Chapter Fourteen
Hunter
It’s hours later that I get back from the clubhouse, feeling both more secure in having Ironwood Falls as a home base, or at the very least a respite from being on the move, and unnerved at what that respite will cost me. Molly was right to warn me. But nerves are nothing if it means Charlie can have a place to rest and recover. I owe him that.
As soon as I finish at the clubhouse, I check in with Sophie. Her response comes so quickly that I’m sure she’s not holding Charlie, which means he’s either sleeping or, more likely, Emily is taking care of him while Sophie is playing on her phone.
I tell them to meet me back at the house. It’s late and well past Charlie’s bedtime, whatever bedtime babies have.
They’re waiting for me when I pull into the driveway, and they get out of Sophie’s car. Sophie slips out of the driver’s seat holding a can of hard lemonade, and Emily gets out cradling Charlie.
“Our baby boy likely has the common cold, but the doctor’s going to run some tests to be sure,” Sophie says, grinning.
“You took Charlie to the doctor?” I say. Then the first part of what she said hits me. “And what do you mean ‘our baby?’”
“There was a thing, and they were about to take our Charlie away, so we had to agree to take him to the doctor to get him checked out for his cold,” Sophie says.
“You’re talking real casually about the fact that you nearly lost Charlie when all you were supposed to do was watch him for a few hours while I took care of something,” I say. Then I turn to Emily, because I want actual answers. “What happened? And why is she saying it’s ‘our’ baby?”
“Maggie saw Charlie and noticed he still looked sick. She also had a lot of questions about the phone call I made to her to help with Charlie’s allergic reaction. I’m sorry, Hunter, but we had to come up with a story and we had to take Charlie to a doctor friend of hers or else she was going to call child services.”
“Between the two of us, it was more believable that I’d be the one to have a secret bastard baby, so we just went with it,” Sophie says. “But we kept your name off of any records. As far as the doctors are concerned, I got pregnant by an anonymous drifter. It was the best we could come up with on the spot.”
“Seems about right,” I say.
“Why does everyone keep saying that about me and random drifters?” Sophie says.
“Because it’s accurate,” I say. I turn my attention back to Emily. “So Charlie’s going to be OK?”
She nods, looks down at him, and smiles. “I’m sure he will be. It’s likely just a common cold, and he needs more rest to get over it. There is something else, though. You wouldn’t happen to have his immunization records, would you?”
I shake my head. “No. What are those?”
Her eyes widen a little. “You don’t know what immunization records are?”
“The military handled all that for me. When I served, if I needed shots before going on deployment, they told me when and where to be and the doctors gave me the jab and the all clear."
“Charlie’s yours, right?”
“Of course he is.”
“Then how can you not know any of this? When he was born, the doctors should’ve walked you through this, at least.”
Emily’s so damn responsible it blows me away. That the idea of someone not following through on a basic duty like an immunization schedule is enough to get her to stare down a man who literally had a gun to her head the day before. I need her, but right now, I don’t need the surprised — and judgmental — look she’s giving me.
“He’s had a non-traditional upbringing. Hasn’t that been clear from the start?”
“I’m not trying to judge you, Hunter. How you raise Charlie is up to you, but this is important stuff. Basic stuff, too.”
For as basic as it sounds, she’s putting a lot of damn weight in her words and making me feel out of my element. Which I am — I’m not dad material, because I’m not a fucking dad — but she doesn’t need to look at me like I am.
And why do I care about her opinion, anyway? She’s just the babysitter, right?
“Fine, so we’ll give him his shots and take care of it. No problem, right?”
“You don’t want to overdo it with immunizations. If he’s already had certain immunizations, it’s not a good idea to double up on them. There’s a schedule you follow, where you get certain shots at certain intervals. At four months, Charlie should get his second shot for DTaP, RV, Hib., PCV13, and IPV,” she says, rattling off a string of intimidating abbreviations like it’s nothing. It takes me back to my military days, when commanding officers would fire off strings of jargon in briefings, usually to remind me of what rules not to break and the consequences I’d be facing when I inevitably broke those rules.
“Why are you smiling, Hunter?”
I pause. It’d alter the nature of our relationship if I told her what I was really thinking — that with her help and the MC’s permission, I feel like I might have a shot at making this place a proper home for Charlie. That she is a vital piece of a puzzle and that I can’t do this without her. That I’m damn impressed by her.
“Nothing. Continue, please,” I say. That word must shock her, because she blinks and pauses. Am I being too nice? Does she prefer the gun to her head? It wouldn’t surprise me if that’s what Sophie liked, but Emily doesn’t seem the type. Which is one thing I like about her. Beyond her looks, which are more than enough to keep my attention, even if she tries to hide it behind her meek attitude and professional outfits, it’s her mind that has me intrigued. With her help I feel like I have a shot at making Ironwood Falls into something I haven’t had in a long time: a home. “Tell me the next steps. Do we get Charlie his shots or what?”
