Chapter 29
Calvin
It’s Friday night, and I’m finally home. I worked my ass off today with the upcoming jobs, making sure everything is on schedule. It is. Thank fuck I have a talented team that can keep up with the extra workload.
I shift the brown paper grocery bag in one arm while I unlock the front door. It’s later than I’d like. I don’t like leaving Braeden home alone for long periods. It makes me damn nervous.
He’s been standoffish with me since I’ve been back from Houston—more than usual.
So, the plan is to make him a nice homemade spaghetti dinner tomorrow night, which is one of his favorites.
But not tonight. Tonight, Seth and I have a date planned, a real one, and our first. We kind of jumped into sex first, and I want to make it up to him.
I look over at his house to see his soccer-mom car gone, so he must be taking his kids to his parents’ house.
The thought of a nice date, then some sexy fun time, boosts my mood.
I shut the door behind me and head to the kitchen to put away the groceries.
Perhaps Braeden and I can bond over making dinner together. Would he like that? We haven’t done much bonding since we’ve been so busy getting him settled in.
“Brae!” I call out.
I wait a few minutes, but he doesn’t respond. I guess he doesn’t hear me, so I jog up the stairs and knock on his closed door. “Brae?”
When he doesn’t answer, I take a deep breath. His emotions are all over the place, making it hard to manage and connect with him. It’s not his fault. I get why he’s like this, but I hoped that once I had full custody, things would look up.
I don’t knock again and simply walk in. I look around his room and blink. It’s still bland, and the bed is unmade, but there’s no sign of him. That explains why he didn’t answer me. Where is he? He was supposed to come straight home after school. He knows the rules.
After a cursory search of the house, he’s nowhere to be found. I pull out my phone and call him, but he doesn’t answer. Then I shoot him a text. It shows delivered, but not read.
“Fuck.”
I call him again, but there’s still no answer.
Now, I’m getting worried.
Did something happen to him? Did the bullies hurt him again? If so, someone’s going to fucking pay. I open my security app for the house and scan the video footage from earlier today, but it doesn’t look like Braeden ever came home.
“Double fuck.”
Where the hell would he be? Where’d he go?
I quickly change out of my suit and dress in a T-shirt and joggers. I slip on some running shoes and go on the hunt, not that I have any idea of where to look. However, my first stop should be at that bullying boy’s house.
Not gonna lie, I’m trying not to fucking panic and feel like a failure. Or listen to my mother’s harsh words telling me I’m worthless. It doesn’t matter that she’s gone now. I know her words and negativity will linger for years.
As soon as I’m out the door, I get a call. Hoping it’s Braeden, I rush to answer it. “Brae?”
“Hello, is this Calvin Abernathy?”
I swallow down my disappointment and frustration that someone has chosen now to call me.
With a heavy sigh, I say, “It is.”
“This is Gloria Martinez, the counselor at Belle Chasse High School.”
“Yes, hi, but this isn’t a—”
“We’re calling to inform you that, while we understand Braeden’s situation, he’s been struggling with his classes and grades. What we’d like to do is meet with you and Braeden to see if we can’t raise his grades and turn in his coursework.”
The timing couldn’t be worse. Yes, school is important, but finding Braeden is a priority. “Okay, yes. It’s been a big adjustment for both of us. I’ll set something up with the school, but I have to run right now. There’s an emergency.”
“Of course, we look forward to hearing from you.”
I cut her off and went in search of the boy. I hop into my car and head over to that asshole kid’s house. What’s his name again? Butthead? Bryce. When I arrive a couple of minutes later, I get out of my car and knock on the door.
The little punk opens it. He scans me up and down, then scowls.
“What the fuck do you want? I told my parents what you did, asshole.”
“Good for fucking you. Have you seen Braeden? You know, the boy you’ve been tormenting? Did you mess with him again? Didn’t you learn from the first time that bullies never win?”
He folds his arms and smirks. I swear to god… This kid needs a swift kick in the ass.
“Just tell me, and I’ll be out of your hair.”
“He was on the bus, but we haven’t seen him since.”
Suddenly, an older man steps behind the boy. This must be Dad. I bet he’s a prick, too. He’s about as tall as I am, but paunchy and losing his hair. His scowl matches his son’s.
“Who the hell are you?”
“I’m your neighbor down the street, Calvin Abernathy. I’m looking for my ward, Braeden.”
“He’s the one who stunk up the house, Dad. He sprayed us with that shit, and we didn’t do nothin’. He says we did, but we didn’t.”
