Chapter 19
NINETEEN
WINNIE
She had to do something about Lorenzo. Something for him, maybe.
He’d been running down the dock before she even saw the kid in the kayak. She had never seen anything so brave, but even more than that, he did it without a single thought about himself. Who dives into the Charles River in late November when it’s twenty-eight degrees out?
No one else, that’s who.
She knew she’d done all the right things, too—on with 911 before he reached the boat, giving the location, telling them to send a boat and an ambulance.
But even with the excellent response rate of the Boston Fire Department, she hadn’t been willing to wait.
The kid was trying way too hard to get away from Lorenzo.
What if he went overboard? There’d be a good chance he would drown, and Lorenzo might die trying to save him, and Winnie might also die trying to save him, and the mother would also probably try to save her son, and the Charles would be littered with bodies.
So she did what she was good at. Our most competent child, her parents liked to say, and she knew she was manifesting that a thousand percent at that moment.
She spotted the other kayak, ran down to it and climbed in, grateful she’d spent all those times with Harlow paddling around the bay.
Then she ordered Elliott to sit down now and got to Lorenzo as fast as she could.
Regretted bumping his head, but at least she was there.
The whole thing had taken maybe eight minutes from Lorenzo running down the dock to being pulled out of the water. Her own legs were shaking by then, but out of fear. The sight of the little boy in his mother’s arms…God.
Then there was the sight of Lorenzo, dripping, shaking, ice forming in his hair, his face pale. He looked up at her and smiled, and her heart just about threw itself out of her chest at him.
While he was thawing out in the shower, she started making a hearty chicken stew.
She’d have him drink some whiskey with honey, too.
She’d make sure he ate a hearty meal, then tuck him into bed…
and crawl in with him, maybe. For comfort and warmth only, (cough).
Unless he felt otherwise, at which point shagging the boss made a whole lot of sense.
She sure hadn’t pictured him going to the hospital.
After he left, she finished making the stew, baked some cornbread with jalapenos, then baked a batch of cookies (with sugar she’d stashed in his pantry for the times she stayed over).
She waited up as long as she could, hoping to hear him in the hallway.
The events of the evening caught up with her, though…
all that adrenaline and terror…so when her eyes burned and her lids grew heavy, she went down the hall to the guest room.
When she woke up around seven, he was still gone.
She wished she could skip Grandpop’s birthday.
But what if it was Grandpop’s last birthday?
They’d all been thinking that for the past fifteen years, granted, but one of these years, it would be true.
She started to send Lorenzo a text, but his notifications were silenced.
Could be he was still in surgery, or maybe sleeping, so she wrote a note instead.
Dear Dr. Satan, Hero of the Charles—
I hope you’ll get a lot of sleep today. I left chicken stew in the fridge and made some cornbread and cookies because people who save children get to have carbs.
What you did yesterday was amazing. I’m so proud of you.
~ Winnie
She thought about scrapping it because of that last sentence, but hell. The man deserved to be told. And maybe told more than just that she was proud of him.
But he was still her boss.
Then, regretfully, she gathered up her things and left.