Chapter 16
SARAH
It’s fine. Everything will be fine.
My brain laughs while my stomach hits the dying grass as I haul my life across the street in a duffel bag, backpack, and laundry basket. The big guy next to me is carrying an equal load, while Grover trots beside him, excited for the adventure.
He barks at Brandon, loitering in his driveway and pretending to walk his tiny dog, but watching the reality show taking place on the other side of his fence.
Breathe. Just breathe because what else am I supposed to do?
I have no money and nowhere else to go. The only thing I have is an emergency credit card, which I cannot afford to load up with thousands of dollars’ worth of hotel charges that will take me the next decade to pay off.
I grip the basket tighter, trying to strangle my anxiety and calm my desperate mind so I can think.
Smart. I’m smart and resourceful. Just think, Sarah .
But that’s what I’ve been doing for the past thirty minutes while grabbing the necessities. Nothing. I’ve got nothing.
“If you need anything else, we can run over later.” Slade pushes his front door open, and Grover rushes in to inspect.
I step inside, and Trigger, as I now know him, stands to grab the clothes basket from under my arm. Ollie sits beside Carson, almost on top of him, with a plate of potato chips on his lap .
“Mama, they gots ch-chips.” He smiles, nibbling the edge of one.
Krissy smiles, rocking in the recliner with Frankie passed out on her chest. “She didn’t last long.” She runs a hand up and down Frankie’s back.
I survey the clean, tidy space.
What in the hell am I doing?
I force out a slow breath, adjusting the backpack strap on my shoulder.
“Where do you want this?” Trigger asks.
“Upstairs. The room on the right,” Slade says, bending to unlace his boots.
I kick off my shoes as he picks up the diaper bag and the Pack ‘n Play. I follow him up the stairs to a room with a queen bed.
The room is plain, with gray walls and white trim. The only decor is the three framed sketches of classic cars on the wall. Trig sets the basket on the floor and returns downstairs.
“Do you need help with this?” Slade’s hand rests on the travel crib.
I shake my head. “No, I got it. Thanks. I’ll get it set up so Krissy can put Frankie down.”
He nods and turns for the door. I drop onto the edge of the bed and close my eyes.
How did I get to where my kids and I are staying in a stranger’s house? Well, maybe he’s not a complete stranger, and Krissy lives here, so —
“Sarah.”
My eyes pop open, and he stands in the doorway looking at me like . . .
“You ok?” Slade’s low voice snaps me out of my momentary silent meltdown.
I don’t think so. “Yeah.”
His lips press together, seeing straight through me. “Have you eaten today?”
I push my lips to the side, trying to remember if and when I ate .
“Get that set up and then come down. The guys brought food, and Wind is making pizza.” The bossy man doesn’t move, his gaze holding mine. “Everything is ok.”
I pull in air, feeling my lungs relax at his words as if they believe him.
He leaves, and I take another deep breath, my eyes and throat burning, so sick and tired of just trying to survive.
Everything is ok.
Maybe if I keep hearing his words, it will somehow be true.
I set up the crib, and Krissy carefully lays Frankie in it. I place her Lambie beside her.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Krissy whispers, her gaze on Frankie. There’s something in her soft tone I can’t identify. “He’s growly but harmless.” She pauses, running her fingertips over the edge of the crib. “He raised me after our mom died. I give him a hard time, but he didn’t have to, you know?”
I’m shocked still as she walks to the door.
“I have to get ready for a date, but I’ll be home later tonight. Help yourself to anything in the bathroom. Towels, soap, tampons . . . It’s in the closet just outside or under the sink.”
I stare down at Frankie for a moment, thinking about Slade raising Krissy. She’s right. He didn’t have to take that on, but he did. It makes me wonder what else is hiding underneath all that protective gruffness.
I close the door and head downstairs to figure out what this will be like.
I stop at the bottom. Carson and Trig are on the couch with Grover sprawled out between them.
Slade is now in the recliner with Ollie sitting on his leg, lining up his airplanes on the armrest, and telling him about each one.
“The pizza is done.” Wind peeks his head out of the kitchen, flour dusting his shirt. “Ol said he likes cheese. Is that ok with you?” he asks me.
I nod. “That’s great. Thank you.”
Slade lifts him to the floor. “Come on, partner. Let’s get some pizza. ”
Ollie’s plane takes off from the arm of the recliner and zooms through the air. Slade crosses to the kitchen, and I follow him.
I detest accepting handouts or receiving help I cannot afford to repay. “I should go get snacks and—”
He opens the refrigerator and reaches in. “We have plenty. What do you like?” He turns around with a bottle of water in one hand and a beer in the other.
