Chapter 19
nineteen
GAGE
Over twenty-four hours later I find myself in the same spot, lifting a burger to my mouth when someone slides into the seat next to me.
“You have got to be kidding me,” I mumble, dropping the burger onto my plate and giving myself a second to collect myself. But when I turn to my left, it’s not who I thought. It’s still my mother’s eyes staring back at me, but this time from my sister's face.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asks as she steals a fry from my plate.
“Nothing.” I shake my head. “What are you up to?”
Olivia looks around the diner, shifting in her seat, and I’m instantly on edge. Olivia’s not one to beat around the bush. For the most part, she lacks a filter when she’s around me. If she’s uncomfortable telling me whatever’s on her mind…well, I guess I have a pretty good idea what it’s about. Since Ava and I aren't exactly public knowledge, I can only assume she wants to talk about my parents.
“Olivia.” My voice is stern, probably harsher than I mean for it to be, but I don’t appreciate being forced to talk about something I’m not ready to.
I’ve spent the majority of the last twenty-four hours thinking about my parents, and at the end of the day, I’m hurt and disappointed. I’m hurt they didn’t tell me about it, and I’m disappointed in myself. This is now the second relationship someone in my family felt they couldn’t talk to me about, and I hate that I’ve led any of them to believe I wouldn’t support their decisions.
“Just hear me out.” Olivia turns in her seat, her eyes pleading.
Releasing a heavy sigh, I turn to face her. “How long have you known?” I probably shouldn’t ask. I’m sure it will only upset me more, but I need to know.
“I’ve known for a while now. Maybe three months?” There’s pity in her eyes when she admits that.
“Wow. Okay then.” I turn back to the counter, pushing the burger away from me yet again. Maybe one of these days, I’ll get to finish a burger.
“Don’t be mad. I only know because I came home from my dad’s one weekend without telling Mom. They weren’t expecting anyone to be at the house.”
I glance at her out of the side of my eye. “That doesn’t make it better, Pickle. You’ve still known for months.”
“I know.” She grimaces, turning in her seat to face the counter. “I wanted to tell you, but…well”—she shrugs—“they made a good argument. And it wasn’t my place to share their news with you.”
“I know you’re not wrong, but it doesn’t make me feel better.” We’re both quiet for a few minutes, both of us lost in thought. “How do you feel about it?” I ask, shifting to look at her.
“Honestly?”
“Of course. I only ever want the truth from you, no matter what.”
“I’m really happy.” The smile on her face proves just how true that statement is. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my dad. He’s a great dad,” she says emphatically. “But Nick’s always been really good to me—even before they started dating. I’ve always felt a little like I was his, too.” She shrugs, her cheeks turning a little pink at the admission.
That doesn’t surprise me. My dad may have his faults, but loving isn’t one of them.
I lucked out with my parents being the way they were with each other. I never had to choose between them, things like holidays were done with both of them. And while my parents had decent relationships with their exes, it wasn’t the same as the close friendship they maintained after their divorce. Maybe, in hindsight, that’s part of what brought them back together.
“You have a really great dad, too,” Olivia says softly.
“Yeah, I do.” I reach over and squeeze her shoulder.
“Are you mad they got back together?” Olivia asks after a moment of silence.
“No, I’m not mad. Just hurt they didn’t tell me sooner.”
“They wanted to be sure before they told you. You’re their son.” She shrugs. “I think they were afraid of disappointing you or letting you down again. They didn’t want to tell everyone if it wasn’t going to last, especially you.”
“Hmm,” I hum. “Does that mean Asher and Leo know?”
“I think they told them last night.” At least I wasn’t the last person to know.
I look around The Diner, not looking for anything in particular, just thinking. “I’m surprised they could keep it quiet in this town. Maybe we’re better at keeping secrets than I thought we were.” I chuckle.
“When are you going to put them out of their misery?”
I huff out a laugh, glancing at her from the corner of my eye. “They’re miserable, are they?”
“Okay, maybe not miserable, but they definitely aren’t happy. I’d say they're sad, maybe a little disappointed in themselves.”
I nod my head. “I can understand that.”
“So?” she pushes when I don’t say anything else.
“I don’t know, Pickle. I hear what you’re saying, but it’s gonna take me a little bit to figure out where my head is at.”
“You’re still gonna come for Christmas, though, right?” she asks hopefully.
“I work this year, remember?” She nods her head but doesn’t say anything. “You know I’ll stop by at some point. I just don’t know when exactly.”
“Right,” she mumbles, fidgeting with the paper placemat in front of her on the counter.
I pull her into a hug. “Me not being there has nothing to do with this news. If I weren’t working, I would be there.” Especially this year.
This is one of the rare years in which all my siblings will be under one roof with both my parents. Most years, it was just me, Mom, Dad, and one of my siblings. I hate that I’ll be in town but working this year. When I was still serving overseas, it was easier to miss out on the big family events but to be this close—it sucks.
Before I can say anything else to try and make it up to her, my phone goes off with a text from the sheriff.
Lyle
I need you to head to the hospital. We need a witness statement from Tyler Harrison. Call me.
“Sorry, Pickle. I’ve gotta go. Duty calls.” I reach over, pulling her head to mine, and place a kiss to her temple. “I love you, and I’ll talk to you soon.” I grab a twenty from my wallet and toss it next to my still-full plate before lifting my phone to my ear and heading to my cruiser.
