33. Melanie
melanie
Ilie with Oakley for over an hour, fingers stroking gently over his forehead long after he’s fallen asleep.
He’s boneless, his mouth slack as soft sniffles escape him, but I don’t move.
The door is cracked open, letting in enough light that I spend the time counting the dark lashes fanning out over his cheeks.
I don’t want to leave, not wanting him out of my sight.
My mind keeps replaying the day over and over again, imagining what might have happened if Oakley hadn’t been found when he was.
If Cale hadn’t been there, and I’d waited like the cops wanted me to, there’s a damn good chance that my son would never have come home.
Underneath the fear is unimaginable fury, sliding through my veins with blistering heat. It boils me from the inside out, and there’s nowhere for it to go. Davis endangered Oakley tonight, threatening his safety like he was nothing more than a pawn. Our child.
Oakley pulls me from the tangled web of my thoughts with a soft snore as he rolls away from me. I take one final sniff of his hair before dragging myself out of his bed, tiptoeing to the door.
I don’t leave straight away, leaning against the doorframe staring back at him, so deeply snuggled into his blanket that all I can see is a tousled mess of dark hair.
He told me everything that happened between bites of spaghetti.
Davis threatened me to get Oakley into the car, even when a feeling in his tummy warned him that he shouldn’t.
His certainty that someone would come—that Cale would come—and how that hope started to fade after the sun went down.
He told me about the way Davis screamed at him, about how cold and hungry he got.
He also told me about the loud bangs that echoed through the cabin as Cale got him through the window.
I don’t know anything for certain, but each word out of his mouth only made my hackles lift, enhancing the insidious feeling that something horrible must have gone down after Cale and Oakley left.
Cale called me from the truck on the way home, telling me that Levi was dealing with the cops until tomorrow. He didn’t tell me much, not wanting to go into detail with Oakley in the car; a choice I appreciated, even when not knowing frustrated me.
I ease Oakley’s door closed, pressing my forehead to the cool wood, forcing air into my lungs, and holding it for several seconds. When I feel like I’ve got a steady grip on myself—or at least steady enough—I head for my bedroom, stepping inside and firmly shutting the door behind me.
Cale’s sitting on the edge of my bed, his phone pressed to his ear.
His brow furrows as he listens to whoever is on the line, and I use the opportunity to take him in.
He’s made himself comfortable while waiting for me, still wearing his jeans, but his feet are bare.
His shirt is missing, leaving his chiseled, inked torso on full display.
I take him in shamelessly, my heart fluttering like a wild thing in my chest.
“You sure?” he asks, voice a soft rumble. “Okay. Well, we’ll come to the station tomorrow, but only if Oakley’s okay with it. He’s been through enough.” The fury inside me cools slightly, knowing he’s still looking out for my son. “Thanks, Levi. Talk tomorrow.”
He ends the call, his shoulders bunching as he stretches out to place his phone on the nightstand, glancing back at me. “Hey. Oakley asleep?”
My smile is fleeting. “Finally. I’m resisting the urge to go and check he’s breathing like I did when he was a baby. Maybe just hold a mirror up to his mouth.”
His brows rise, brown eyes soft with amusement. But his voice is gentle as he asks, “You need a hug, darlin’?”
I pretend to think about it long enough that his eyes darken, his mouth twisting into a playful scowl. “I guess,” I say grudgingly.
He mock-growls, and I laugh, coming closer and sliding my knees on either side of his hips, perching my ass on his knees.
I trail my fingers over the skin of his shoulders, feeling the sinewy muscles under heated flesh, air catching in my throat.
Cale wraps his arms around my waist, clutching me to him so tightly that each breath is a struggle.
“You okay?” he asks quietly, tipping his head back and scanning my face with concerned eyes. I hold his stare, dancing my fingers over the back of his neck, playing with his hair.
“I’m okay,” I reassure him quietly. “You brought my world back to me, Cale. You kept him safe.”
His eyes slide away, his lips pressing into a thin line. “I wish he’d never been taken in the first place.” He grunts out, his fingers digging into me. “Where I found him—”
I almost don’t want to ask, but I need to know. “What did Levi say?”
