Chapter 20 Sasha
Chapter Twenty
SASHA
When I got home from work, my brain weary from hours of typing up reports, I dropped my keys in the small bowl on the table by the door and let my purse slide off my shoulder. The soft thump of it on the floor was punctuation for my long day.
Keeping my jacket on, I fetched my gloves out of the closet and switched from my work shoes into my slip-on winter boots before hurrying out to shovel the front stairs.
There were three apartments in the building, separate from Melanie’s.
We were all pretty good about taking turns to shovel the outside stairs when it snowed.
It was finally slowing after dropping almost six inches during the day.
The porch light glowed in the snowy darkness as I shoveled.
For some reason, shoveling was an activity that tended to elicit feelings of loneliness for me.
I thought it was because the first apartment I had when Quinn was a baby was an upstairs apartment with its own entrance to the side.
While I didn’t mind shoveling, it had always been me clearing those steps alone and forever feeling tired.
Being a single mother with a baby was a blur of exhaustion.
These days, I wasn’t as tired as I used to be because Quinn slept through the night, which meant I did too. But, still, the feeling lingered.
After I was done, I propped the shovel in the corner of the porch and kicked the snow off my boots before hurrying back upstairs.
I shed my coat and boots, my eyes doing a quick check to see Quinn’s laptop on the kitchen counter.
Some nights, she was already done with her homework when I got home, and on others, she would return to the kitchen table after dinner and finish.
Her bedroom door was closed, which wasn’t unusual.
I changed out of my work clothes into a comfy pair of fleece pants and a fuzzy top.
I wanted to be warm and comfortable. I idly wondered what Noah was doing this evening and imagined him in his office working.
I didn’t even know what his office looked like.
By his own admission, I knew work was his life for the most part.
I experienced a twinge of longing, wishing he was here to curl up on the couch and watch a show with me. I shook that away because I was starving and needed to make sure Quinn had something for dinner. Pausing by her door, I knocked lightly, calling, “Quinn?”
I was greeted with silence. When I knocked again, her voice was muffled when she replied, “Come in.”
Opening the door, I found her sitting on her bed with her legs crossed. Her phone lay on the bed in front of her as she stared down at it. Her hands were twisted together in her lap.
Her brow was pinched with worry, and I abruptly had a hollow feeling in my stomach.
Crossing the room quickly, I slipped my hips on the bed beside her. “What is it?”
I resisted the urge to pick up her phone. She lifted her eyes to mine. “My father sent me an email.” I stared at her blankly, my brain not computing. She repeated, “My father, better known as my sperm donor.”
“Oh. Oh!” Finally, the information processed. “Really?”
Quinn nodded slowly, blinking and swallowing audibly.
“What did he say, honey?”
“He wanted to know how I was doing.” My daughter spoke slowly, almost as if she were picking her way through her feelings about it.
My fingers practically itched to grab her phone. I resisted the urge, lacing my fingers together, almost as if to force them to behave.
“How do you feel?” I pressed, trying to keep the spinning sense of panic and worry out of my voice.
Quinn’s eyes whipped up to mine. “Angry. He’s known I existed for years. Why is he reaching out to me now?”
A confusing mix of anger, disappointment, and raw sadness tightened my chest. When one parent completely ignored the existence of their child, it was hard to know how to handle it when they reached out.
In my case, I’d always been just getting by, so the idea that my stupid high school boyfriend might come out of nowhere and try to get custody of Quinn terrified me.
But it also hurt me that he didn’t even care enough to try to be a part of my daughter’s life.
She was an incredible girl, the best ever, and he didn’t even know it.
“Sweetie—” I began, again stopping abruptly when Quinn shook her head sharply.
“Mom, it doesn’t matter. He’s an asshole.”
“It’s okay if it does matter,” I added as I shifted closer to her on the bed and curled my arm around her shoulders.
She tucked her head into the side of my neck, and I could feel the little tremor running through her.
“I wish it didn’t get to me,” she mumbled into my collarbone.
“It’s okay that it does,” I said, circling my palm on her back.
After a moment, she lifted her head and straightened her shoulders. My arm fell away as I looked at her. Her chin rose slightly, and I bit back the urge to smile. She was feeling stubborn.
“I’m just going to let his email wait. He’s been in no rush to talk to me, so I’m not in any hurry to respond to him.”
I suspected he’d known how to contact her. A few years ago when her grandmother had reached out, I’d given her an email for Quinn with Quinn’s permission. He must’ve gotten that email address from her.
“What’s for dinner?” she asked, straightening her legs and wiggling her feet.
“I was just going to take a look and see what we have. Any requests?”
“Can we get pizza delivered?”
A sharp pain pierced my heart. Pizza was one of her favorite comfort foods. I knew she was trying to be brave, but her father’s email was getting to her.
“Absolutely. Do you want to call and order?”
She shimmied off the bed, and I stood, following her out toward the living room. Phone in hand, she nodded. “Of course.”
A pizza place only a few blocks away was always quick with delivery. Quinn ordered our favorite—half pepperoni and half Greek. While I emptied the dishwasher, she sat at the kitchen table, opening her laptop and starting her homework.
