Chapter 10
Liam
Rescue – Lauren Daigle
Ilasted about ten minutes after Charity left before I was grabbing my keys and heading for the door.
It was stupid. Her family crisis wasn’t my problem. But there was something about the panic in her eyes when she took the call that kept nagging at me. The way her voice had cracked.
I told myself that I was just checking she wasn’t sitting in the PD parking lot having a breakdown. Not like I cared, but it would be awkward if she fell apart and I could have prevented it.
So, there I was, driving through the night with her sister passed out in my backseat.
She’d fought sleep, preferring to huff and puff in the back seat, cursing under her breath about not needing any help.
Eventually, though, the muttering was replaced by yawns, and she fell into silence.
Now we were heading to a place that held memories that I’d rather keep buried.
Noticing Charity rub her hands up and down her arms, I leaned forward to adjust the heat in the truck.
“It’ll warm up in a few seconds.”
Her head whipped my way. “Thank you. For the heat. And for coming.” Her voice was soft, grateful in a way that made my heart stutter.
I grunted, focusing on Faith in the rear-view mirror. Dead to the world, mouth open, looking nothing like the belligerent woman I’d been faced with at the station.
“Seems like your sister was tired.”
“She could always sleep anywhere,” Charity said. “Even as a baby.”
“Lucky her.” I kept my voice flat. “You want to talk about what’s really going on with her?”
Charity shook her head. “You don’t need my family drama.”
Good. I didn’t really want to know. I was just being friendly. Except, I’d already gotten myself involved, hadn’t I?
“The lady I’m taking you to will help her,” I said, taking the turn on the dirt road. “She’s good at dealing with people who’ve lost their way.”
“Who exactly is she? Where is it?”
I kept my explanation brief. Friend of the family. Helps young women. That was all Charity needed to know. I wasn’t about to get into the whole story about Mallory, about how Mrs. Rodriguez was the only person who could get through to me when I was seventeen and falling apart.
“A friend came here once when—” I stopped myself.
Her hand found mine resting on my thigh. “You don’t need to explain.”
I pulled my hand away, using the excuse of steering and she whipped hers back like I’d covered it with boiling water. Clearing my throat, I set my gaze firmly on the road. “She’ll get your sister whatever help she needs. You don’t need to tell me the details.”
“It’s drinking,” Charity whispered. “And she thinks our parents didn’t really want her.” Her voice got smaller. “We lost our sister Hope when she was three. Heart condition. Faith thinks she was just a replacement.”
I hit the brakes harder than necessary, my throat going tight. “Christ, Charity, that’s…” I forced myself to start driving again. “That’s rough.”
Rough didn’t begin to cover it. A dead sibling. A sister who assumed she was a replacement, because no matter what her parents did or said Faith clearly didn’t believe it. It explained a lot about Faith, that was for sure.
The farmhouse came into view, standing proud at the foot of a grassy hill, warm lights spilling from every window as gravel crunched under my tires. Mrs. Rodriguez was already on the porch, probably having heard my truck coming up the drive.
“Give me a minute,” I told Charity, needing some space before dealing with Faith’s attitude again.
Mrs. Rodriguez met me with her usual hug, and despite everything, I let her.
“Hey, sweetheart. How you doing?”
“I’m good Mrs. R. How about you? How are the knees?”
She bobbed her head from side to side. “You know how it is. Old age and too many years as a nurse. So, another lost soul?” she asked, studying the truck.
“Yeah, it’s Charity Dawson’s sister, Faith. Got arrested, nowhere to go.” I ran a hand through my hair. “She’s got issues. Drinking, attitude problems.”
“Don’t they all?” Mrs. Rodriguez smiled.
“You didn’t mind me texting you?”
She shook her head. “No, you know everyone is welcome here.” She raised a quizzical brow. “And the sister? Is she the one who’s got you twisted up?”
“I’m not twisted up.”
“Hmm.” Her knowing look made me want to get back in the truck and leave. “Bring them inside.”
Walking back to the truck, I watched as Charity stepped onto the driveway. Hands on her hips, there was a distinct rigidness in her shoulders that were practically bunched around her ears. My hands twitched at my sides as I wondered how easy it might be to press out the knots for her.
As I shoved my hands into the pockets of my sweats, she looked up. “Mrs. Rodriguez is ready for her.”
“Is this okay?” Nibbling her bottom lip, she glanced toward the back seat.
Faith was beginning to stir, and it felt like lightning was about to strike and break the relative sense of peace.