I take the water. “I’m not picky.”
His eyes flick between mine, searching for the truth. “Help yourself to anything.”
Wind runs the cutter through the pizza, and Slade grabs a plate, handing it to me.
“Swade, watch dis.” Ollie’s plane lands on the table, skidding to a halt before running off the edge.
“All right, Maverick. You asked for cheese.” Wind places a plate with a small slice of pizza on the table.
“I’m not M-Mavwick. I’m Owiver.” Ollie slides onto a chair. “Swade, sit next to me and show me dat trick again.”
Slade fills his plate with pizza and sits beside Ollie, but those dark eyebrows raise under the rim of his hat, waiting for me to get food.
I let my head drop to the side but take my plate to the counter lined with bags of chips, dip, veggies, a crockpot with meatballs, and Wind’s pizza.
I put some veggies and a couple of meatballs on my plate.
“Wind, we need jalapeno poppers,” one of the guys hollers from the living room. “This game requires more bacon.”
“Do you always spoil these guys?” I slide a piece of pizza onto my plate.
“We take turns. Slade is grilling next week, but cooking is my therapy. It’s the only way I can put up with these assssss-dudes.”
Slade snorts behind me. “Maybe Sarah can make cookies. ”
I slowly rotate to look at him, but he’s only shoving a piece of pizza in his mouth. Those green eyes avoid mine, and I feel the tension in my body fade.
“I love to bake, too,” Wind says, sprinkling cheese on another pizza.
I carry my plate to the table and sit across from Slade and Ollie. “You know, I can actually bake.”
“Mama makes the b-best cookies,” Ollie says, and I smile in satisfaction.
“Really. Is that because they look like—” I kick his leg under the table, and the man smiles.
He freaking smiles, and it’s so unexpected it chases all my nerves right out the door. I stare at him and the dimple I’ve now confirmed exists.
“Who’s making cookies? I need one.” Krissy steps into the kitchen, and I have to force my gaze away from Slade’s unforeseen playfulness.
She’s wearing a long-sleeved top, short skirt, tights, and riding boots. She’s beautiful, and I’m reminded of the days when I used to look cute.
“What, your boyfriend won’t splurge for dessert?” Carson asks, sliding by her to get to the snacks.
“He would. But I’ll never pass up a bonus cookie,” Krissy says, grabbing her coat from the hook by the back door.
“You look beautiful,” I say.
“Thanks.” She smiles, her bright lips setting off her short, dark bob. “Don’t wait up, party people.”
“Be careful, Kissy,” Ollie says, wiggling in his seat.
“Yeah, be careful,” Carson says, passing her on his way back to the living room.
There’s something in his tone, and her eyes track him all the way into the other room as she settles her purse across her body.
Huh .
She winks at Ollie. “I will, buddy. I’ll see you tomorrow. Ok?”
He nods, and she leaves.
The guys groan from the living room, and Wind joins them to watch the replay.
I pop a carrot in my mouth just as I hear Frankie’s cry.
I leave Ollie to tell Slade about his Hot Wheels collection. After changing Frankie’s diaper, I return to find my plate of food still waiting for me.
Wind cuts a piece of pizza for Frankie into extra-small pieces, and Grover joins us, anticipating the remnants.
When we’re finished, I spread a few toys on the floor and sit with her as Ollie bounces between the guys, talking about airplanes and football. Frankie sits in the middle of the floor, her bright eyes bouncing around the room, trying to decide how she feels about it all.
Me too, baby girl. Me too.
______
The silence is calming, but the space is unfamiliar. I kiss Ollie and run a hand over Frankie, then tiptoe down the stairs, peeking around the corner toward Slade’s room at the back of the house. All is dark and quiet.
I switch on the kitchen light, setting my textbook and computer on the table. At home, I’d make a cup of tea and turn on some soft music, but here, I’ll stick with water and silence, hoping not to wake Slade.
Grover trots down the stairs, his nails clicking against the vinyl floor. He stops in the doorway, inspecting, and then plops at my feet. I reach down and pet his head, knowing he’s as aware of the strange environment as I am.
The guys hung around most of the evening. Wind was the first to leave when his girlfriend called. When I told Ollie it was time for a bath, he refused until Trig and Carson left. They were sympathetic and took off not long after .
I heard the TV while I read to the kids and sat with them until they fell asleep, but now the house is still, and I wonder if Slade is sleeping or if he’s hiding now that we’re here alone.
I’d be happy to do the same, except I need a few hours and some light, if I even have a chance at still passing my courses.
I open my textbook and then my computer, hoping to get through a couple of chapters and the assignments due.