8. Garrett
GARRETT
I stare at the blank page on my laptop screen. The early morning sunlight streams through my office window, painting the armchair I’m sitting on in a soft glow. The sun has moved position in the past thirty minutes, but I can’t say the same for the cursor.
Fuck. The words didn’t come any easier last night, after I dropped Athena and Peony off at the hotel. I had hoped whatever blocked the words would disintegrate by morning, and they would flow better today.
I let out a hard breath, push to my feet, and pace. With all the pacing I do while working on a book, it’s surprising a threadbare path hasn’t been worn into the blue rug.
Birds chirp from the tree outside the window, obviously not dealing with a crisis like I am. Maybe they have a point. I should be outside, dealing with my frustrations another way.
I power off my laptop and go outside and weed the flower bed near the house. I cleared away the winter debris a few weeks ago. That’s more than I can say for the tangled thoughts now suffocating my creative flow.
I should check on Athena and Peony, since Athena doesn’t have a phone. Or I could just phone the hotel and get the call transferred to her room. That would save me from going there. I told her last night they could order room service or go to the hotel café and charge the food to the room.
Kellan called after I got back and told me Athena doesn’t have a police record and there are no warrants for her arrest. There are also no missing girls matching Peony’s description.
He also confirmed Kenda died just as Athena had told us—which I already knew. I googled the shooting. Police are investigating what happened, so there wasn’t much information, other than the suspected shooters were dead.
Dead. They deserved a lot more than that after leaving a little girl motherless.
And now I’ll have to tell my parents what happened to Kenda—who they had loved—and how her daughter is quite possibly also my daughter. I scrub my hand down my face. I’m not looking forward to telling them any of that.
I also need to tell Zara. Soon. I’m not ready to tell her just yet though.
I dig up a few more weeds, but the usually calming activity does little to stop my growing restlessness. Shit .
I need to get out of Maple Ridge for a few hours. To burn away that gnawing edge.
Knowing I won’t get any writing done until I’ve talked to Clarke, I decide to head out of town. But first, I drive to the hotel where Peony and Athena are staying and park the Explorer on the street.
The girl working behind the reception desk has a reputation of being a gossip. Christ knows what rumors she might spread if she spots me, especially if she realizes who I’m here to see.
To avoid the risk of that, I walk to the hotel café and the small gift shop in case Athena and Peony are there. They aren’t. I dial the hotel’s number and request the call be transferred to their room.
“One moment, please,” the woman on the other end of the line says.
The phone rings three times, then a tentative voice answers, “Hello?”
“Hi, Athena. It’s Garrett. Just checking if you need anything. I’m in the lobby.”
“You wanna come up and see your daughter?” Athena’s voice is less tentative this time, more hopeful .
“Sure. I’ll be right there.” I would run up the stairs to burn off the restlessness, but I need a key card to get into the staircase. I didn’t think of that yesterday when I checked them into their room.
I walk to the elevator as I type a text for Kellan.
Me: Need to cancel run. Heading out of town for a few hours. Back later.
I pressed the elevator button. Dots pop up on my phone, indicating Kellan is replying to my text.
Kellan: Does this have to do with your unexpected news yesterday?
Me: Yes.
I leave it at that. Kellan won’t push for more information. And I’m not interested in sharing the truth about my plans.
Me: I’m at the hotel, checking on Peony and Athena first.
Me: Will let Mom and Dad know what’s going on once I get back.
They need to find out from me before I tell anyone else—other than Clarke. And they need to hear it from me before the news of Peony becomes local gossip.
Me: And will let Lucas and Troy and the others know tonight. Please don’t mention Peony and Athena to anyone until then.
The elevator door pings open. I step inside and push the button for the third floor.
Kellan: I won’t say anything.
I knew he wouldn’t, but I had to say it for my own peace of mind.
I tuck my phone into my jeans pocket and pace the small confines of the elevator. It ambles its way to the third floor, in no particular rush to get there.
I’m not sure what I plan to do when I get to the room. I’m not used to interacting with kids Peony’s age. My child-related experience is mostly with older kids, like the ones I play street hockey with. Older kids are less scary than their smaller counterparts.
The elevator door opens, and I walk along the corridor toward Athena and Peony’s room. The risk of changing my mind and fleeing—or of someone recognizing me—quickens my pace. I knock on their door.
