ever since.
“No, I don’t have one since I’m in the lab and not in the field like the rest of the team.” I clear my throat. “Knox is always looking for good men. If you are ever interested—”
“I appreciate the offer, Buttercup, but I just made detective, and I like my job too. I don’t have any Magic Mikes, but there are a few hot female officers that know how to handle a baton.”
I straighten and smack him in his stomach. “You are such a pervert.”
“What can I say? I’m a guy and I like a girl in a uniform.” He smiles. “Besides, I like Los Angeles, and I have the beach as my backyard.”
“Well, I heard you have the couch tonight,” I say. Aunt Rose turned Spencer’s bedroom into a craft room and a mini-store of all the little things she sells online.
“Nope.” He shakes his head. “I got a room at the inn. I didn’t want to stay with my parents. Mom will smother, and Dad will get on my case for quitting baseball.”
Distracted: An Everyday Heroes Novel (The Everyday Heroes World) Page 3
