Chapter Two
The alarm clock would have been bad enough, but a crash and a curse and a loud cackle woke him up not even two hours later. Tommy swore and scrubbed his hands over his face before he ripped the covers back and shot out of bed. He wasn’t sleeping too well anyway. He’d been having dreams about Bobby McAlister standing over him in his kitchen with him on his knees. Only he wasn’t passing a twenty up to Bobby in his dreams. He was reaching a hand out, pulling open the snug-fitting jeans, and stroking Bobby’s cock, feeling its hard length pass through his fingers. Not the most restful sleep, but a lot better than going downstairs at half past four in the morning and dealing with the two useless excuses for life he had the privilege of calling his parents.
They hadn’t even managed to close the door, hadn’t made it as far as the living room. Cal and Cheryl were sprawled in the entryway, rolling around and laughing like the town idiots. A potted plant had broken and spilled out around them. Tommy cursed again, knowing how hard Carrie had worked to get those cuttings to take root and how Davey had lifted pots for her to plant them in. It was a nice little thing she wanted to do after learning about plants and seeds and shit at school. Leave it to Cal and Cheryl to ruin something as simple and innocent as that.
Clenching his fists as he stood over the two, Tommy gave a light kick to his father. “Shut up,” he said, reaching to close the door. He jumped back when he saw a stranger on the porch.
The guy looked more embarrassed than dangerous. “I just need my fare.” He’d tucked his hands into his jacket pockets and looked at Cheryl and Cal as if they were a freak show.
“You’re shitting me.” Tommy was talking to the cabbie, but he glared down at his father and stepmother.
“I… no, they got out and said someone inside would pay. I….”
“You must be new,” Tommy muttered, shaking his head. Anyone within a fifty-mile radius of their house knew better than to give a lift to his parents without seeing the money first.
“Only been in town a few weeks,” the driver said, still staring at Cal and Cheryl as they tried to get up. Neither of them managed it.
Tommy leaned over Cheryl and stuck his fingers under the top edge of her blouse. He found a small wad of bills tucked in her bra strap. She protested loudly and slapped at his hand, but Tommy ignored her.
When he glanced over his shoulder at the driver, Tommy noticed his wide eyes and brows reaching for his thinning hairline. He couldn’t bring himself to care what a stranger thought of him or the rest of his family. “How much?”
“Uh, eighteen eighty. They promised me a good tip, but….”
Tommy counted out thirty dollars from the money and passed it over. “Promise is a promise, but word to the wise”—he nodded his head at his parents—“they ever hail you again, ask to see the money up front. You might not be so lucky next time, and it’s a pain in the ass when you gotta call the cops for this kind of shit.”
The cabbie muttered a thank-you and practically ran down the steps, as if he was escaping with his life and nothing else. Tommy could identify. Cal and Cheryl had that effect on people.
“Gimme my money back,” Cheryl demanded in a whiny slur from his feet. “I need that.”
“Yeah, well too damn bad, your kids need it more.” Tommy had never been so grateful for a little cash. With nearly eighty dollars left, he could take the twins to the clinic as soon as it opened.
“You give that back!” she hollered, swiping at him. “You don’t know what I had to do for that!”
Cal seemed completely unaware of anything going on around him, and Tommy wondered what else was in his system because drink had never made him quiet before. He turned his attention back to his stepmother. “What? Sucking cock out at the truck stop? Yeah, I know, and I don’t give a shit. The babies are sick, and they need to see the doctor, so consider this your good fucking deed for the day.” He was furious, whispering down into her face in the hope that the twins might sleep a little longer. Cold rage slid through him knowing they were out getting shitfaced when two of their kids were hurting and sick and sad. It wasn’t new, it wasn’t a surprise, but it was the kind of thing that made him see red.
“I’m sick too! I need that.”
“Sick in the head,” he offered, still glaring down at her. “And shut the hell up because, I swear to God, you wake the twins and I’m locking you and Cal in the goddamn basement till you shrivel up and die.” His tone was murderous, and Cheryl must have believed him because that was the last he heard from her all night.