That calm, collected, commanding babysitter tone returns. She’s stronger than I’ve given her credit for. She’s stronger than she gives herself credit for, too.
“If he needs them.”
“Considering the fact that we don’t have records for that, it seems like we don’t have an answer for whether he needs them,” I say, frustration seeping into my voice. This is pointless — it’s like Schrodinger’s shot. How the fuck do people do this parenting thing? It’s fucking maddening. You don’t give a baby his shots, it’s bad; you give a baby the wrong shots, it’s bad; you give a baby too many shots, it’s also bad. It’s just test after test for eighteen years. “Do we just wait until he gets sick with one of those abbreviations you rattled off or what?”
“No. Breathe in, breathe out. I’ve got this taken care of.”
I hadn’t even realized I was acting stressed, but a breather does me good. Raising Charlie is going to make dealing with Victor Moretti seem like a fucking vacation. “Go ahead.”
She continues, calm, like this is all just a walk in the park for her. “I talked to the doctor. Besides taking care of his cold, they took a blood sample—”
“That bitch made him bleed?” I say before I can help myself. I’ve just spotted the little bandage on his heel, of all places, and the image of Charlie being bled, crying, flashes through my mind.
“He didn’t feel a thing. He giggled, even,” she says.
“Figures he would. He’s tough,” I say.
“He’s very tough. Just like his father,” she says. And she smiles at me in a way I can’t decipher. “The doctor’s going to run an antibody titer test. It’ll measure the antibody levels in his blood and tell us which shots he needs. The results should be in tomorrow, and then Charlie will go in and get a second examination and the shots he needs.”
“A second doctor’s visit? It’s not like I have insurance. And I’m not planning on robbing a bank anytime soon. Does the doctor accept labor for services?”
“This doctor will not accept anything for her services unless you care to make a donation. She’s a friend of a friend and she knows some people experience hard times with healthcare, so she tries to help. I’ve got it all taken care of, Hunter.”
Her capabilities leave me stunned for a moment; there’s no way this would be so easy without her.
“And you’ll be able to take him to this appointment tomorrow?”
She nods, once, precise and professional. “It’d probably be for the best. If you went in and they found out you were Charlie’s father, you’d probably get an earful from the doctor and her nurse. Sophie may have told them that Charlie resulted from a hookup she had with an anonymous drifter.”
“Not my finest moment,” Sophie says. “But no shame. Even if they gave me a lecture and some side-eye. Em handled it all like a champ.”
“So, yeah, I think it’d be best if I take Charlie in,” she says. Then she pauses, measuring her words. When they come, they’re hesitant. “This thing you’re doing tomorrow with the Twisted Devils… it isn’t dangerous, is it? I’ve heard rumors about them, and I don’t know if that would be good for Charlie. Plus, you’re the only family he’s got, you said, and…”
I hold up a hand, and she stops.
Even though she’s right — I am all Charlie has and tomorrow’s work is going to be dangerous — I can’t let her know the truth: I need Emily; I need her talents to make the idea of finally having a home a reality. There are other reasons, too. Reasons that make my heart pound, while my eyes settle on places that, if she knew what I was looking at, she’d definitely leave running.
“It’s not dangerous. It’s just a simple job,” I say. “All I want here in Ironwood Falls is a peaceful place for Charlie and I to call home. That’s it. Nothing else.”
Nothing else except finding the people who killed my brother and ripping them, and all their friends and family, to pieces.
“Good,” Emily says, her eyes searching mine for any hint of deception. She must see what she needs to see because she relaxes slightly. "I trust you’ll do what's best for Charlie."
Her trust in me feels like both a blessing and a burden. I look down at the little guy cradled in my arms, his tiny chest rising and falling with each breath, and I swear to myself that I’ll keep him safe. No matter what it takes. No matter how much blood and how many bodies I have to bury.
I owe you that, little guy. A safe home and a chance at a good life. I promise you.
"Thanks, Em," I say, quietly. "For everything." Then, after a moment, I add, “There’s just one last thing.”
“What’s that?”
“If you’re going to be taking him to the doctor’s tomorrow, and helping me with him on other days, we should trade numbers. It’d be the responsible thing to do.”
For a moment that passes so quickly that I’m sure it has to be a figment of my imagination, a burst of joy and something else, something more heated, flashes through her eyes. Then she smiles calmly and nods.
“I agree. It’d definitely the responsible thing to do. Let’s trade numbers.”