Chapter Three
The only sounds in the shop are the constant metallic ones of the work I’m doing, and it’s filling me with a deep sense of contentment.
No TV on in the background, no constant chatter, nothing.
I love the whole family I got when I ended up with Cade.
I’d be nothing without them. But they’re so fucking chatty, sometimes it’s nice to go to work so I can let my mind breathe.
I can already feel all that malaise from yesterday drifting away.
How I feel each day is unpredictable, which I hate.
I think I used to have just all bad days, but they were constant, so it seemed normal.
Now that I have more good days than bad, the bad ones seem that much worse.
And I can see how it affects Cade, which breaks my fucking heart.
It’s better. I’m a lot better. I ride out the bad days and then days like today, I feel like a normal person. But Cade doesn’t seem to have that kind of patience, and wants to fix everything. Which makes me feel guilty, and the cycle continues. On and on and on.
We’ll snap out of it, eventually. I’m sure. I just need to be patient, and focus on the shit I can do right, like fixing this fucking engine and basking in the peace and quiet.
Ford is in the office working on something owner-ey that I don’t have to worry about.
Not that he makes much noise when he’s in here.
We were always quiet together, because neither of us is naturally talkative and Ford only communicates by texting, writing, or sign.
But I’ve been working hard on learning American Sign Language so he doesn’t feel alone.
It’s amazing that he found a partner who knows ASL in this tiny town, but that’s still only one person.
It seems fair for him to be able to communicate how he naturally wants to communicate, so I’m really trying not to be lazy about it.
Which has turned into me signing to him half the time instead of speaking to him.
I don’t have to, because he’s mute, not hearing-impaired, and I only need to be able to understand him signing for us to communicate, but still. It helps me learn.
The pall of silence that has fallen over this auto shop as a result wasn’t the purpose of my plan, but it has been kind of a happy side effect. It’s more peaceful than anywhere else I spend my time, and I want to cling to that with both hands.
I love Cade. He’s my everything. But sometimes I worry that peaceful is the last word I’d use to describe what we have.
There’s a loud tap of metal on metal, startling me out of my thoughts.
I look up and see Ford standing a few feet away, putting down the wrench that he obviously used just to get my attention.
It’s not like I hate people touching me, but it still startles me sometimes if I’m not expecting it, and Ford gets that.
He’s the same way, although for very different reasons.
“You okay?” he signs, his brow furrowed.
“Yeah,” I sign back. “Why?”
“You’ve been frowning at that thing for like ten minutes. Do you need help?”
I blink, because I really didn’t realize I’d been lost in thought for that long.
“No, I’m fine.” I figure out how to explain what I was thinking about and end up explaining my whole thing about how peaceful it is here, in a mixture of ASL and spoken English.
Ford nods, obviously understanding what I mean. He values silence as much as I do, I think.
“But everything’s okay at home?”
A little smile tugs at the corner of my mouth.
I spent the majority of my life with very few people caring if I lived or died, and the ones that did focused mainly on my ability to generate money for them.
I’m not sure how I ended up surrounded by a bunch of misfit guys—all of them weighed down by a bunch of their own issues—who genuinely care about me now. Even if they act like it’s no big deal.
It’s a really big deal.
“Cade seemed stressed last night,” I end up saying.
The thought bursts out of me unexpectedly, so suddenly I forget to sign.
When Ford doesn’t reply, I continue. “I don’t know why I think that.
On paper he was acting like normal. There was something off about him, though.
I feel like it’s happening more and more. Or maybe I’m being paranoid.”
I sigh, because how anyone is supposed to tell the difference between those things is a fucking mystery to me.
“Did you ask him?”
I shake my head. “No. He always says he’s fine. I think he thinks he needs to be happy all the time or I’ll get upset or something.”
Ford’s eyebrows raise, and he takes a few seconds to chew over the thought.
“That sounds like something you should talk about, then. Don’t let him bottle that shit up. We all know where that leads.”
The thought is a dark one. I’d been aware Cade was maybe putting on a happy face; not telling me when he had a shitty day at work, that kind of thing.
Not that he was actually bottling up real terrible feelings.