The door slowly opens, and Athena waves me in. She’s wearing the same clothes she had on yesterday, the light pink T-shirt slightly more wrinkled than it was last night.
The room is decent-sized, with a king-sized bed and plenty of room for a toddler to move around. There’s also a love seat and coffee table, but nothing to keep a toddler busy. Unless climbing on the furniture and hiding behind the curtains is all a toddler needs to be happy.
“Ni-na.” A tiny voice calls out from the playpen in the corner of the room. Small fingers and a head poke up. Peony’s hair isn’t tied up this time. Her textured curls resemble her mother’s while we were dating. My heart tightens at how she looks so much like Kenda.
I swallow the heartache and focus on the name Peony just used. “Nina?”
“She has trouble saying Athena, so it comes out sounding like Nina.” Athena walks to Peony and picks her up.
Peony’s wearing what looks like the same jeans as she had on yesterday but paired with a different T-shirt. This one is bright-pink with white polka dots.
Peony points at the playpen. “Poppy.”
“I’ll get that,” I tell them. Athena’s arms are full with Peony, making it awkward for her to reach down and grab the stuffed panda.
I retrieve the toy and hold it out to Peony. Her bottom lip wobbles, tears filling her eyes, and a burst of cold panic shoots through my veins. I’ve never done well with tears—especially from someone so little.
I fail to retreat in enough time, and a high-pitched scream explodes from her lungs, the noise surprisingly loud from such a small body .
The sound triggers something inside me, and the panic coursing through me flares to full-out fear. Even while deployed in enemy territory, I’d never felt this helpless, this out of my league.
My gut tightens, and I reverse a step, giving her space. That seems like a sensible course of action.
Athena gently rocks Peony. “Hey, sweet girl. It’s okay. Your daddy isn’t gonna hurt you. He just wants to give you Poppy.”
I tentatively hold the panda out to her again.
Still wailing, Peony snatches it out of my hand and buries her face in Athena’s chest.
Helplessness and panic refuse to loosen their grip on me, their talons digging into my flesh. I need to get out of here. To regroup. To get my mind back in the game so I can finish Untold Mercy .
“I have to leave town for a few hours. I’ll swing by a mall in Eugene and pick up some things for the two of you while I’m there. Maybe some clothes. Diapers. Toddler food. Can you make a list for me?”
Athena stares at me for a beat, as if I’ve just told her to run down Main Street in her underwear. “It’s…it’s not like that. I…I just want to take care of Peony and earn a paycheck as her nanny.”
“Right. We established that yesterday with Kenda’s final letter. But you and Peony can’t keep wearing the same clothes. You lost everything in the apartment fire. The least I could do is help you out while you wait for the insurance money.”
Her eyes widen a minuscule amount but enough for me to notice.
“You and Kenda didn’t have renters insurance?”
“We, um, we never got around to it. We had…we had just moved in.”
Shit . They really don’t have anything. “Look, I get it you’re not thrilled asking for my help, but if Peony is my daughter, it’s my responsibility to make sure she’s clothed, fed, happy, and safe. So the least I can do in the meantime is also get you any essentials you need while I’m at the mall.”
“Okay.” A smile eases across Athena’s face, and she suddenly appears so much younger than her late twenties that I’d originally assumed her to be. As if the weight of the world had been placed on her shoulders, and I just knocked some of it off.
I study the back of Peony’s head and her small body pressed against Athena. “What are you planning to do if the paternity test proves I’m not her father?”
“You are her father. Kenda didn’t lie. And I’m hoping once you see the truth for yourself, you can love Peony the way her mama did.”
I reach out to touch Peony’s shoulder, an act of reassurance, but catch myself. Father or not, I need to gain her trust before I can touch her without causing a meltdown. I drop my hand to my side. “The list?”
Athena finds a few sheets of blank paper in the desk drawer, writes a short list of items, and hands it to me. Peony’s wails have quieted to a hiccupping sob, and she watches me take the list from Athena, her eyes wide with unconcealed distrust.
I scan over the list. It’s all for Peony. Athena has written nothing for herself.
“Thanks. I’ll be back later this afternoon.” I can’t afford to take that much time off with my rapidly approaching deadline, but until I’ve talked through everything with my old friend, I won’t be able to focus on the story.
“Bye, Peony.” My voice is kept light and friendly, even though she makes me feel like I’m dangling from the edge of a cliff, my fingers barely gripping hold of the ledge.