Cale’s hesitation doesn’t slip by me, and I tense. He loosens one arm, finding the hem of my shirt and sliding under it, stroking over my back. “You sure you want to talk about this now? We could wait—”
“No,” I interrupt. “I won’t be able to sleep otherwise.”
His eyes still full of reluctance, Cale sighs. “There was another man there, meeting with Davis, and he was armed.”
I suck in a whistling breath through my teeth.
“That…that asshole. Taking Oakley is one thing, but putting him in danger like that? I can’t believe—” I don’t even finish, each word running onto the other, hands trembling as I pull back from Cale.
He doesn’t let me go far, his hand pressing right between my shoulder blades to keep me pressed against him.
His other hand curls around my neck, holding me still, our eyes clashing.
“I know, darlin’, I know. The guy fired a shot into the ceiling to scare Davis, but that’s when Onyx went in. Logan took a bullet to the thigh. He’s okay,” he rushes to add when I tense. “It missed anything vital, and he’s already been patched up. No one else was hurt on our side.”
I give him a long look, waiting for him to give me the rest. His eyes sharpen in a way that tells me everything I need to know before he even says a word.
“Dead, baby,” he says plainly, grimacing when I flinch. “Davis is dead. A stray bullet hit his neck. He bled out before anyone could even think of helping him.”
I drop my chin down, trying to reconcile my feelings, but it’s impossible when I don’t even understand what I should be feeling.
Davis was the man I lived with for ten years.
Someone I made vows to and started a family with.
I thought I knew him, but he seemed like he was out to prove to me that I didn’t know jackshit.
Now, he’s gone, leaving me with no one to level my anger at. Davis is gone, and he wouldn’t ever have to pay for what he did to us, or make amends for the trauma he’s left inside Oakley—tonight, and all the months that came before.
And I’m going to have to tell Oakley.
“He’s dead,” I repeat, needing to hear the words from my own mouth to make it real.
“Yeah, darlin’. He’s dead.” Cale cups my cheek, stroking his thumb over my cheekbone. “Don’t hold it in. You get to feel however you want about this.”
“Yeah?” I rasp. “How do you feel, then?”
He exhales slowly, admitting lowly, “Furious. I’m glad I got Oak out of there before he got hurt or he saw anything he couldn’t unsee. But I wanted to inflict some hurt on that son of a bitch.”
My mouth twitches reluctantly. “I can relate.” I swallow thickly, my eyes stinging with angry tears.
“It’s not fair that he gets to just be gone, leaving us here to clean up his mess.
There’s no room in here”—I thump a hand against my sternum—“for anything else. He put our son in danger, and for what? Money? Drugs? He could have killed Oakley, Cale. He could have killed my son.”
His hand slides into my loose hair, twisting the strands around his hand and tugging until my scalp smarts. “I know. But Oakley is safe,” he reminds me. “He’s in his room, sleeping. Hold onto that.”
“What if—”
“He’s safe, Melanie. Don’t let yourself think about anything else. Yeah?”
I scoff. “Easier said than done.”
“I know.” He pulls my hair again, his expression firm. “But you’ll do it anyway, hm?”
Warmth unfurls in my belly, a shocking contrast to the ice that’s been buried in my bones since the school called to tell me Oakley was gone. I chew on my lip, feeling his hands on me—warmth against my back, the sharp tug on my hair, his thighs under me—and the world refocuses.
My son is safe, and Cale…He’s here.
He brought Oakley home, and he’s here.
“What happens now?” I ask, a husky note to my voice that has his mouth curling upward.
“Jerome—he’s the detective assigned to the case—said the guy was a known drug dealer, but he’s not at the top of the food chain.
Just a pain in the neck, basically. He’s been apprehended.
He’ll be charged with aiding and abetting a kidnapping, as well as possession with intent to sell and assault with a deadly weapon. ”
I give him a level look. “You sure know a lot, considering you’re not a cop.”
He shrugs. “What can I say? I know the right people. Point is, he’s not gonna be a problem for us.”
“Will anyone from Onyx get in trouble for what happened?”
