Chapter 28
SLADE
“Piece of shit!”
I hear a clang and bang echo from the kitchen.
“Uh . . . Carson says he needs a line wrench to replace the shut-off valve under the sink,” Krissy says, dropping another flattened cardboard box onto the pile.
I lift her flat screen onto the makeshift stand, which will have to do for now.
She rests her hands on her hips. “It’s looking good. There’s still a ton to do, but we’ve assembled all the big stuff. I should be set to stay tonight.”
“Are you sure they switched out the locks from the previous tenant?”
She rolls her eyes. “Stone Cold, you’ve got to chill. I checked with them twice already.”
Luke and Trig come around the corner and drop onto the couch.
“Seriously, how many clothes can one person wear? I’m not hauling any more hangers. They have messed up my hands.” Trig inspects his palms and fingers.
“Does Carson need me to run home and get the wrench?”
Wind exits the kitchen, where Carson is battling the plumbing. “Yeah. He looked in his toolbox but didn’t have the right one.”
I nod. “I’ll grab the rest of the boxes and be back. ”
“Hold on.” Krissy disappears into the kitchen and returns, tossing me a mailer envelope. She forced me, first thing this morning, to spit in the tiny tube, and now I’m sure my DNA will be broadcast all over the globe.
“Put that in the mailbox.” She smiles sweetly. “Oh, and grab the beer from your fridge. I’ll order the pizza.”
“Make sure to bring back some Pedialyte for Princess Leia.” Trig tips his head at Luke.
“Hey, you’ll thank me for not drinking when I have to haul your ass home.” Luke has settled in with this group just fine. “Also, Pedialyte is amazing at replenishing electrolytes.”
I find my keys and head home.
Pulling into my driveway, I see a black Range Rover parked at Sarah’s. Climbing out, I glance across the street, fully aware it’s none of my business if she has visitors, but I haven’t forgotten Roxie asking me if I’d be around.
I toss the wrench in my truck, then head inside to use the bathroom and carry down the rest of her boxes. With the case of beer in my hand, I hear a rapid knock on my front door.
Apparently, I don’t move fast enough, and the quick tapping resumes. I tug open the door, and Brandon stands, cradling his snarling rat.
“What?”
“Um . . .”
“What do you need, Brandon?”
He throws a thumb over his shoulder. “There’s. . .something going on over there.”
I glance over his head and see Sarah talking to a guy. She motions aggressively with her hands and then drops them.
“He’s been there for a while. An hour or so, maybe. They went inside, but when they came out, Sarah didn’t look very good. I think they were arguing. ”
I’d like to ask why in the hell he’s spying on them, but I watch as Sarah wraps her arms around herself, and her head falls forward. Then, he grabs her and pulls her to him. She slumps a little and . . .
I shove past Brandon, closing the door, and charge across the street.
I hit the end of her driveway, and Sarah sways a little.
“Get your hands off of her.”
The man’s head whips in my direction. “Who are you?” His look and tone tell me this guy is a dick.
“Let go of her,” I growl, and Sarah pulls out of his grasp and falls against me. I steady her. “You all right?” I ask her as the douchebag stares at me.
“She doesn’t need your help. She’s fine.” He reaches for her, and I slide her away from his grasp.
“I don’t give a fuck what you have to say.” He can try me.
Sarah’s head rolls back, and she doesn’t look well.
“You all right?” I ask again, still holding onto her, the sound of my pulse building in my ears.
She finally nods, her gaze returning to the man who’s one touch away from losing his veneers. “Miles, you need to go. This is done.” Her voice comes out strong, and I release her.
He huffs a laugh. “Are you serious?” His eyes run over me, and I’d like to rip the smug look off his slick face. “ This is what you’ve been doing?”
I don’t miss his implication.
“Miles, we’re divorced, and you lost the right to know anything long before that.” She crosses her arms over herself and shivers.
“You don’t know what you’re doing.”
It sounds like a threat, and my fist begs to grab this prick by the throat.
“We are never getting back together. You’ll have to hire some other fake family to play the part in New York.” She steps back and bumps into me .
He huffs and tugs his car door open. “You’re making a mistake.” He stops before climbing in. “I took everything before but Oliver and Frankie. I guess maybe it’s time I fix that.”
He slides in and closes the door, turning the engine over.
Sarah’s body slumps against me as if the weight of his words blasted right through her. I wrap my arm around her, my fingers grazing the skin at her waist. She’s on fire.
“Did. . .he. . .just threaten to take Ollie and Frankie?” Her words come out weak and a bit winded.
“Hey,” I turn her toward me. “Are you ok? Breathe.”
She stares at my chest, her body a bit limp.
“Sarah.” I brush her hair out of her face, and her forehead is sweaty and burning up. “Are you sick?”
Her glossy eyes drag up to mine. “He’s going to take my kids.”
“Come on. You need to get inside.” I lead her up the porch steps and into the house.
Ollie is on the floor, enclosed by a circle of Hot Wheels, and Grover pops up to greet me. “Swade, wook! I gots all my trucks.” He points to his organization while I usher Sarah inside.
Frankie’s cries filter down the hall, and Sarah snaps to. She disappears into a room while I try to figure out what in the hell to do.
I squat down beside Ollie. “Hey, partner.” He begins on a ring of cars. “Is your mom sick?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “I p-p-puked in the kitchen the other night. It was so g-gross.”
I pull out my phone and message Krissy, letting her know I might not be back.
Sarah returns with Frankie curled against her, but she looks like she might pass out. “Sorry, you shouldn’t—”
“Give me the baby, Sarah.”
Her eyes rise to mine. “She’s sick and full of snot.”
“Give her to me.”
She stares at me, looking like she might melt to the floor.
“I’m not afraid of snot or anything else.” I hold out my arms. “You need to lie down.” I nod toward the couch.
After a moment, her face scrunches. “I think I might be sick.” She pulls Frankie from her chest and hands her to me, then drops to the couch, curling into a ball.
I adjust Frankie against me, resting her head on my shoulder. I lean, running the back of my fingers over Sarah’s forehead. Her eyes fall closed.
“Have you taken anything?”
She shakes her head.
“Do you have Tylenol?”
“Only for the kids,” she mumbles.
I push out a breath, thinking. I carry Frankie to the kitchen and pull the first aid kit from above the refrigerator. Thankfully, it includes Ibuprofen.
I get a glass of water and sit on the end of the couch. Sarah sits up enough to swallow the pills. When I shift, her hand jets out and grabs mine.
“I need you to stay.” Her eyes are closed, but her voice is filled with worry.
I sit and run my fingers over her cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.” Those words crack open something deep inside me, and warmth cascades over the cold fears of not being needed or enough.
This is where I want to be. I want to help and make just one thing better.
“He’ll take my kids,” she sniffs, and a tear trickles from the corner of her eye.
“Shhh.” I brush the hair away from her face. “It’s going to be ok.”
She grabs my hand and holds it to her chest as if she might never let it go.
I inhale and let it out, thinking I might be ok with that.
Frankie’s face presses into my neck, and her stuffy, rhythmic snores calm my nerves .
“Hey, Ol,” I whisper, and he looks up at me, a line of snot dripping onto his lip. “Go grab the Kleenexes.”
He runs to the kitchen and returns with a large box.
I wipe his nose, then nod to the arm of the couch. “Do you want to watch Bluey ?”
He grins and climbs up next to me. I turn on an episode, and I listen to him giggle.
I’m not sure what happened or what’s coming next. I peek at Sarah, drooling on the couch, and I realize I don’t care. This is where I want to be.
It’s been a long time since I’ve felt needed, and it feels damn good.