As he stomped back up the stairs, he wondered to himself why he didn’t do it. Locking them in the basement seemed like a trick out of a sitcom, but hell, it would be one way around their bullshit.
Everyone was already moving when he got up again. The twins had only stirred during the Cheryl and Cal Comedy Hour, and he’d managed to get them back to sleep and catch a little more for himself.
Stepping over his parents and tripping on an enormous toy truck in the living room, Tommy was nearly run down by Carrie as she blazed past him with a piece of toast in her hand. He made his way to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. Colleen was there. The babies were sitting up in high chairs and working on small servings of oatmeal, getting more on the tray than in their mouths.
“Time is it?” he asked, stretching and reaching for his mug.
“Almost seven.” Colleen passed over a small carton of half-and-half.
Nodding toward the living room, Tommy asked, “Where’d that truck come from?”
Davey smiled proudly as he scooped more oatmeal from his bowl. “I found it.” He had just turned thirteen and his blond hair and dimples made him look a lot more innocent than he actually was.
Tommy walked over to his brother. “Found it where?”
“Other side of town,” Davey answered amiably. “It was just sitting out in someone’s yard. Figured the babies might like it.” A brotherly tap landed on the back of Davey’s head and he flinched. “What? I found it!”
“You don’t nick shit from kids. Jesus, Davey. If you’re gonna steal somethin’, get some diapers and formula.”
“I got formula.” Davey sounded indignant.
Tommy wanted to laugh. Instead, he looked sternly at Davey. “Take it back.”
“The formula?”
“The truck. Christ.”
Davey didn’t seem to appreciate the order. “But what if I get caught putting back something I got away with taking in the first place?”
He made a fair point—the damage was done—but there were those limits again, and it was bad enough Tommy let the kids steal things like food and toilet paper. Robbing someone in their own home was a line he didn’t want any of them crossing. “Take Collin with ya. He’s young enough, if you say your brother took it and he came back to return it and apologize, he’ll just get a pat on the head or a finger wagged in his face.”
Davey narrowed his eyes, but he grumbled a “Fine” as he finished his breakfast.
Looking at Colleen, Tommy asked, “Don’t you have school today? You’re not even dressed.”
“I was gonna pick up a shift at the diner. Figured I’d just ditch today.”
Tommy had made it halfway to a chair, but he stopped and went back to Colleen. “Excuse me?”
“What?” she asked distractedly as she wrote down when she’d given the twins their medicine that morning. She stuck the note on the refrigerator and looked back at Tommy. “I’m taking my GED this summer anyway. Not like it matters if I show up for class.”
“We haven’t decided that, Col, and it does matter.” He knew he didn’t have any right to tell her she was finishing high school, especially when he’d dropped out at sixteen and started working wherever and whenever he could to keep the lights on and the taxes on the house paid, but he was firm with her. He didn’t want her to ruin her chances of getting out of there. He had always hoped she would be the first of them to break the cycle.
“We need the money, Tommy.”
That was true enough. Even with her tips, she didn’t make much, and Tommy was only a couple of dollars over minimum wage. They always needed money. “It’s one more year, Colleen, Christ. Just… go to school and gimme a chance to figure something out, okay? Please.”
She sighed and looked doubtful. “Fine, but honest to God, Tommy, we’re not gonna make it another year like this.”
“I’ll find something that pays better or… something, just… we’ll work this summer, we’ll save up a little. It’ll be fine, okay?”
“All right, but it’s an option, okay?”
“No it’s not. Now get your ass ready.”
She glanced at the clock. “Shit, now I’m gonna be late.”
Tommy watched her run out of the room and let himself laugh. They were a fucked-up little clan, but they were his. That was the way he saw it, anyway.
Mikey brushed past on his way through the kitchen. Nearly fifteen, he was tall and gangly with a mop of brown curls flopping over his forehead. “Where are you taking the trashcan?” Tommy asked him.
“They’re starting to stir, and I’m not cleaning up after them again.”
“It’s your turn,” Davey told him.
Tommy could tell by the tone of Davey’s voice he was afraid Mike was going to try and get out of the chore.