Hoping to reassure her, I placed a hand at Charity’s elbow. “She’ll be good here. I promise.”
The back passenger door swung open, and Faith’s sneakers appeared as she dropped down from the seat. Instantly Charity’s spine lengthened and the storm broke.
“Where the hell are we?” Faith asked, looking around as she stretched her arms, looking like she’d just experienced an incredible night’s sleep, not just a forty-minute nap.
“Liam asked a friend of his to help you,” Charity explained, her voice small and tentative.
The defeated slope of her shoulders and the careful way she spoke told me everything I needed to know about how this conversation usually went.
“I don’t need any help. I certainly don’t need it from you and your friend. ”
“Faith!” Charity’s hands clenched into tiny fists at her sides as she looked up to the sky.
“Listen, Faith, you clearly do need help.” I pointed to the house and Mrs. Rodriguez.
“And that lady there is the person you need. Now you either walk into that house and do whatever she asks, or you get your stuff and walk back to town.” I looked directly at Charity.
“Because your sister is no longer your get-out-of-jail-free card.”
Charity’s eyes were wide as saucers, but the expression on her face was one of awe, not annoyance and God, if that didn’t make me stand a foot taller.
Faith clearly got the memo too because she just kicked at a stone with her worn sneakers and slowly walked toward the house.
“Not sure she’s ever listened to anyone like that before.”
I turned to Charity, letting out a relieved breath. “It’s my natural charm.” Something lodged in my throat as I reached for Faith’s bag. A whole host of memories came flooding back, none of them good, all of them dark and heavy. “Okay, let’s get her settled.”
Mrs. Rodriguez smiled warmly as we approached, her experienced gaze already appraising. “Good to have you here, Faith. I have a room ready for you.”
Rolling her eyes, Charity’s sister started to climb the porch steps. “Can’t say I’m happy about it but—” she turned to look at me, her gaze intense—”I don’t exactly have a hot millionaire ready to step in and help, do I?”
“Not a millionaire, Faith,” I told her, following up the steps.
“Wow he even has jokes,” she muttered and moved inside the house.
“Faith,” Charity called her name on a sigh.
Mrs. Rodriguez placed a comforting hand on her arm. “I’ve got it from here, honey, don’t you worry.”
“Thank you, so very much. She won’t come and stay with me and—”
“I have her, I promise.”
“She can be difficult.”
Faith appeared in the doorway, fire in her eyes, her back rigid. “Yeah, I’m so difficult, unlike your precious Hope.” She moved closer to Charity. “Well, don’t worry I won’t be bothering you or Mom and Dad because it’s clear I’m not wanted. I’d rather sleep on the streets than ask you for help.”
I dropped her bag onto the floor with a thud.
“Hey! You want to live rough then that’s up to you, but do not disrespect your sister and her desire to help you.
And don’t you dare disrespect Mrs. Rodriguez either.
Listen to her and learn from her because she’s the best person I know to help you. ” I gave her a second. “Are we clear?”
Faith’s jaw worked silently, her eyes darting between me, Charity’s unwavering stare and Mrs. Rodriguez’s patient smile.
Then something in her posture shifted. Not defeat but a grudging recognition that she was out of options.
It felt like we were all holding our breath as she turned around and started to walk back inside, shouting over her shoulder, “Where’s my room then? ”
“I’ll show you,” Mrs. Rodriguez called after her. “But if you’re staying, Faith, then you follow my rules and treat people with respect. Okay?”
Faith hesitated in the doorway but then agreed. “Fine.”
“You go.” Mrs. Rodriguez gave me a sympathetic smile. “My guess is, I’ll find out more over the next few days.”
“I can’t thank you enough.” Charity’s fingers twisted together, tentative and worried. “I would have her stay with me, but like I said, she won’t, and I don’t know where else to—”
“Honey, it’s fine. She’ll be safe here for as long as she wants and needs.”
Charity swallowed and gave a silent nod of thanks, and I led her outside, hoping that Mrs. Rodriguez could pull one of her miracles.
As we approached my truck, Charity looked like she wanted to say something.
“Don’t,” I said before she could start. “This was practical. Your sister needs help, and Mrs. Rodriguez provides that. That’s it.”
“Still, you didn’t have to—”
“Charity.” My tone was final. “Don’t make this into something it’s not.”
The silence that followed felt heavy. Tomorrow, once Faith was Mrs. Rodriguez’s problem, and Charity went back to arguing about dinner napkins, things would be back to normal.
Whatever the hell normal was.