3. Cal
Cal
I t’s a pretty trip home through the rolling countryside. The bike ride does its job, and some of the cobwebs clear. I can finally put the horrible shift and shitty night behind me. It’s been a long time coming, but I finally have something to look forward to.
My apartment is one of two above an empty storefront that’s currently being renovated. I’m still waiting to see what’s going in.
The building is an old brick two-story with apartments upstairs. The nice thing is that my neighbor and I have entrances on opposite sides of the building, and even though we share a balcony, there’s a big lattice partition acting as a barrier, so I never have to see them.
It’s not much, but it does have two bedrooms and ample space for me, Dani, and her baby girl. And the park at the end of the block has plenty of green space for little Charlie to stretch her legs.
I park on the street and climb the stairs to my apartment, ready to welcome my sister.
It’s been too long since I’ve laid eyes on her.
Even though we talk every week, it’s mostly short conversations, with me trying to gauge her living situation.
The decade that separates us in age doesn’t lean toward a tight bond.
But she’s still my little sister, and I want to protect her.
She was still a kid when I left home, not even in double digits.
But I made it a point to call every week, just like I have for the last ten years. She hasn’t seemed happy for a while.
I let myself in, ready to swoop her into a hug, but quiet greets me.
Maybe she ran to the store?
I go about unloading my work bag and do a last-minute sweep through the kitchen. After the hovel Dani and Charlie have been living in, my place probably feels like the Ritz. I check the time of our messages, growing concerned. I told her I was on my way. Surely, she didn’t leave.
I try to call, and again, it goes to voicemail.
From across the apartment, in the small second bedroom, a wail erupts. My heart stops.
The door is closed, but I don’t remember ever shutting it.
I hurry over and fling the door wide, coming face-to-face with a screaming toddler in a playpen.
And no Dani in sight.
I pull Charlie out of the portable crib thingy because, damn, she’s screaming like a banshee.
Thank god her room is on the other end of the apartment.
Maybe my neighbors can’t hear her shrieks and wails.
Not that it would really bother me to annoy them.
The fish dinner strewn all over my landing was especially gross, and it’s time for some payback.
Charlie’s holding a stuffed baby fox that only has a head and a fleece blankie for the rest of its body. Fucking creepy as hell, but she’s got the thing clutched to her like it’s a lifeline.
I hold her close, smoothing a hand over blond curls that stand up in every direction. “Shhh, it’s okay, baby girl. It’s Uncle Cal.”
Her tears quiet as I walk into the living area. No sign of Dani anywhere. There’s no fucking way she left her baby here alone.
I spot a diaper bag in the corner of the kitchen. It’s odd and out of place in my otherwise sparse apartment.
“Did you have a good nap, Charlie-Belle? Ready for a snack?” I hope to god that Dani has packed something for her kid, because with my shift work, I keep the bare minimum on hand in my apartment.
I luck out and find a disassembled sippy straw water-bottle thingy in the outside pocket of the diaper bag.
“How about some water?” I ask her, sitting her on the counter so I can assemble the bottle. Charlie immediately pops to her knees, dangerously close to the edge of the countertop.
“Whoa there, sweet pea. Don’t be jumping down. It’s gonna leave a mark.” With both hands full of a little kid’s cup, I slip my hand under her arms and lower her to the floor.
Five minutes later, she has made herself at home, babbling and exploring everything. Between me trying to fix the fucking straw in the cup so it’ll get suction and deflecting a rambunctious toddler from opening every single cabinet and drawer she can reach, I’m ready to strangle my sister.
This is her damn fault for not being here.
“I’m gonna kick your mama’s ass when I see her.”
“Ass. ”
I should not laugh. It should not be adorable hearing a tiny human say a perfect cuss word, but here we are. I’m simultaneously horrified and also smothering a chuckle. “Yeah, kiddo. Where is your mom, anyway?”
Charlie’s running full bore through the apartment, picking up every random object she can get her little hands on. It’s like she’s got two extra hands, because as soon as I remove one threat, she comes racing by with some other dangerous item in her hand.
Maybe there are some snacks in the diaper bag.
“Here, Charlie, sit down right here and drink your water.” I plop her on the couch and hand her the cup.
She sticks it into her mouth and takes a pull.