“Yeah, and if this works, when it’s your turn, you remember this.” Mike tapped the can. “Find us a new one today after school. This will be the official Cheryl and Cal Puke Bin.”
He looked overly pleased with his new plan as he drummed the plastic bin and walked with a bounce in his step to the living room.
The door to the kitchen was propped open and Tommy could hear him as Mikey stood over their parents. “Hey, wake up, old man. This is for you and stepmonster, got it? Puke on the floor again, and I’m using your faces to wipe it up.”
Laughing as he sipped his coffee, Tommy wondered if he should get onto Mike about talking to them that way. He decided respect should be earned, and neither one of them was even in the running for that.
“Did you fix the wheel on the stroller?” he remembered suddenly, asking Davey if it was still usable.
“Yeah, last week, why?”
“Gotta take the kids to the doc.”
“Hundred and twenty-eight goddamn dollars and they have the balls to call it a free clinic,” Tommy muttered to the twins as he crouched in front of them. The stroller wheel had come loose again and he was trying to fix it as midday cars rushed past him. “They should call it the ‘fuck you in the ass’ clinic,” he grumbled, jamming the wheel back on and giving it a good hit. “The ‘we’ll let you die if you don’t pay up front’ clinic.” He gritted his teeth, his hand burning as he finally got the wheel back in place. “The—”
“The ‘you’re better off treating it yourself’ clinic?”
Tommy jumped at the sound of Bobby’s voice behind him. “Jesus, did they kick you off the Force or something?” He looked up at Bobby who was standing at his side as if he’d been there the whole time.
“I’m entitled to a couple days off a week, ya know.” Bobby laughed as he reached into the small paper bag he carried with him. He pulled out two cookies and passed them down to the babies.
“You really should ask before ya go passing out candy and cookies. What if the doc said they can’t have sweets, or they’re allergic, or….”
“Or you just don’t want me making nice with them?”
“Yeah, or that.” Tommy stood up and kicked the wheel once to make sure it stayed before he reached to unlock the brake.
Bobby laughed, but he sounded hurt at the same time. “Why not, Tom? What’s wrong with being nice to them?”
“I just don’t like people… swooping in, is all.” He’d started walking, hoping Bobby would continue on in the other direction, but he had no luck at all today apparently.
“I swoop?” Bobby asked, following along, nearly at Tommy’s side. “I’m a swooper now?”
“That ain’t even a word.”
“Neither is ‘ain’t.’” Bobby munched on a cookie, trying to offer one to Tommy.
“Don’t wanna get a gut, and that shit’ll rot your teeth.”
“But thanks for the offer…,” Bobby added quietly for him. “Why was the clinic a hundred and twenty-eight just to look at their ears?”
“They needed their booster shots, and they gave me some pink shit to kill the ear infection, plus I owed them twenty for last time I had to take ’em in. Shit adds up fast.”
“Did you have… I mean, is it gonna… are you…?”
“Jesus, I didn’t know you stutter.” Tommy eyed him for a minute, knowing what Bobby was getting at. “Look, I appreciate last night and you bein’ cool about shit all the time and bein’ nice to the kids and… all that shit. I do, honest to God, but… why?”
Bobby stopped when Tommy did, and he glanced down at the twins as if he’d find the answer in their faces. “Why not?” he countered, looking back up into Tommy’s eyes.
“You can’t answer a question with a question,” Tommy huffed, fidgeting with the hood of the stroller when he felt a few warm raindrops start to fall.
“I just did.” The smirk was back on Bobby’s face and Tommy wasn’t sure if he wanted to kiss it or smack it off. “Seriously, why can’t someone just be… nice?”
“Because no one is ever nice for no reason. Everyone’s got an angle, everyone’s got a reason for doin’ shit.”
Bobby made a quick buzzing sound, signaling a wrong answer. “Bullshit. Why do you do what you do? You’re twenty-two years old. You could pick up and leave, make a way for yourself, go out and have fun or go to college or… something, just for you. Instead, you act like a forty-year-old single father. You could dump it all in Colleen’s lap, but you don’t. You don’t even tell Cheryl to go fuck herself and take care of her own kids, because you and I both know the odds of those two being Cal’s are slim.” He paused for a breath, then asked, “So what’s your angle?”
