Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
ROBBIE
It’s five minutes before my “date,” and I’m standing in the middle of my living room, surrounded by Home Store n’ More’s entire stock of flameless candles, when it occurs to me that I might have completely lost it.
I know Ames.
I know when he’s scared, he builds walls.
I know the more someone pushes against them, the harder he reinforces them because he hates being told what to do.
And I really meant it when I said I’d be patient and wait for him to take down those walls in his own time.
But I’ve learned a lot about myself these past couple of weeks. I’m still an easygoing guy about most things and probably always will be, but I’m not okay with letting other people tell me what I should want or do. Not even the people I love best, like Ames.
So when Ames stood in my kitchen this morning and basically told me I should date other people, I wanted to shake him .
Instead… I downloaded a dating app. To “explore my options,” just like Ames said. And watched his deep blue eyes go wide with panic when I mentioned my plans tonight.
But now that it’s 6:55—almost time for my “date”—I’m not sure I’ve played this the right way.
I’m not feeling easygoing. About anything.
When my phone rings, I consider ignoring it. If it’s Ames, I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold back from telling him it was all a mistake.
But then I check the display and see Kaylee’s name.
My niece is sixteen, which means she never makes phone calls if she can help it. I answer immediately.
“Kaylee? What’s up?”
“Uncle Robbie, can you help?” Her voice shakes. “D-dad’s here. At Mom’s house. He’s drunk. He’s outside yelling that he wants Mom to give him the keys to her car or something? A-and he keeps trying to get in the back door and the windows. He…” She takes a breath. “He said he has a… a gun.”
I started moving the second her panicked voice came down the line—grabbing my keys, heading for the door—but when she says gun , it’s like someone wraps a cold fist around my lungs and squeezes the breath out of me. I stagger to a stop, one hand on the wall, the other clutching the phone.
Jesus fuck.
I know Mike. At least, I thought I did. I know he’s selfish. Reckless. Irresponsible. I’ve seen him lie, cheat, manipulate. I remember the bar fights and how volatile he’d get when he was drinking. I remember the story about the knife .
But this ? Threatening his family? Threatening my fucking family?
My throat goes tight, and I feel like I might vomit. It’s like the decent, down-on-his-luck brother I spent all those years excusing and keeping a place in my heart for isn’t just lost to me… he never fucking existed.
I clear my throat. “Kaylee, sweetheart, did you call the police?”
“No. Mom said to call them, but…” She lets out a choked-off sob. “It’s my dad , Robbie. He’s having a tough time now, but family takes care of family, right? That’s what you say. And if I call the police, he’ll get in trouble?—”
Yeah, I have said that. I’ve made excuses for Mike her whole life, letting her believe that loving your family means it’s okay to let them hurt you.
“Kaylee.” The word is tense and hoarse with fear. “Listen to me. Hang up and call 9-1-1 right now . That way, they can stay on the line with you while I drive over there.”
“But—”
“ Now , Kaylee,” I repeat, trying to keep from yelling. “I’m going to call too. Family should never make you feel unsafe. Understand? No one who loves you wants you to choose their comfort over your safety.”
“O-okay. Uncle Robbie, please hurry.” She sobs again, but it gets cut off when she disconnects.
I dart a pained glance around my living room. The candles, the flowers, the whole… carefully orchestrated, possibly stupid evening will have to wait.
I’m on the phone with dispatch before I get in my truck, explaining the situation and confirming they’re keeping Kaylee on another line.
I make the six-minute drive to Anna’s in four after running a red light and nearly hitting Flora Buchanan’s ancient Datsun, which is parked nearly in the middle of the road outside her house. The whole way, my mind’s racing almost as fast as my truck. Guilt and shame and fear and disbelief.
I make it to Anna’s before Holden and his guys do, screeching to a halt in front of the gray house with its white trim and cute slanted roof. Anna’s car is parked in the driveway, but I don’t see anyone.
Then I open my door and step out and hear voices yelling from the backyard.
“—not asking for much, for fuck’s sake! I just want the car keys, Anna! What’s so goddamn hard to understand? I paid for that car with my child support, and you know it! I should get to fucking borrow it! Don’t make me come in and get the keys!”
I round the corner, and there’s my brother standing on Anna’s back deck, screaming at the— closed, thank fuck —glass door and pounding it with his fist.
My first thought when I see him is strung out . I don’t know if he’s drunk or high, but he’s swaying on his feet and slurring his words just a little. I don’t immediately see a gun, but his hand’s stuck in the pocket of his jacket, and it’s bulging ominously.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I force myself to think through the de-escalation training I’ve done with Holden’s department. Keep your voice calm, hands visible. Don’t make sudden movements. Build rapport. Keep him talking .
