Chapter 27
Tucker
“Why are you talking so quietly?” Heidi’s voice drops to match mine as it carries through the phone line. “Are we being sneaky?”
“No. We’re trying not to wake a cranky toddler.” Birdie woke up halfway through the night, pissed off and running a slight fever. I hate seeing her not feeling good, but I also hated her mother leaving my bed.
I’ve never wanted to sleep with a woman. Getting them out my front door as fast as possible after our interaction was complete was always the goal.
But the second Ruth left to go take care of Birdie, my bed felt cold. Empty. I tossed and turned, trying to fall back asleep until I finally gave up and quietly went to check on my girls. I found them cuddled together in the guest room bed, fast asleep.
Going back to my lonely realm held absolutely no appeal, so—after fighting with myself for a couple of tense seconds—I climbed onto the bed with them.
I wanted to be close to Ruth. Plus, I didn’t want her struggling to care for Birdie on her own.
With me in the room, if the toddler woke up again, I could be the one to sit up with her.
Thankfully, that didn’t happen, and the next thing I knew, I was waking up with Ruth’s soft body tucked close to mine. Very close to mine. Somehow, the two of us wound up occupying about a quarter of the bed while Birdie managed to dominate the rest with her tiny sprawled body.
I carefully slid off the mattress, adjusting Birdie so Ruth had a little more space, before tucking them in so I could creep downstairs to make the call I’ve wanted to make since I saw William’s name on Ruth’s phone.
Heidi groans. “Cranky toddlers are the worst.” She makes a considering hum. “I take that back. Cranky men are the worst. Cranky toddlers are a distant second.”
“I’m not going to argue with that. It’s probably pretty accurate.” I go to the coffee pot, filling the reservoir with water before adding grounds. “You should see me when I don’t get enough sleep.”
It happens relatively regularly. Too many nights, my brain goes into overdrive, making sure I consider every bad thing that has happened, will happen, and could happen.
Along with that time I told Jessica Bridges her nose was funny looking in second grade.
“A cranky toddler’ll do that to you.” Heidi redirects our conversation. “I’m assuming you’re not calling to talk about kids though.”
“In some ways I am.” I set the coffee pot to run, and turn, leaning back against the counter. “I wanted to know if you’d be willing to look into someone for me? It’s the guy who fathered Ruth’s daughter.”
“I’m guessing you aren’t wanting me to look into him because he’s a great guy.”
“Your guess is correct.” I drag a hand through my hair before scrubbing it over my face. “He’s been threatening Ruth. I’m hoping we can find a way to make that stop.”
“Ohhhh.” Heidi sounds a little excited. “Are you thinking blackmail? Or do you want me to find someone to kill him?”
Technically, the second one, but that’s probably not the best place to start. “Let’s go with the first one. For now.”
I wasn’t originally categorizing my plan to get William out of Ruth’s life as blackmail, but I guess it’s not far off. I want something to threaten him with. Something to hold over his head so he will disappear and never bother Ruth and Birdie again.
So… Blackmail.
“Aye-aye, captain.” Heidi takes down all the information I have on Senator William Sheppard, promising to get back with me as soon as possible.
While I have her on the line, I ask if she’s made any headway identifying dead Dan or the man who hit Walker and Tobias. I know shit like this isn’t always easy, but I was really hoping it wouldn’t drag out. For my family’s sake.
For the sake of my own sanity as well. I feel like I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop, and it’s wearing on me.
The possibility Ruth and Birdie could end up tangled in whatever’s going on doesn’t help. That’s probably the only positive spin to Ruth going to Maryland. I won’t have to worry about my mess getting on her.
“I have a few leads, but these guys haven’t been easy to track down.” She pauses. “Which is actually a clue on its own. No one works this hard to cover their tracks when they’re living right.”
I could’ve told her the two men who’ve done their damnedest to make my family suffer weren’t living right.
Both had multiple aliases, a list of former addresses, and one went so far as to try to frame Brooke’s ex-fiancé for his crime.
He probably would’ve accomplished it too if he hadn’t overestimated his own driving abilities and underestimated the quality of Toby’s workmanship.
Hopefully we don't run into the same issue looking for dirt on William, because I’ll go out of my fucking mind if I have to send Ruth to Maryland with no way to keep him under control.
Heidi promises to let me know as soon as she has something on the dead Dans and we end the call. Nothing to do now but wait.
I pour myself a cup of coffee, drinking down half before sitting at the kitchen island to handle a task I've been dreading. I’ve already booked movers to haul Ruth’s belongings across the country.
I’m sure they charged me a premium since the notice was short, but I was able to secure a company I have complete faith will get everything to Maryland safely.
And that leaves me with the task of getting Birdie and Ruth to their new home.
I pull up flights and scroll through the options, stomach twisting tighter and tighter as I narrow the field down to the best options.
I don't want a bunch of layovers, and I want to get there as early as possible so I can get everything in line before I turn around and fly back home.
I can't stay there any longer than I absolutely have to, or I’ll never want to leave.
And I have to leave. I can't live in Maryland.
I have responsibilities and a business to run here.
Plus, Ruth hasn't even come close to mentioning the possibility of our connection continuing. If she did, there's a good chance I’d try to work something out. Even if it's just flying out after work on Friday and home for work Monday morning. I’d do whatever it took to see her. To see Birdie.
But we have a deal, and she has a plan. One she’s worked hard for. One that will make her feel safer. One I hope will make her happy. All I can do is help while I still can.
Having booked the flight that will best meet our needs, I slam my laptop closed, the great mood I woke up in souring quickly.