Tommy looked at him for a long minute, not really having an answer. On his worst days, the days he hated himself for, he did think about just taking off, telling them all good luck and see ya! But he’d never do it, never even give it honest consideration. “It’s different with family.” Tommy was sure about that one thing if nothing else. He put his hand on the top of Max’s head under the hood of the stroller. “The family you’re given and the one you choose. It’s different.”
They started walking again, only because Tommy was still trying to escape. He cursed the fact they had one car for all eight of them.
“I still say bullshit,” Bobby told him, continuing on the same line. “It’s dark out, late at night, you see an old woman at a bus stop, face down in the mud. Her purse is open, money spilled out, she’s down for the count. Do you take the money and run or call 911?”
Tommy stopped and looked at him then, feeling a flash of anger that Bobby would even have to ask. “Call 911, asshole.”
“So what’s there to gain for you? Doing something nice like that and all.”
“That ain’t nice, that’s just… Christ, you don’t leave someone to die.”
“Okay, your neighbor, what’s her name? Farah or whatever? Her power gets cut off, you have some cash and she doesn’t, do you let her sit in the dark, or do you cover it for her till she can pay you back?”
“I cover it. She keeps an eye on the house if Colleen and I can’t get opposite shifts.”
“That’s the only reason? Really?”
“Fuck you.”
“Wow, you would have rocked debate team.”
“You still didn’t answer my question, Bobby.”
“I did, you just don’t realize it yet.”
Tommy stopped again and glared at Bobby. “Did you just call me stupid? Jesus fucking Christ, the balls!”
“I’d say more like purposely obtuse.”
“I… that’s a dressed-up way of calling me stupid.”
Bobby laughed, his smile as bright as the sun. “Not stupid, just not hearing me because you don’t want to.”
“Ya got that right.” Tommy started to walk again.
Still at Tommy’s side, Bobby said, “I just… I became a cop for a reason, ya know? I saw where I could make a difference, and I went for it.”
“So you think showing up and passing out doughnuts is gonna make a difference to us?”
“I think kindness always makes a difference. There’s not much of it around here, and it does help, yes.”
Tommy muttered under his breath, a colorful curse, then asked, “So, what, come Christmas you’re gonna be our secret Santa now? Jesus.”
A genuine bark of laughter slipped from Bobby before he said seriously, “If I thought I could do that and keep my balls for New Year’s, I would.”
“I know what you coppers make. You don’t have that kind of cash lyin’ around. And I would have your balls for it.” The image sent a quick spark of heat through Tommy, and he could feel himself flush at it, glad he was looking straight ahead with his face tipped down to avoid the rain, which was getting heavier. He could hear Bobby mumble something next to him but didn’t catch it. He hoped it was at least the end of the debate. “Where’s your car?” he asked suddenly, wondering why the guy was walking when the sky looked ready to storm.
“Back at the bakery. I felt like a walk.”
“More like you felt like harassing me.”
“That too.” Bobby laughed softly, amused.
Tommy hadn’t realized how far they’d gotten. They were nearly home now. “Speaking of, how the hell did you afford that car on your wages? You on the take, copper?” he asked as they turned up the walkway to the house.
Bobby practically snorted at that. “Me? Seriously?” He stepped up to the porch as he reached down to help lift the stroller up the front stairs. “I, uh… I live with Mom, so I have some disposable income.”
Tommy stopped halfway up the steps and laughed out loud. “You live with your mother?”
It was Bobby’s turn to narrow his eyes. “It’s not like that.” He tugged the stroller so Tommy would move again. The two of them lifted the babies and their ride up easily to the porch. “When Dad died, she was having a hard time—lonely, couldn’t keep the house up by herself—so I moved back in.”
Unlocking the front door, Tommy pushed it open and went to get Max out of the stroller, but Bobby already had the boy in his arms. He picked up Zoe instead. “Don’t you have brothers and sisters that could help out?” he asked, trying not to feel as curious as he actually was.