“We wanted to err on the side of caution, so everyone was kitted with bodycams. There’s enough proof there that the dealer shot first, and Logan went down before anyone else returned fire.
Classic self-defense. There are other charges they can bring against Onyx, but Levi’s confident they won’t, especially considering we got Oakley out safely with ‘minimal loss of life.’” He air quotes the final words, rolling his eyes.
There’s a long pause, and Cale looks like he’s debating with himself. “There’s something else.”
“Seriously?” I hunch over, pressing my forehead to his shoulder. “I don’t know if I can take any more.”
His hand rubs soothing circles against my back. “After the cops cleared out, Levi said they went to Marcy and Dipshit’s place.” I don’t smile at the insult. I don’t. My mouth just has a mind of its own, and I’m glad he can’t see it. “Clarissa was there, Mel. Alone.”
I freeze. “What?”
Cale sighs under me. “Marcy was out partying somewhere in Ashland. She was drunk and high. They’ve arrested her too.
Clarissa’s with Landon now, who’s rightfully furious and has dragged his family lawyer out of bed.
Ryan’s finally talking, and he said that Clarissa told him that it was happening more and more often, her being left alone, but she begged him not to say anything. ”
“She’s eight,” I whisper brokenly. “She’s just a little girl.”
My feelings about her are complicated, knowing how she’s treated Oakley and Nell…But if she was being left on her own, it would explain some of her misplaced hostility. Clarissa couldn’t take it out on her mom, so she took it out on other kids who wouldn’t fight back.
Nell was an easy target.
“I feel bad,” I tell Cale, rolling my forehead against his shoulder. “I should’ve known. Should have seen something—”
“How could you?” he demands. “They didn’t want you to know.”
“It was my job to know,” I cry back, trying to wriggle off his lap.
He doesn’t let me go, his arm turning into a steel band around my back as he holds me in place.
“It was my job to keep my son safe,” I tell him, voice filled with self-recrimination.
“If I had, I might have been able to help her too. I knew something was wrong with Davis, but I was so blinded by my own anger over the affair. And I kept letting Oakley go there—”
Cale yanks my head toward him, slanting his mouth across mine with enough force that it mashes my lips into my teeth.
I freeze, but then I’m kissing him back just as fiercely, pouring every ounce of my anger and devastation into the kiss as our tongues duel.
He spins us around, manhandling me down onto the bed, my thighs automatically parting to accommodate him as he crushes me with his weight.
“This is not on you,” he growls against my mouth, hips pressing hard against mine.
I can feel the thundering beat of his heart under my palm.
He lifts his head, eyes piercing mine. “Oakley is safe. Clarissa is safe. He is not a problem anymore, and he doesn’t belong here.
Not in this room, not in this bed, and definitely not in here.
” He reaches up, tapping his fingers against my temple.
I bat his hand away, snapping, “You can’t just order me to let it go,” I snap at him, ignoring the slow roll of desire sliding through me. “You can’t just—”
“Melanie.”
He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of my mouth, the touch completely different from the passionate kiss that left my lips feeling bruised. He watches me, waiting to see if I’m going to say anything. When I don’t, he kisses across my cheek, jaw, and down my neck.
“You did everything right,” he says again, one hand sliding under my back and flicking my bra clasp open with ease. “He’s safe. Oakley is safe.”
He plants a hand next to my head, leaning up enough to shove my shirt up to my neck, the cups of my bra following it. Cale doesn’t waste time, ducking his head to press kisses to the swell of my breast, moving torturously slowly as he circles my hardened nipple, goose bumps pimpling my skin.
“Cale,” I cry out.
“Yeah, baby?” he whispers against my skin, teeth nipping at me, still not touching me where I want him to.
I slide my hands into his hair, tugging his head until his eyes meet mine. I need his focus on me, need him to understand exactly what he did for me tonight. He gave me my world back, made both me and Oakley safe when everything could have gone so completely fucking wrong.
“My son is safe,” I agree, “because of you.” I wet my lips, unable to stop the way they tremble. “You found him. You brought him home.”
Cale stares down at me, his expression solemn, a heaviness in his brown eyes that’s usually missing. “I’ll always bring him home, darlin’.”