Never in a million years did I think I’d need that training for dealing with my own brother.
“Mike.” I keep my voice calm and my hands up. “Hey! Mike!”
It takes a second for Mike to process my voice, and then he spins toward me. His face lights up.
“Robbie! Hey! What’re you doing here?”
He’s acting like this is a social call.
Good. He’s happy to see me. Use that.
“Kaylee called me. She said you were scaring her.”
Mike frowns. “Nuh-uh. Listen, tell Anna to give me the keys to my fucking car, wouldja? She’ll listen to you.”
“It’s not your car, bro.” I step closer, just a little, but try to keep my voice light and nonthreatening. “I think you’re confused.”
“Fucking not! I don’t have a car because my car broke.
Why should Anna have a car when I don’t?
Can’t keep a job ‘cause she’s taking all my money and turning my kids against me.
” He blinks, stumbles a little, and sniffs hard.
When he pulls his hand out of his pocket to swipe his wrist across his nose, sure enough, he’s holding a gun.
My whole body locks, and cold sweat breaks out across my back—something that never happens on calls.
Focus on training, for fuck’s sake. Don’t react to the weapon. Don’t acknowledge it. Keep him focused on you, not the threat he’s holding.
“Tell her, Rob! Tell her I just need it for a few days, okay? Just until I get out of here.”
“Sure. I’ll tell her,” I agree. I take another slow step forward, forcing a smile on my face and keeping an eye on his hand. “But you seem really stressed, Mike. What’s going on? Talk to me. ”
He shakes his head, eyes darting around wildly. “Anna doesn’t get it , Rob. I messed up. Holden knows. I can’t go to jail. I gotta get out of town.”
I hear sirens moving in this direction. I can’t tell if Mike’s registering the noise yet, but I’m worried that when he does, he’ll be desperate enough to do something stupid.
More stupid.
So I take another step closer to the slider door, hoping to keep his attention, moving in an arc to keep distance between us. When I move, Mike unconsciously counter-moves, and eventually, I manage to angle myself so I’m between him and the door.
“Nobody in this fucking town gives a shit .” Mike’s voice cracks, and his eyes are filled with tears. “I can’t get a job when everyone’s talking about what a fuckup I am. I’m losing my family, and it’s all Anna’s fault?—”
“Mike…”
“I give everything for my family.” He’s shouting now. “But nothing’s ever good enough?—”
Keep him talking. Get him to explain. Make him feel heard.
“You said the sheriff knows you messed up,” I say, keeping my tone concerned and nonjudgmental while really fucking hoping Holden’s guys show up soon. I don’t want to think Mike will hurt me, but then… I wouldn’t have thought he was capable of any of this either. “What does he know, exactly?”
Mike’s face crumples. “I took some stuff. From Luc Tremblay’s stupid construction site.
Pipes and electric wire. Trash, Rob! Just leftover shit, mostly.
Nobody should’ve even noticed it was gone!
I sold it. And I… I took some cash from the guys in advance and promised I’d get more stuff from the site.
But then I got fucking fi red, thanks to fucking Luc .
And now I don’t have the money they gave me and I don’t have a job and I’m fucked. ”
He lifts his gun hand and swipes his wrist over his forehead. His entire body’s shaking, and he’s a strange combination of pale and sweaty. The sirens are getting louder, but Mike doesn’t seem to notice.
“Maybe… Hey! Maybe you’ll gimme the money?” His face screws up. “I really need it, Rob.”
A bunch of sheriff’s deputies pour into the backyard. I notice Holden immediately. His face is grim and his gun drawn as he surveys the scene.
“Robbie,” Holden says calmly. “Get out of there.”
I’m not sure where he wants me to go when Mike’s standing between me and the stairs. Besides, I’m standing between Mike and the house—between him and Anna, Kaylee, and Brie. If I move, Mike will have a clear line of sight to the glass door.
Mike notices Holden finally, and his eyes are wild when they finally track back to mine.
“This is all wrong,” he insists, panicked. “I didn’t mean for anything to happen, Rob?—”
“Robbie?” shouts a terrified new voice—a voice I’d recognize anywhere. “Please! Do what Holden says and come here. Please .”
I can see Ames out of the corner of my eye, being held back by the sheriff’s deputies. Even though he’s forty feet away, just knowing he’s here and potentially in danger sends adrenaline surging through me.