“Nope, just me. They always wanted a big family, but I was all they got.”
“Not such a bad deal,” Tommy murmured to himself. He stopped in his tracks when he found Cheryl and Cal still facedown on the floor at nearly noon. “Christ,” he whispered, the sound of defeat and frustration hanging in the air as he exhaled. He let Bobby in and closed the door. “Get up.” Tommy tapped Cal with his foot. “Lazy fuckin’… Christ, what I wouldn’t give….” He continued to mutter to himself as he made his way through the house, setting Zoe down with a small pile of toys in the living room.
“Did you bring my money back, Tommy?” Cheryl asked. She got up onto her knees and looked around the room like it hurt to be alive. Her bleached blonde hair was matted down on one side of her face and her shirt hung open over her sagging tits and ratty bra.
“No, I gave it to the doctor so your kids could get their shots.” The house reeked of vomit and it hit him like a punch even from six feet away. “Did you use the can we left for ya?”
Cheryl blinked in confusion and then tipped the can to look inside. “Guess so,” she muttered. “Where’s my money, Tommy? You can’t just steal from me.” She looked at Bobby. “He’s a cop, ain’t he? You, tell him to give me my money back.”
“She can’t even remember their fucking names half the time, but me taking her money to pay for the doc, that she remembers,” Tommy growled to Bobby as he went to the kitchen.
Bobby still held Max like he didn’t trust to put him down near Cheryl. Tommy heard him ask her, “Uh… do you have proof of having had money? Proof of where you got it?”
“What?” she asked, confused, her head obviously still spinning.
“If I’m going to make someone give you your money back, money that was allegedly taken from you, I have to know how much it was, where you kept it, where you got it, see a pay stub… that sort of thing.”
Tommy let out a snort of laughter, realizing Bobby was messing with her, liking it.
“Piss off.” Cheryl got to her feet with a stumble as Cal started to lift his head from the front carpet. “I need a drink,” she said to Cal.
“We’re out,” Tommy informed her as he came in from the kitchen with two sippy cups and a little bowl of crackers and sliced bananas.
“Out? How could we be out?”
“’Cause ya drink like the world’s ending tomorrow? ’Cause ya don’t know when to quit? ’Cause—”
“Because you spent all my money on some shit we didn’t even need?” Cheryl spat back before she headed into the kitchen.
Tommy could hear her opening cabinets, the refrigerator, tearing the room apart. He knew better than to try and stop her.
“Shit we don’t need like diapers and formula and medicine and, oh, I don’t know, electricity and fucking food?” Tommy shouted through the house. The twins looked at him with wide eyes as he handed Zoe her cup and set their snack down on the coffee table.
“Don’t yell! My head fucking hurts!” Cheryl screamed from the kitchen.
“That makes two of us,” Tommy said quietly. He looked at Bobby and, for maybe the first time in his life, felt embarrassed by what he came from.
Cheryl came back in then, glaring, her hands visibly shaking. “I should sell those two.” She nodded to the twins. “All they do is cry, shit, and cost money.”
Tommy clenched his fists, tilting his head down like a bull about to charge as he took a step toward her. “If you ever even think about it, I’ll—” He didn’t get to finish his warning because Bobby cut him off.
“That’s a crime,” he told her as he stepped between Tommy and Cheryl. He passed Max to Tommy as if he knew it was the only way to defuse the situation. “A serious one, hard time, federal pen. If anything ever happens to either of them now, you’ll be the first person we arrest, Mrs. O’Shea.” He added the last with a small snarl Tommy wouldn’t have thought him capable of. He didn’t sound mild mannered or kind now. He sounded angry, like he wished he could knock her out. Tommy had to like him a little for that too.
Cheryl let that sink in. She looked like she was crossing plan B off her mental list. “I just need a goddamn drink!”
Tommy knew booze was her second drug of choice. She used it to help her come down from anything else she’d taken.
With a sigh, Bobby reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He removed a twenty and passed it over to Cheryl. “You and Cal go knock yourselves out. On me.”