Finally, a moment to breathe.
Charlie lets out a bloodcurdling scream, and the bottle, cup, whatever the hell it is, goes flying.
“Jesus.” I scramble to catch her from flinging herself off the couch. “Okay. Let me see if there’s something else.”
I resettle her and go to the kitchen to rifle through the rest of the diaper bag. From the couch, there’s a clatter, and Charlie starts crying. I spin, a pack of wipes in one hand and a pacifier in the other, ready to tackle whatever’s hurt her now.
Jesus, she fell off the couch.
It’s been, like, a half hour, and the kid is already hurt.
I abandon the diaper bag and snatch my phone up on the way to sort Charlie, punching Dani’s contact number with greater force than necessary.
“Dani, where the fuck are you?” I growl when the call goes straight to voicemail.
I grab Charlie up and carry her with me into the guest bedroom, flipping on the light.
I splurged on some really excellent blackout curtains when I moved in. With my schedule, I never know when I’m going to get to sleep. Those same curtains hang in my guest room and stay drawn, so now that there’s light shining into the space, I see what I missed before.
A car seat sits on the bed. A duffle bag overflowing with little-girl clothes sits on the floor. A shopping bag full of toys sits next to it.
Charlie makes a break for the toys.
“Knock yourself out, kid,” I mutter.
Something is not right .
I’ve told Dani forever that I had room for her and Charlie, always hoping that she’d take me up on my offer and get out of that godforsaken small town that we grew up in. There was no future for her there.
I’d escaped the cycle of deadbeats when my friends had all been gathered up in a bust. I’d already gone home sick for the night by the time the cops arrived.
Who knew a case of the flu would actually save me? Seeing all my buddies locked up opened my eyes. I could continue down that path or find a way out.
But even though I’d left to make something of my life, I’d always made room for Dani. Especially when she called me two years ago, pregnant at sixteen years old.
Now as I look around my guest room, the obvious stares back at me.
There are a ton of things for Charlie in the mess, but no sign of Dani anywhere.
My gaze catches on the small dresser and a Post-it that looks like it came from the pad in my kitchen drawer. On it, Dani’s chicken scratch.
Take care of Charlie for me.
Dread lands heavy on my shoulders. What does she mean, take care of Charlie ?
Does that mean for an hour? Two?
Exactly how long am I supposed to take care of Charlie ? I snatch my phone and call Dani over and over again. There’s no reason for her not to answer now—unless something has happened? Another jolt of panic races through me.
What if something happened to her? Since she won’t answer my calls, I send a text, asking her where she is, how long she’s going to be, and if something bad has happened.
I get back a thumbs-up emoji and a shrugging emoji. And I still don’t have answers.
Not knowing what else to do, I call the only person I can think of who has always had the answers.
“Come on, Belle.”
Charlie has a grip on my finger as I usher her into the Daily Brew.
I called an emergency meeting with Captain Collins and asked him and the guys to wait at the coffee shop. They were probably close to leaving, but I’m desperate. I have no fucking clue what to do with this baby. Honestly, I’m wishing we were at the bar because I could use a drink right now.
“Hey there, little tater tot,” Mac’s daughter, Rosie, coos from where she’s squatted to Charlie’s level. I had no idea she’d be here, but it’s a bonus for me that she is. Until her face morphs from delight to one of confused concern. “Uh. Is her diaper supposed to look like that?”
“What are you talking about?” I ask as I place a high chair at the table .
“It looks… full.” She draws back as Charlie toddles in close. “And it smells.”
I guess it’s not supposed to be drooping down between her knees.
The barista, Jules, from earlier arrives with a fresh round of drinks, and I stand back to get out of her way. “Maybe,” I say to Rosie, “but I’m not changing a dirty diaper. Why are you even here? Don’t you have school?”
The barista scowls at me. Whatever .
Even if I was tempted to flirt with her this morning, everything has changed in one short hour.
“Luckily for you, I was exempt from testing today and got out early. And dude, don’t be stupid,” Rosie admonishes.
Mac barks her name.
“What?” Her eye roll is epic. “It’s a diaper. She can get a rash or worse. Here, give me the bag.” She plucks the floral backpack from my shoulder and hoists Charlie up on a hip. “Come on, pretty girl. Let’s go take care of that poopy diaper.”