It’s a concept that hits my gut like buckshot, ricocheting through my body and then dragging me towards the floor.
I’m searching for the right response when my phone rings.
I keep it on do not disturb at work, with only Cade, the girls and their school set to break through in case of emergencies.
It’s a Saturday so it can’t be school, but the girls could still be having an emergency and Cade is on shift, so he probably can’t even look at his phone right now.
I fish it out immediately and look at the screen.
Maddi
Without hesitating, I swipe to answer.
“Are you okay? I’m at work. What’s wrong?”
There’s a chance she just forgot I work on Saturdays, but it’s unlikely.
Maddi almost always texts instead of calling, like everyone else under fifty.
So I’m not surprised to hear some kind of chaos in the background of the call and a tremble in her voice when she speaks, even if she’s trying to hide it.
“Silas, can you please come to the trailer?” she asks.
I hear the distant sound of Kris—their mom—yelling, but it doesn’t sound like she’s yelling at the girls. I’d be surprised if she was. She’s been doing so well lately keeping her drinking and narcotics in check, we thought she’d really turned over a new leaf.
Well, I had. Cade still isn’t convinced, but he’s tougher to crack.
As soon as I hear a deeper voice in the background as well, the pieces fall into place.
Maddi, are you calling the goddamn cops?
He’s far away, but I can tell he’s bellowing the words.
“Hurry, please, Silas,” she whispers into the phone before pulling her mouth away to yell at the voice. “Yes! So you can get out of here before they show up.”
“I’m on my way. If he lays a finger on any of you, call the cops for real. I don’t care what Cade says. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
I’m already running to grab my keys from behind the counter, so I barely catch it when she’d cut off halfway through saying ‘hurry’ again.
Fuck.
For a millisecond, I debate just calling 911 myself. But Cade would kill me.
It has to be their dad. He hasn’t shown up since that one time Cade and I kicked him out almost a year ago, back before we were even together, but I know it used to happen a lot more.
He still owns the property on paper and Kris never bothered with a protective order—or maybe she didn’t have grounds for one, I’m not sure about the details—so it’s hard to kick him out if he’s not getting physical with them.
And Cade is convinced that any attention from social services, even if it’s not their fault, is only pushing the girls closer to getting put in foster care.
I would argue that they’re in a very different situation now than last year, especially since Kris started working through the action steps or whatever the social worker gave her after the last incident, but I know he’d still lose his shit.
I can’t make him feel that kind of fear if I don’t have to. The trailer isn’t far, I can at least see what’s happening first. Last time, Cade was the only one the man seemed willing to get physical with, content to just yell at and intimidate the girls.
I’m jogging to my truck when I feel a hand on my shoulder and flinch away.
Ford is behind me, holding his hands up.
“Do you want me to come?” he signs.
For a second, I consider saying yes. He’s fucking huge and scary-looking, and could definitely take Cade’s dad in a fight. But I can’t be responsible for the shop getting robbed because we both bailed, and I can’t wait for him to lock up.
I’m an adult. They’re my family, too.
I can protect them.
“It’s okay. I’ll call the cops if he’s really on a tear. Can you text Cade—no, wait, don’t. Let me see what’s going on and then I’ll call him. Or I’ll call you if I need help. I’ll… fuck. I’ll figure it out.”
I don’t wait for him to reply before jumping in the truck and turning the engine.
I can protect them. I’ll figure it out.
When I pull up to the trailer, I don’t think I even turn the engine off. I just throw it in park with the handbrake on and run for the door. There’s still yelling, but not crashing and screaming, so my heart rate eases up just an iota.
The noise that the door makes when I yank it open makes me wince, because I think that might have been the final death knell in us needing to replace the damn thing, but I can worry about that later. Inside, I find kind of what I was expecting, kind of not.
“Silas!”
Sky runs for me as soon as she sees me. She looks like she’s been crying, but she isn’t right now, and seems content to throw herself into my arms. I hoist her up until she’s balanced on one hip with her arms looped around my neck, even though she’s getting a little too big for it at ten years old, and keep my eyes on everyone else.