Tommy rolled his eyes so hard it actually hurt, but he didn’t say anything until Cheryl had wrapped her arms around Bobby’s neck to thank him, her demeanor changing instantly. “You are such a gentleman,” she told him, trying to catch his mouth with a kiss even as Bobby quickly unwound her and backed up. “I’m good for it, promise.”
“Only if you’re not afraid of getting the clap,” Tommy stage-whispered, setting Max down next to Zoe before he started picking up toys and clothes and books from around the room.
For one instant, Cheryl looked hurt. “Fuck you, Tommy.”
“I’ll pass,” he said flatly, glancing over his shoulder as Cheryl went to rouse Cal. As soon as there was promise of a bottle from the corner liquor store, Cal was on his feet, staggering, but up. “Take that can out with you and hose it out. Whole place smells like… well, smells like you. Jesus.”
Cal’s dark brown hair was greasy and streaked with silver, his skin wrinkled and dirty, and his green eyes rimmed in red. He hated to admit it, but Tommy knew what he could look like twenty or thirty years down the road if he didn’t take care of himself. Cal blinked at his oldest child, then down at the trashcan at his feet. “Oh, right. Good thinking, Son,” he said, running his hands down his front, checking for vomit or trying to smooth the wrinkles out, Tommy didn’t know.
“Right, Pop.”
“How’s the little ones?” Cal asked, and Bobby looked so shocked Tommy thought he might fall over.
“Better, thanks for askin’.”
Cal patted Zoe on the top of her head as he passed her. “Right, well…. Guess we’re off.”
“Good riddance,” Tommy muttered darkly as Cal picked up the can and Cheryl tugged him out the door. It only took him another minute to finish cleaning up and when he was done, Bobby had settled comfortably on the couch. He was watching the twins munch on their food and play with their toys.
“I get why ya helped us out last night, but… that? Giving them money so they can go out and do it all over again? Isn’t there a word for that?”
“Enabling.” Bobby stretched his legs out, knees spread slightly. Tommy had to look away.
“No, I think it’s called stupidity.”
Bobby laughed, then shook his head. “Did you really want that doing DT in here all day? Besides, it was your twenty.”
“Fair point.”
“Should keep them busy for a while, at least.”
Tommy shook his head. “Half hour, tops. But they’ll thumb a ride out to the truck stop so Cheryl can earn some money, and they’ll have plenty to do after that.”
“God, Tom,” Bobby started softly, not a trace of pity in his voice, just a subtle look of sadness echoing around his eyes. “Does she ever bring johns home?”
Tommy could feel himself tense, his jaw clenching, but he found something weirdly relaxing in the idea of unloading all this on someone. “Am I telling Officer McAlister, or….”
“A friend, just… a friend. Off the record.”
“Okay, friend….” Tommy laughed softly, teasing, but he was starting to like the idea of it, starting to wonder why they never hung out in high school. Bobby was a couple of years older than him, but he had friends in Bobby’s year. “Sometimes, yeah. Not often, but… it’s happened.”
“That’s not good, shit.”
“That’s news? I know it ain’t good.”
“That bang-up out here a few months back, that guy you were fighting with…?”
“Yeah, Cheryl brought him home. Guess the guy didn’t wanna pay for a no-tell motel, and he started sniffing around Colleen, wouldn’t let up, so I had to put him in his place.”
Bobby’s laugh was slightly sardonic. “You broke his jaw with a crowbar.”
“Well, you try to turn my sister into a whore, and apparently your place is on the floor in a small puddle of your own blood.” Tommy laughed, but he wasn’t joking.
“Fair enough.” Bobby nodded his head as though he secretly agreed. “Why not just report it?”
“And have CPS crawling up my ass? You seen them, the way they are, there’s no way in hell I’d keep the kids.” They both knew he couldn’t petition for custody as things were, and Bobby didn’t even ask. “Just got a few more years like this. I got it all planned, ya know? Colleen can finish school, maybe get a good job when she gets out, Mikey same thing. Then the three of us, we’ll have enough money and good-enough jobs, and maybe then we can get the kids. Three adults looking after the other five.”
