Chapter Thirty-Five
Devin’s POV
What the fuck had I just witnessed? That woman was the mother of Cash’s Little Brother from the program?
Her?! She was crazy as hell! Definitely worse than bare-back Becky!
This brand of crazy actually hurt her own child.
She left fist sized bruises and marks on him!
How did you do that as a mother? How did you hit your child hard enough to do that and feel nothing?
Cash was on the phone with emergency services as I took Calen into the apartment with me.
I left him standing in my living room for a moment while I went to my room and grabbed a pair of pajama pants, tossing them on so I was less exposed.
This was not the kind of drama we were expecting first thing this morning.
I came back out to see Calen standing in the kitchen, leaning against the island.
His head was down, as he drug his sleeve under his nose, wiping away evidence of his upset mood.
He looked around like he wasn’t sure if he could trust anything or anyone.
I knew the boy was probably more comfortable in Cash’s apartment because he’d been there before, spent most of his afternoons and evenings there.
He’d never been to mine, because I’d always gone to Cash’s place when I heard them.
“You okay?” I asked, softly, not trying to put too much pressure on him to talk. I was hopeful that he’d actually want to talk to me, but I didn’t get my hopes up. This wasn’t about me.
“That was a lot out there,” I said absentmindedly as I changed directions and went into the kitchen. I caught him nodding over my shoulder, not looking at me, the floor being the most fascinating thing.
I started going around the kitchen, pulling out mixing bowls, spatulas, both rubber and the flipping variety, as well as eggs, bacon, hashbrowns, spinach, shredded cheese, ham chunks, mushrooms, chopped green pepper, and chopped green onion.
I paused looking at the ingredients, and decided to pull out pancake mix and chocolate chips.
Because who doesn’t love chocolate chip pancakes? Sound logic.
“How does pancakes or omelets for breakfast sound?” He just nodded again. Hmm…this kid was proving to be a tough nut to crack today. Given the circumstances, I couldn’t blame him in the slightest, though.
“How do you like your eggs? Scrambled or omelet?” I asked. He just looked at the counter, so I kept talking, trying to ease the tension by not talking about the real issues. Giving him time to process or to gather himself.
“I’ve got everything for an omelet. Ham, shredded cheese, onion, peppers and mushroom, spinach, the works,” I rattled off, watching him for a spark, a hint, anything that showed he was listening, but he gave me nothing.
My countertop must have been incredibly interesting, more than I thought for a teenage boy.
Maybe it was the design or material it was made out of.
“I’m going to fire up the griddle for the pancakes and bacon,” I said, pulling the flattop out from under my oven. I set it on the counter and started mixing up the batter.
“I also have juice, water, milk, and…oh! Chocolate sauce if you want to make your own chocolate milk. It’s something I’ve been craving lately.
There is also Nutella and peanut butter if you want to put it on your pancakes.
And syrup! Hmm…I don’t have much fresh fruit though.
I haven’t been to the store in a couple of days.
I usually hit the grocery store on the weekends I’m not scheduled at the hospital. ”
A knock at the door startled me out of my ramblings as I tried to keep my hands busy.
I started cooking as the door opened and Cash poked his head in.
He looked around and saw us in the kitchen, giving a quick half smile, there and gone before it fully registered.
Calen still hadn’t moved from the spot he stopped walking.
“Officers will be here soon to talk to you Cal. And they want to see the video, babe.” I nodded at him as I picked out my omelet stuff. He walked in, leaving the door slightly ajar, and came over, looking at all the food I’d pulled out of the fridge as his hands gently caressed my waist.
“Could you make me an everything omelet, please, love?” He kissed my head before he went back to the door, waiting for the officers.
I nodded, smiling as I watched him walk away from me.
I grabbed a little of everything, making his omelet before mine while I was feeling all nostalgic and gooey inside.
I knew this wasn’t the morning we had envisioned for ourselves after all the activities last night, but I had no idea how he could still be so wonderful when it wasn’t even eight-thirty in the morning, and he was managing it without any caffeine.
He’s such a good guy. How did I get so lucky with him?
“Cou-could I-uh, try an omelet?” I heard Calen’s slightly shaky voice come from behind me, so quietly I was sure I was replaying something I’d heard through the wall on a different morning.
I looked up at him as his eyes darted from me to the hem of his shirt.
I gathered up the basics of eggs and cheese, and was contemplating making it for him, but thought that teaching him how might give us a chance to get to talking about things a bit easier maybe.
He’s fifteen, almost sixteen. He also needed to learn the skill if he wanted to be able to live on his own one day without ordering takeout for every meal.
Okay. Make of the offer, if he turns it down, I’ll make it and just narrate the shit out of it like they do with newborns. The quiet is seriously getting to me with the heaviness.
“Want me to show you how to make it?” I offered, holding my breath as I glanced at him over my shoulder.
He nodded his head, barely like he was afraid to make a decision himself, but like he was proud he’d done it at the same time.
It was subtle, but I think I saw his lips turn up, barely.
Maybe. Maybe I was hallucinating and just hoping it wasn’t something I imagined, and that he was smiling for real.
I had already mixed up the eggs and we had just poured them into the pan, selecting what sounded good in the omelet when the officers finally showed up.
Calen picked out what he wanted in the omelet before he went to sit on the couch, ready to answer their questions, to fill them in on everything that had been going on.
I plated it for him as he sat on the couch answering the questions.
I set a glass of water next to his plate on the coffee table where they were talking, because I didn’t know what he’d want to drink and I didn’t want to interrupt.
But the kid needed a hot meal. He wasn’t missing out on food because these guys wanted to talk.
Walking back to the kitchen, I started thinking over the last few months that I’d been living here, next to Cash and listening in to their conversations.
The only thing that I can say, ‘That tracks’ is the fact Calen never wanted to go home, and he would always say that Cash was more like family than his own mother.
I felt so bad for the teenager, that I hadn’t noticed anything different, anything that should have raised a red flag or two.
After scolding myself mentally, I realized I was somehow listening to both Cash’s conversation with an officer and Calen’s conversation.
There were things they were saying that, as a doctor, I can’t believe it didn’t see.
I scrubbed my hand down my face, seeing it all now.
How did I not notice he was getting quieter over at Cash’s apartment?
I could hear everything through these paper thin walls.
How did I miss that? How did I miss the way he smiled smaller?
Or the way he’d stay just out of reach of everyone?
How did I not see it? Did I have rose-colored glasses on?
My hands were clenched into fists at the kitchen island, staring at the omelet I’d made for myself and I could feel the tears coming.
I turned my back on the guys sitting in the living room with the officers.
I moved quietly down the hallway, not needing anyone to see the pity party I was having for myself.
This wasn’t about me. This was about making sure Calen was safe.
I was woman and doctor enough to admit that I hated all the missed signs.
I was too wrapped up in me and my shit to notice.
Damn.
*****
Cash’s POV
I had decided to wait outside of her apartment for the officers to get there.
At least, that’s what I told them. I couldn’t stop pacing and I needed to burn off this rage some way.
I knew I would most likely need new carpet in the hallway in front of her apartment from the hole I was going to wear in there, but I couldn’t stop.
I kept replaying the bruises in my mind.
The way he looked so scared, but resolved when he told Vivienne he wasn’t going back with her.
By the time the officers got there, I had cooled down enough to think clearly.
I also wanted to talk with them out of Calen’s earshot about what I said to his mother before she got on the elevator.
I didn’t want him to take on any guilt about her actions, nor did I want him to hear me having lost my shit on her more than he already did.
I wanted to make sure not to scar him anymore.
He did nothing wrong, at all. This was all on Vivienne.