Lyle doesn’t mince words and jumps right in when he answers the phone. “Sorry to interrupt your dinner. But I knew you’d want to be the one to take this statement.”
“What happened?” I ask as I walk down the sidewalk.
“He was brought to the hospital this evening by two of his teachers. He was beaten pretty badly. He hasn’t shared much, only told his teachers it was his mother.” The sheriff is quiet for a moment, likely gathering his thoughts. No matter how long you’re on the job, parts of it never get easier.
“The doctors think he was beaten with a bat.” His voice is low when he says it, but I hear the anger clear as day. And I understand it because I feel the rage coursing through me, too.
“Is he going to be okay?” I ask once I’m able to control my voice.
“They’re still checking him out, but he’ll survive.”
Survive. Because while he might be alive, he’s definitely not okay. How could he if his mother beat him with a bat?
“I’ve already got Reid out checking the places she frequents. Just get the statement and come back to the station.”
“Copy that.” We don’t waste time on goodbyes and hang up.
When I first decided to join the academy after being discharged, I seriously considered going to Baltimore or DC. After being in the service for so long, I thought the bigger cities were the only places I’d stay busy and feel like I was helping the most people. And while both of those cities meant I could easily visit Ashford Falls whenever I wanted, I ultimately decided I wanted to be as close to my family as I could—especially after being away from them for twelve years.
Ashford Falls might not have the major cases that Baltimore or DC does, but it wasn’t entirely a sleepy little town either. But this call is the first involving someone I thought I had been keeping a close eye on. Someone I knew could potentially be in a dangerous situation. And right now I feel like I’ve let them down majorly.
Night shifts are the worst, especially when you pick up a case like the one I did. Instead of working a twelve-hour shift and getting home at six in the morning, I end up working an eighteen-hour shift.
I should go straight upstairs, shower, and pass out, but if I do that, I’ll throw my entire week out of whack. At this point, it’s better for me to just push through and go to sleep later this evening.
I don’t think I could go to sleep right now if I tried. My mind is racing with thoughts of Tyler’s horrible situation. He’s just a kid, and seeing him in that hospital bed makes me furious a parent could do something like that. Even knowing we have his mother in custody, I can’t help but want more justice for him.
I fall back onto my couch, checking my phone for the first time since I walked out of The Diner last night. I’ve got a few missed calls from my parents, a chain of texts from my brothers in our group chat, and a couple of texts from Olivia. But the one that catches my eye is the text from Ava.
She texted Friday night telling me she wouldn’t be over, and I know I kind of snubbed her with my blasé response, but it was better that she wasn’t here that night. I wasn’t in the right mindset after finding out about my parents.
Ava
Declan and Quinn just told us about what happened with Tyler. That’s messed up on so many levels. Hope you’re doing all right…
I shouldn’t be surprised by the message. Ava and I are friends—or at least I want us to be friends—but I am surprised. We’ve had a lot of conversations since we met, and in only one of them did we briefly talk about Tyler. It had been more about how her brother was worried about him than anything else, though I do remember expressing my concern and frustration with being unable to do more.
When I showed up at the hospital to take Tyler’s statement, Quinn and Declan had been in the room with him. It didn’t surprise me that Declan was the teacher Tyler went to, and I was honestly glad Tyler recognized he could go to Declan. But even knowing that Tyler had been beaten with a bat, I wasn’t prepared for what I saw when I walked into that room.
He was more than just bruised and battered. His left eye was swollen shut, and it seemed his right eye wasn’t far behind. His right arm was in a cast, with plenty of cuts that needed stitches and a few broken ribs to go along with the severe concussion. But it was how small he looked in that bed, as if he was folding in on himself—trying to make himself the smallest target for whatever would happen next—that really did me in.
It took allowing Declan and Quinn to stay in the room for him to tell me what happened. He’d been home when his mother came in ranting about everything going wrong in their lives being his fault. Continuing on a verbal abuse pattern of making sure he knew how worthless he was before turning violent.
It was a shit show. And while the case was cut and dry, finding his mother took more time than anyone thought it would. She was smarter than we all gave her credit for; though, not smart enough. She skipped town but didn’t make it far before she decided to stop at a bar and get drunk, using her credit card in the process.
I could have left at the end of my shift, but I wasn’t willing to go until that woman sat in a jail cell. Tyler deserves better, and I was determined to make sure he knew that, even if this was just a small step in making sure he feels safe.
Sorry. I’m just getting home and caught up on everything.
I’m sure I don’t have to tell you what kind of night it was. I’m just glad it wasn’t worse.
I wait a few minutes, waiting to see if she responds before I realize she’s flying back to Boston today and could very well already be on the plane.
Hope you had a safe flight.
My head falls back against the couch, and I let my eyes fall shut. Maybe I could fall asleep. I don’t know how long it is, maybe five minutes, when I feel my phone vibrates in my hand.
Ava
I just made it through security. I’ve got an hour to kill.
I don’t get a chance to respond before I see the three little dots telling me she’s typing.
Ava
Do you want to talk about it?
Not really. I’m sure Declan and Quinn filled you in.
Ava
When does your next shift start?
And even though it’s only a slight subject change, Ava’s response proves how well she already knows me. Something else I shouldn’t be surprised by based on the time we’ve spent together and the conversations we’ve had, but it does. And what surprises me more is the realization that I don’t think I mind Ava knowing me so well at all.