I was going to check that email later and decide whether to email her dad myself. Just as I thought I wouldn’t bother talking about it again, I decided I needed to tell her I might do that. I knew trying to keep it from her wouldn’t be a good plan because she’d probably find out.
“Sweetie,” I began, turning after I put away the last dish. She glanced up from her laptop, her hands stilling on the keyboard. I continued, “Can you forward me that email?”
Quinn was silent for a second, and I was afraid she was annoyed, or even angry, that I was injecting myself between them. After a few beats, she shrugged. “Sure. I figured you’d want to see it. Are you going to reply to him?”
“I’m not sure. I might. If I do, I promise I’ll tell you, and I’ll show you what I say,” I said carefully.
She blinked, pushing her glasses up on her nose. “Okay.”
Later that night, after we enjoyed pizza and Quinn went to bed, I leaned my head against my headboard, contemplating asking Noah for his opinion on what to do about Quinn’s father reaching out to her.
While I craved some feedback because the entire situation felt fraught, the idea made me nervous for reasons I didn’t quite understand.
I finally concluded it was because I was so accustomed to doing all of this alone.
I lifted my phone off the nightstand beside my bed, quickly texting Noah. I really needed some advice, and I trusted him.
Me: Quinn’s father emailed her. I don’t know what to think. I need someone to tell me to be reasonable and not panic about this.
My thumbs hovered over the screen as I hesitated to hit send. As if my thumb knew better than my brain, it tapped the send button before I could dwell on it.
Lowering the phone, I let it fall to my lap.
Seconds later, I felt the vibration on my side and glanced down to see Noah was calling me.
I experienced a rushed mix of emotions. Relief because I really needed some advice, joy because he reached out that quickly, and a subtle hum of anxiety.
Not specifically of Noah, but about letting anyone matter too much.
I swiped my thumb across the screen and lifted the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Hey. What are you doing?”
The warm lilt in his voice curled around my heart, easing the thrumming tension. A tension I’d been holding tightly inside ever since Quinn told me her father had emailed her.
“Trying not to overthink,” I said flatly and honestly, letting out a frazzled sigh.
“When did he email her?”
Noah’s tone shifted to solemn and serious, and I could practically feel the gears turning in his brain.
“Just today. She forwarded it to me. Do you want me to send it to you?”
“That would be—” He paused abruptly. “I’d like for you to send it to me, but I want to make sure that’s okay with Quinn.”
Impatience jostled in my thoughts, followed immediately by gratitude. Wow. This man was already knocking down my defenses. To have him consider my daughter’s feelings first, well, it just made me feel all gooey and warm inside.
“You’re too good,” I finally said softly.
“I’m practical,” he said with a low chuckle. “I can imagine she’d be furious if it wasn’t okay with her. But tell me what it said.”
“Give me a sec.”
Pulling the phone away from my ear, I snagged my earbuds where they sat on my nightstand and put them in before plugging them in to the phone, so I could talk and listen while I pulled up my email.
A moment later, I read the email aloud to him.
Hi Quinn. It’s your father. I know you haven’t heard from me, and I can imagine you’re wondering why I’m reaching out now. I want to meet you, if only to apologize for not being involved in your life up to this point. You can reach me at this email or this phone number.
I didn’t bother reciting the number.
“It’s benign enough,” Noah offered after a moment of silence.
“I know, but why now?”
He was quiet for long enough then that I sensed something was up. “What?” I pressed.
“This is just weird. I’m gonna have to talk to Dallas, but Jonathon’s name showed up in the investigation we’re handling right now. Because of it, I won’t be officially on the investigation going forward.”
“What?! Do you think him reaching out to her has something to do with this?”
“Maybe, maybe not. The timing is strange.”
“What’s the investigation about?”
I could feel his hesitation vibrating through the phone line. “Noah, please tell me. I won’t tell Quinn. I just want to make sure she’s okay and keep her safe.”
“His name popped up in a case relating to identity theft and money laundering. That’s it.
It could be completely benign, and frankly, he could be a victim.
This email may not even be from him if that’s the case.
I’m sure you’ve already gone over all the safety issues related to online stuff, but it never hurts to chat about it again.
I’ll talk to Dallas and ask if he’s comfortable talking with you and her.
I think he will be because he’d want to interview you both.
It might be him, or it might be Cole. He’s another agent and a good friend of mine. ”
My heart was thumping unsteadily, and dread coated the insides of my stomach. I took a quick breath.
“Noah—” I began, my words stuttering to a stop because I didn’t know what I meant to say. I just wanted my worry to ease.
“Do you want me to come over?” he asked, his voice low.
A rush of emotion swelled inside, tears pricking hot in the back of my eyes.
Not because I was sad, but rather because it was startling how easily he was attuned to me.
I needed comfort, and I wanted him to be the one to give it to me.
And I so, so very much wanted to fall asleep wrapped in his strong embrace.
“I want you to, but it’s late, and then there will be things to explain to Quinn in the morning.”
“I know. I can’t wait until I can be there, but I know we need to take it at the pace that’s right for her.”
After we got off the phone, my thoughts chased each other in circles. I was worried about Quinn’s father contacting her and I was missing Noah.