Fifteen
ADAK
I made some calls yesterday, which might be considered questionable and unprofessional. However, I’ve always viewed my teammates as my friends. There’s a time to be professional and I never cross that line. But outside of work, I’m close with my team.
So once I put out a call for help to rescue Oren’s personal belongings from a potentially hostile situation, I have eight of my guys ready to help. I don’t think it’s just to help me because I asked, but also because they like Oren.
Then I call Crowley and ask for a favor. “Just show up with a camera that looks as if it’s officially covering news footage. You don’t actually have to record anything.”
Of course, I’m forced to explain a little here too, but when he understands the situation as much as Oren’s put out into the world, he’s on board.
The last call I make is to connections I have on the police force. Two years ago, Colby had a stalker who became quite aggressive and intrusive. We’d taken legal action and there were a handful of officers who were assigned to our case. They took the situation very seriously and were around a lot .
I’d gotten to know two on a more friendly level.
One I keep in touch with frequently. I explain the situation a little more thoroughly to Lieutenant Jackson Washington—with Oren’s permission once I assure him I trust this man explicitly.
Jackson says he’ll bring a couple more officers with him to supervise.
Renny and Hollinger are bringing packing supplies so now I have Oren in my car as we head to the arena to meet the team, Crowley, and the police department. He’s quiet, as I thought he would be, his hands clenching and slackening in his lap over and over as he stares out the window.
At a stoplight, he leans forward. “Can we stop there real quick?”
I glance at where he’s pointing. A dollar store. “Sure. I already have packing material covered, though.”
He nods. “Yes, I know. This is for something else.”
Once the light turns green, I shift into the turning lane and pull into the parking lot. He looks at me, his cheeks flushed, hand on the door handle. “You don’t have to come in. I’ll be right back.”
“Okay.” I’m not sure if that’s a request I stay here or not, but I don’t force my presence on him. Oren gives me a smile and darts out of the car. He practically sprints inside. I watch the door and keep an eye on who’s around us.
I spent a lot of time yesterday studying pictures of his brothers and father, so I’d recognize them. I’d had only a quick glance at his brothers at the arena last week, my attention being on Oren and his father.
Oren returns in less than five minutes. He doesn’t have a bag, but his hand is closed around something as he slips back into the car and immediately locks the door.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
He takes a breath and then shows me what he has. “It’s a sensory ball, but a lot of people use them as a kind of… stress and anxiety relief. Like a fidget toy.” His cheeks are red as he looks at me, embarrassed.
I grip his chin between my fingers and bring his lips to mine. He dramatically relaxes in my hold when I don’t ask him anything further. His shoulders slump in relief as he kisses me with a little more insistence than he usually does.
It doesn’t take me long to understand he’s been ridiculed for this in the past.
“I’m glad you found something that helps to ease your stress,” I say as I sit back in my seat.
Oren inhales deeply again. When he lets it out, there’s a quiet, breathless laughter that comes with it. “I’m so used to being judged because of it,” he says quietly. “I sometimes forget that the rest of the world isn’t like… that.”
“There are always going to be assholes,” I say as I pull the car back onto the road. But for the most part, no one cares what you do. Those that do bring more judgment on themselves than what they’re hoping to place on you.”
He nods. I glance at his lap, where he’s got his new bubble ball, and find his fingers absently pressing the little dots in. Every few seconds, he squeezes the ball in his hands and the dots pop out with what’s a surprisingly very satisfying sound. Like bubble wrap twisting, the rapid popopopopop .
It doesn’t take long to get to the arena. Crowley is already there, talking to Colby with a frown. I imagine he’s not happy that our injured player is here where he could get hurt further.
As I step out of the car, I hear Colby say, “I’m here for moral support!” There’s a big smile on his face.
Crowley isn’t a big man. He’s not exactly short, but compared to the bulkiness of the players all around him, he might as well be tiny. When he sees me, he gives me a very disapproving smile.
Oren stands beside me, his hand firmly in mine. In his other, he continues to mess with his new stress relief object.
“You approved this?” Crowley asks.
I shrug. “I trust Min knows his limits.”
“Hi,” Colby says, and I realize he probably hasn’t met Oren. He gives my boyfriend a big smile. “I’m Colby, but everyone usually calls me Min.” He offers his hand.
Oren releases mine and shakes his hand. “Oren.”