I'm pouring my second cup of coffee when there's a quiet knock on my door.
I expect to see my mother smiling at me on the porch—ready to steal Birdie again—but instead it's Walker.
I can't hide my surprise at my cousin’s unexpected arrival. "What in the hell are you doing here?"
He angles a brow, leaning to peer over my shoulder. "Since you haven't been interested in telling me on your own, I decided it was time to come find out what the fuck you're up to."
Walker is the only member of my family who hasn't bought the tale Ruth and I are telling hook, line, and sinker. He's been skeptical at best, completely disbelieving at worst.
And honestly, I'd really fucking like to know why.
Stepping back, I make room for him to come inside, closing the door before following him into the kitchen. "Want a cup of coffee?"
"Yup."
Walker parks his ass on the stool I just vacated, leaning back in the seat as he watches me pour him a mug of scalding hot liquid. I slide it in front of him then wait silently. If he wants to have this conversation, he's going to have to be the one who starts it.
He takes a long drink, swallowing down the beverage like it's not the equivalent of boiling hot lava, before leveling me with his stare. "How bout you tell me where in the hell you found a woman willing to go along with your bullshit?"
I could lie. Continue with the story Ruth and I concocted. But so much of what we claimed has slowly started becoming true, that I find myself admitting, "I didn't find her. She found me."
Walker's brows climb his forehead, shock working its way onto his face. "Please don't tell me you fucked a girl and then talked her into pretending to be your girlfriend, because—"
"I haven't fucked Ruth." And I won't fuck Ruth. There has to be a line somewhere I don't cross. And I’m pretty sure crossing that one would make it impossible to let her go.
Fuck me. After years of claiming I'm not an asshole for the way I treat women, for once, I want it to actually be true.
Walker snorts. "I don't believe that for a fucking second."
I shrug. "You don't have to believe it. Doesn’t make it a lie."
Walker's eyes narrow in suspicion. "Then how in the hell else did she find you?"
"She showed up on my doorstep and tried to convince me Birdie was my daughter." It sounds bad when I say it out loud, so I try to soften the explanation. "She had a really good reason for doing it, and I always knew it wasn't true."
"Still fucked up." Walker crosses both arms over his chest. "And what was this good reason she claims to have?"
I'm willing to tell Walker a lot, but disclosing Ruth's private life isn't part of that. "If she ever wants you to know, she’ll be the one to tell you."
Walker brings a hand to his face, scratching at the light brown beard covering his chin and cheeks. "How long are you two planning to drag this bullshit out?"
I swallow hard, nearly choking on what I have to say next. “Less than two weeks from now she’s moving to Maryland.”
Walker looks me over, his expression unreadable. “And how do you feel about that?”
I force myself to shrug, but it’s nearly impossible to look casual about Ruth leaving. Just the thought of it makes me want to heave. “Doesn’t matter how I feel.”
Walker studies me a second longer before moving his focus to the remainder of his coffee. “Probably better that she goes then.” He takes a sip before attempting to rip the rug out from under my feet. “Before you decide it does matter how you feel.”
I grab the carafe from the coffee maker and top both of us off before taking the seat next to him and returning the favor. “You ever wonder what life would be like if shit hadn’t happened the way it did?”
I don’t have to explain what shit I’m talking about. We both know what I mean.
Walker takes a sip of his fresh coffee before shaking his head. “No.”
I would have answered the same way two weeks ago. Not now.
“There’s no point in wondering. It’s done, and there’s no going back.” He downs the last of his coffee. “All we can do is learn from it and move on.”
“Is that what you think we did?” It’s a question I’ve been sitting with more and more often. “Because I’m pretty sure neither of us has done anything close to moving on.”
Our methods might look totally different, but Walker and I have been living with the same goal—to make sure we didn’t go through the same kind of suffering again.
In the end, we’ve just ended up suffering in a totally different way.
Shoving the stool back, he stands abruptly. “Maybe you didn’t move on, but I did.” He turns, coming face-to-face with Ruth and a very bedraggled looking Birdie.
Ruth looks from me to Walker before giving him a hesitant smile. “Good morning.”
He tips his head in a sharp nod. “Morning.”
Out of everyone in my family, Walker’s the only one who’s been immune to Birdie’s charms. I’ve never seen him so much as look her way. But right now, he doesn’t have that option. She’s less than a foot away and giving him a sleepy smile, her hair a messy halo of curls.
Walker tenses as she leans toward him, like he’s afraid she’ll bite. Biting should probably be the least of his concerns. If anything, he might want to block his nose.
But Birdie doesn’t try to touch his brain though his nasal passage. Instead, she essentially flings herself at him, shifting her weight so abruptly, Ruth can’t hang onto her.
Walker has two options. Watch Birdie hit the floor, or catch her before she falls.
And since he’s not a piece of shit, his hands hook under her little arms, scooping her up mid air.
But instead of propping her on one hip or tucking her into the crook of an arm, Walker just stands there, holding her in front of him, Birdie’s little legs dangling.
She grins at his frowning face, swinging her limbs with glee.
“I don’t know why you’re smiling.” His scowl holds. “You almost ended up with a concussion.”
Birdie manages to get one arm out in front of her, pointer finger stretching as close to Walker’s chest as she can get it. She bats her lashes at him, a little dimple peeking out of her chubby cheek as she says the single word that could take my cousin to his knees. “Uncle.”
Walker narrows his eyes, working his jaw from side to side. After a few seconds, his shoulders sag on a loud sigh. “Godammit.” He shifts his grip on her, scooping Birdie into his side as he turns my way. “What are we feeding this thing for breakfast?”