Rosie whisks her away, and I sink into a chair. The barista is hovering, her brows pinched together and lips pursed like she wants to say something but is biting her tongue. With a glare in my direction, she stalks back behind the counter.
“What’s going on, Cal?” Thoren asks. “Whose kid?”
“That’s my niece, Charlotte.” My gaze tracks to where Rosie disappeared with Charlie. “I got home, and my sister’d left her at my apartment.”
Nate’s face pales and his mouth drops open. “Left her? Like, alone?”
I snag a glass of water, wishing it was something stronger, and down it.
“Yeah. It’s looking that way. She won’t answer my calls.
I’m kind of freaking out. I don’t know if I’m looking at a couple of hours or something more.
My gut’s telling me this is something more.
I mean. There’s no trace of Dani. Just a shit ton of baby stuff. ”
We huddle over the table, everyone looking at me with wide eyes. Then Mac picks up his phone and makes a call.
“Babe. We have a situation. Can you come to the coffee shop?”
By the time Liv arrives, Rosie is finished changing Charlie and has her entertained on the carpeted area at the back of the shop.
Liv, decked out in her white chief’s uniform, looks like the professional badass that she is. She’s also staring at the rest of us like we’re idiots.
“Seriously, have you guys never taken care of a baby?” She surveys the table, then shakes her head. “It’s not that hard. You feed her. Keep her clean. Have a safe place for her to sleep.”
“She was in a playpen. Is that safe?” I ask.
“For now, it’ll be just fine. You’ve got diapers?”
I blanch. “I have whatever is in the bag.”
“Okay. I can make a list of things you’ll need to have on hand. But Cal, what are you going to do about work?”
The barista arrives, again, and I feel her judgment, again. She greets the chief while my brain spins. What am I going to do about work if Dani doesn’t come back tonight? I have some vacation time, but not enough that I can take off indefinitely.
The women are chatting next to me, and I’ve got one eye glued on the two girls. Swear to god, I’m going to kill my sister for doing this to me. To Charlie.
I am not equipped to take care of a baby.
What the fuck was Dani thinking?
“Jules, is your sister-in-law still babysitting?” Chief asks the barista, and for a moment, I’m brought out of my spiraling thoughts.
“Yep. I don’t know how she does it all day. She’s a saint, dealing with that houseful.” She shudders, but the chief’s eyes light.
“Any chance she’s got room for one more? Even if it’s temporary? Cal’s in a bit of a bind right now and could use the help.”
The derisive look that flashes across her features before she can control it is enough to barb that tiny part of me that remembers being on the receiving end of it from my parents, teachers. Hell, everyone in my hometown.
I proved them all wrong by making something of myself. Not that I truly give a shit what she thinks of me. But this whole situation means it’s time to man up.
I sit a little straighter in my chair and make sure I can still see the girls. Charlie is still happily playing.
The chief is right. I need help. And despite what her opinion of me is, if this woman can even point me in the right direction, I’ll take it.
“Hi, Jules. My niece arrived last night, and my sister left unexpectedly this morning,” I say.
There’s a snort from across the table and a muttered “More like abandoned her kid.”
Shame and fury are hot flames of competing energy. But I don’t have time for that right now.
I clear my throat and find my balls. “If you know of a reliable, trustworthy childcare provider, I’d appreciate the contact info. I’m desperate and in a little bit of a panic. I don’t know how long I’m going to have her, and I need some immediate help.”
She looks to the back of the coffee shop, where Charlie is now sitting quietly, watching something on Rosie’s phone, then says, “Let me give her a call and see what she says.”
“Thanks.”
Jules disappears to the counter again, and conversation resumes.
Liv is suggesting what legalities I need to research just in case Charlie needs to go to the doctor and what type of baby paraphernalia I need.
All the words are swimming in my head, but my gaze is locked on the tiny human who’s upended my whole world.
Jules returns with a Post-it Note bearing a name and number. “She says give her a call.” And then she leaves, like she can’t get away fast enough.
I stare at the swirly handwriting, knowing I’m in over my head with no idea what I’m doing.
But if I can run into a burning building, if I can survive getting shot and still show up for the job each and every time… I can do this.
I can take care of a toddler.