Here we go. I brace myself, but I also need to get out of here. This is wasting my fucking time.
The man steps in front of his son and folds his meaty arms, and tries to stare me down. “I should sue you for that. Do you know how long it took to get the stench out of the house?”
“A week? Who the fuck cares? Your son shouldn’t have gone into the house until he cleaned himself off.”
The man comes barreling out, and I take a step back and raise my hands.
“Be cool, my friend. We’re grown-ass adults here.
But I’d like to point out my side of the story, which your son conveniently ‘forgot’ to tell you.
Did he mention that he and his buddies nearly drowned my kid in your pool?
” My kid. It sounds odd in my ears, but it also feels right.
“Then I’d be the one suing you. Be grateful I didn’t call the fucking cops and have your son arrested for assault. ”
The man wheels on his son. “Is this true? You said you did nothing to this man.”
“I-I didn’t do anything to him. He’s lying!”
“Not to me. To Braeden.” I’m done with this. I have to find him. “I don’t have time for this. If he’s not here being tortured or something, I have to go. He’s missing.” Then I point to Bryce. “Tell your father the truth. Shape up and stop lying.”
“I’ll deal with you later,” he says to his son. All of a sudden, the man and I become best pals? Jesus. He softens his stance, and his scowl wipes away from his face. “Have you tried his phone?”
I give him a bland look. “Yes.”
“Not to call him, but check his location on his phone.”
I literally slap my forehead. “Of course! Shit. Thank you!”
They’re quickly forgotten as I rush off to my car to the sounds of the man yelling at Bryce for lying. I climb in and open Braeden’s contact. The map opens up, and there he is, the little blue dot hovering… I expand the map to see he’s by the river. Shit.
There’s no beach or anything around here, only woods and the riverbank. God, I hope he didn’t jump in or decide to swim. I doubt it, though, since I have a pool. But the niggling thought in the back of my mind doesn’t believe this is about having fun or exploring.
I park my car on a grassy strip alongside the road and start walking through the bushes and trees. It’s recently rained, making the ground muddy and slick.
In fact, the clouds are looking ominous with rain again soon. I need to get the boy home before it downpours.
It doesn’t take long to reach the river and the rocky bank. I look left and then right. There he is.
Though I’ve found him, my heart still races with panic. He’s clearly troubled by his sagging shoulders and hunched back, as if he’s trying to fold in on himself.
Braeden is sitting on the rocks, staring out over the water, the gentle breeze blowing back his growing bangs.
Something holds me back from yelling or rushing toward him. Instead, I slowly make my way closer, trying not to twist an ankle on the rocks.
He senses me and looks in my direction before looking away. I tense, worried he’s going to run off or something, but he doesn’t.
As I get closer, I can see he’s clearly been crying. My heart settles down, but it’s aching now.
When I reach Braeden, I sit next to him and stare out at the water. His head is now buried in his knees as he sobs.
All I know to do is wrap my arm around him, but he snaps at me. “Don’t touch me!”
I don’t know what to do if he won’t let me comfort him. I have no idea what’s pushed his set back.
“Talk to me, Brae. What’s going on?”
“Fuck you.”
My gut twists at his words, and I wince.
Okay, so he’s pissed at me. I’m racking my brain, trying to figure out what I’ve done, other than being a complete failure at this parenting thing.
Just when I thought I was getting the hang of things…
He’s doing poorly in school, he has no friends, he’s being bullied, and I don’t know what the fuck to do.
I thought we were making progress. I thought his therapy was helping.
Despite wanting to respect his boundaries, my instincts keep telling me to push him, so I try to hold him again. He still fights me, but not as hard, and I keep trying until he lets me side hug him. “Brae, talk to me. Please. I can’t fix what I don’t know is broken.”
“I wanna go home!” he wails. “I fucking hate it here.”
Honestly, I’m not expecting my eyes to water at his words.
It’s not the first time he’s said them, but I’ve tried so hard to make his life as happy as possible, and I can’t seem to get it right.
I’m frustrated with myself, not with him.
He’s still hurting, and that’s never his fault. I only wish I could do more.
It’s not like we can’t move back to Houston, but I don’t want to. Too many fucking bad memories. I love it here in New Orleans. I also love my house and my business.
“It’s not like you even want me.”
“But I fought to get custody of you.”
“Only because you had to.”
I close my eyes, feeling the sting of his words. I know deep down he’s intentionally trying to cut me because he’s upset. Still, it fucking hurts.