Colby gives me a big, knowing grin before looking at Oren again. “I’m very glad to meet you.”
“Oren!”
Oren turns as more of my team comes toward us.
Lamar has something fluffy in his hands and tosses it to Oren as he gets closer.
Oren reflexively reaches for it and dodges at the same time.
The result is that it hits his hand and somehow spikes into the air.
I catch it and bring it down while Oren stands up with a furious blush.
“Sorry,” Lamar says. “I forget not everyone is a goalie.”
Hollinger snorts, shoving his shoulder. “Seriously. Time to remember that shit, Gibbs.”
I hand the stuffie to Oren and watch as he examines it. When he looks up, it’s with a big smile. “What’s this for?”
Lamar shrugs. “Sometimes, it’s nice to have something soft to snuggle. I took a guess and thought you probably don’t have something like that.”
“I don’t,” he says quietly and grips it to his chest. “Thank you.”
“What do you have?” Lamar asks, spotting the pastel piece of rubber or plastic or whatever it’s made of in his hand.
Oren’s shoulders tense, but he holds it up, opening his hand so it sits in the palm. “It’s a bubble ball. For stress and anxiety.”
Lamar takes it to examine and squishes it.
“No, that’s not how you do it,” Colby says and takes it from him. He pushes in half a dozen dots and then squeezes it.
“Oh fucksauce, that’s awesome,” Lamar says, taking it from Colby to try it himself. He’s like a kid in a candy store.
“I bet you’re fun at Christmas,” Renny says.
Lamar laughs delightedly. After a dozen rounds of dot pushing and popping them out, he hands it back to Oren. “That thing is cool as shit!”
I love my team a little more today. The way they put Oren at ease without even trying is everything. Oren looks at me with a smile, and I can see the relief on his face.
Before any more conversation can be had, three cop cars pull in and fall into line behind the parade of vehicles already there. I kiss the side of Oren’s head, intending to leave him with my team, but he grips my hand and comes with me.
Jack smiles at me, clapping my shoulder when I get close. His smile is wide as he says hello. “Been too long since we’ve gone for pool, buddy. Soon?”
I nod. “Yep, definitely.” His attention moves to Oren and his smile softens a little. “This is Oren. Lieutenant Jackson Washington. He helped us when one of the players had a stalker problem a couple years ago. I promise you, he’s completely law-abiding and trustworthy. There’s no exception.”
“None,” Jack said. “Adak told me a bit about your situation. Are you sure you don’t want to press charges?”
“I just want to be left alone,” Oren says, his voice strong and sure. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
Jack nods. “Just so you’re aware, I’ve removed the missing person case. I can clearly see that you, in fact, have not been abducted, nor are you being held against your will.”
“That entire thing was a lie,” Oren says. “I’ll show you my phone too. No one has called or texted me except Adak and my friends.”
“I believe you. Are you ready?”
Something changed last night. Once Oren responded to the police department, a sense of calm washed over him. He’d always kind of been folded in on himself, as if he were trying to make himself smaller. Less visible. Trying to hide.
That is not the case this morning. He’s standing tall with his shoulders back and head high. He’s still nervous and afraid. But I can see how he’s fighting it too.
Oren is no longer willing to be put on a leash and muzzled. My man is ready to break out.
“This is Officer Mars Fredericks and Detective Daven Lowell. Both of whom have no association with your father,” Jack tells Oren.
“Off the record, I’ve met your father,” Daven says. “I could feel the slime coming off him from a mile away. If I’d had any indication that he was holding anyone against their will, please understand that I’d have made several house calls.”
Oren gives Daven a weak smile. “I hope you weren’t offended by my response to EEPD’s comment yesterday.”
“We’re not,” Jack says. “Though I’d really love to know what you’re referring to. I have a feeling it’s something specific.”
Oren looks at me and I give him a smile.
Not encouraging. Just support for whatever he decides to share.
Oren glances around before he says, “When I was nineteen, I tried to leave. Dad showed up with half a dozen police officers at my friend’s house where I ran to.
And they forced me to go back with him.”
“Did you tell them you didn’t want to? Did they know you were nineteen?” Daven asks.
Oren nods. “Yes.”
“Do you know their names?” Jack asks.
Oren shakes his head. “No. But I might recognize them.”
“Let’s get his belongings first,” I suggest. “Then, if Oren’s comfortable, he can fill you in on some concerns he’s had with trusting the police.”