“Might work.” Bobby sounded tired and frustrated. “Lot of shit to go through till then, though.”
Tommy tensed again. “Well, they’re worth it.”
“I meant for them. Colleen is, what? Sixteen?”
“Seventeen the other day.” Tommy didn’t like where the conversation was headed.
“Okay, seventeen.” Bobby nodded. “When’s the last time she had a date or went to a school dance or a party? Or Mikey? And Davey likes stealing shit, you can see it in him already, he’s an adrenaline junkie. Carrie acts like a little mother for the other three, all the time wishing she had one of her own….”
Tommy’s hackles were rising, partly because what Bobby said was true. “You ask them. Ask Colleen or Mikey if they’d rather be out partying and getting laid or going to a movie with friends. Ask them if they’d have a good time doing that shit if they knew their little sisters and brothers were in a state home or being left to Cal and Cheryl. Ask them yourself, ’cause I already know the answer.”
“I know the answer too, Tom. I’m just saying there has to be another way.”
“Well, from where I sit, it’s this or foster care. When you come up with door number three, you let me know.”
“Foster care isn’t always—”
“If you wanna be my friend, you better stop right there.” Tommy sat up taller and edged closer to the twins. “You know what happened when we went to foster care, genius?” Bobby shook his head, looking abashed as Tommy went on. “Mike and Davey were treated like fucking slaves, didn’t eat anything but grits and potatoes because the woman took the money she got from the state for them and played it at the track. Colleen ended up with some pervert that made her sit on his lap while he watched porn and felt her up—ask her why she doesn’t date—and fuck only knows what happened to Carrie and Collin, because they were so goddamn young they wouldn’t even know what to tell me if there was something to tell. So you can take your foster care and shove it up your ass, Officer.”
After a long silence, Bobby shook his head again. “I’m…. Christ, I didn’t know, Tom. I…. My parents took in foster kids when I was younger, it was… nice. We were nice. They loved it there, I….”
“Well, it’s luck of the draw, and as you can see, we’re short on luck around here.”
“I know, I’m sorry. Foster is off the table permanently, okay? I had no idea how bad it was for them, just….”
“It’s all right.” The words came out as a growl, but that was partly because Tommy’s head really did hurt and he was tired down to his bones. He got off the couch and started cleaning up after the twins. He went into the kitchen to put their antibiotics in the refrigerator so he could get them ready for their nap.
Bobby came in after him. “Anything I can do to…?”
Tommy huffed a laugh, thinking he’d actually scared Bobby out of saying the word help. “Know how to change a diaper?” he asked over his shoulder as he started loading the dishwasher. “It’s almost time for their naps, mine too for that matter, but I gotta clean up in here. Can’t leave it like this for Colleen.”
Looking shocked when Tommy allowed him to actually do something useful, like it was a privilege, Bobby asked immediately, “Where’s the stuff?”
“Oh, uh.” Tommy turned around, his hands wet, water dripping on the floor as he pointed across the kitchen to a small cabinet. “Wipes and diapers and ointment and stuff are all over there. You can just change ’em on the floor. We’re not real picky about that.”
“No problem.” Bobby beamed as he gathered the supplies.
Tommy rolled his eyes.
By the time the kitchen was done and everything back where it belonged, Tommy emerged to find the living room empty. He felt a quick bolt of panic until he saw Bobby padding down the stairs in his bare feet and the flannel shirt he’d been wearing earlier stripped off. A crisp white T-shirt covered his trim, well-defined chest. “You should have warned me that Max likes to pee after his diaper is off.”
Tommy shouldn’t have laughed, but he did. “Gotcha good, did he?”
“Oh yeah, you’ll be washing my shirt for me.”
Tommy pointed at the hamper in the hall. “Throw it on the pile.”
He started to pass Bobby to head upstairs, but Bobby stopped him. “They’re asleep. I put the rail up and left the door open so you’ll hear them.”
“Oh.” He was disappointed and didn’t have a chance to hide it. “I usually read to them in the afternoon, settles ’em down. Did they fuss?”
“Not a bit, but Zoe reached for a book when she got her clothes changed. I took the cue, they didn’t miss their story.”
“Well,” Tommy tried to joke. “Now I’ll never know how Goldilocks fares.”
“Happily ever after, I promise.” Bobby flashed him a teasing smile as he sat back down on the couch.
Tommy eyed him for a moment. “Make yourself at home,” he said sarcastically, but joined Bobby on the other end of the couch.
“Don’t mind if I do.”
Bobby was grinning again, his fingers laced behind his head, resting, legs stretched out comfortably.
“I can see that.” The silence in the room was peaceful, not awkward or heavy, and Tommy had to spend a few minutes reminding himself Bobby was still more cop than friend and—despite how incredibly good-looking he was—most likely straight. “How’s your mom doin’ now? I mean, after your dad and all.”
Bobby looked surprised at the question, but answered, “She’s better. It was hard at first, ya know? Thirty-six years of marriage and being alone suddenly…. But it’s been over a year and she’s doing pretty good now.”
“Because Sonny Boy swooped in and made a difference,” Tommy pointed out, part teasing, part admiring.
Bobby laughed rather than take offense. “That’s right. Officer Swooper rescued Ma from….” His joke died on his lips and it looked to Tommy as if whatever he had been about to say would have hit too close to home. “Well, whatever I saved her from. Just glad she’s still around to look after.”
“Wanna trade?” Tommy teased, nudging Bobby with his toe, having kicked his shoes off earlier.
A little snort of laughter that Tommy was starting to find far too endearing slipped out. “Over my dead body.” Bobby shifted so he was facing Tommy now. “What happened to your mom, anyway? I know Cheryl is just… whatever she is.”
“Died of an overdose when I was—” He paused for a minute, squinting as he tried to remember. “—almost thirteen. Collin had just been born and as soon as she had him, she went on a real bender.”
“She stayed clean when she was pregnant? That’s impressive.” Bobby’s expression told Tommy how much he meant it.
“Well, cleanish, I guess. I know she still drank a little and smoked pot, probably just enough to keep the cravings down. She wasn’t like Cheryl. I mean, she was a fucked-up mess too, but she did love us, wanted good things for us. Pop too, when we were little, but Jesus, addiction. What are ya gonna do?”
“It’s a miracle none of you had Fetal Alcohol Syndrome or something.”
“Miracle and Irish genes, I’m guessing. I think we must have developed some kind of resistance in utero.” Both men laughed at that, Bobby shifting down a little farther on the couch. If Tommy didn’t know any better, he’d have thought it felt like the end of a nice date. Not that he’d had any of those, but he guessed if he wasn’t just out to get laid, but out to get to know someone, it would feel a lot like this encounter on the couch. Quiet and easy, a relaxed kind of fun with a small simmer of heat under the surface. I must be more tired than I thought.
“You do good, Tom. Considering all that you have to deal with, you do an amazing job of it.”
Bobby didn’t say it like Tommy was lucky to have his approval or like he needed it from anyone, more like he thought it was about damn time someone said it.
“Just do what I gotta do,” Tommy murmured, feeling his eyelids droop. Sleep was creeping up on him. Somewhere deep inside, a warmth was spreading out from his core, something unfurling inside him that made him feel, for maybe the first time in his life, happy to be alive.
“You say that, but you have no idea how many people I see in your situation that don’t do it. You’ve chosen this, Tom. You choose it every day you don’t turn your back and walk out that door. There are seven people that might just make it from here because of you.”
“Just like you, copper?” Tommy teased, but he was half-asleep already, yawning as he spoke.
“Better than me, Tom.”
The words were a whisper, but they were the last thing Tommy heard before finally sinking down into a comfortable, restful sleep. Bobby’s voice chased warmly through his dreams with little laughs and soft endearments.
When Tommy woke, he found himself under the blanket they kept over the back of the couch. The house seemed empty, and he knew Bobby had gone. He didn’t want to look at the heavy disappointment that left him with. Instead, he blinked his eyes open and went upstairs to check on the twins.