When the woman who had met with him the day Amanda died approached, her mouth in a grim line, he gripped the file tighter.
“Mr. Barnes,” she greeted him, her voice firm and a bit resigned. “We’ve got some work to do. You’re going to want to get prepared.”
He nodded and followed her back through the maze of offices, fear churning in his gut.
Chapter 20
Kristen sipped her coffee in the break room, closing her eyes for a moment. After four days of Stanley, being back at work felt like a break. Even with as much work to process as she had, as much catch-up as she was dealing with, it all felt so much smoother than keeping up with a toddler. More even-keeled.
And even as she thought it, Kristen’s heart sank at the reminder that she could be back at Clay’s home, snuggling with that warm ball of love who always had a smile and loved exploring. Who would sit quietly if you were reading him a story and did the silly voices and noises of the animals. Who would rest his head so trustingly on your chest when you hummed to him even if your voice was nothing to write home about.
She checked the clock on the break room microwave. Just after two. She’d take a few more minutes to have her coffee, then attack the last of the work on her desk. By four, she’d be out the door and heading to pick up Isaac for his tournament.
Just a weekend alone with her son. Funny how that felt like a bit of a treat, when she’d spent the past ten years doing nothing but being alone with him. But the four of them together in Clay’s house… It had felt so comfortable. So normal. But Isaac was still her baby, no matter what, and these times of just the two of them were coming to a close. He’d be staying at school over breaks or bringing friends home.
Or girls. Her heart dropped into her stomach at the thought that she might not be too many years away from her baby boy pulling into her driveway with a serious girlfriend in the passenger seat. Up to now, sports had consumed his every waking thought. That would shortly change.
“Hey.” Cassie Wainwright Owens sat down across from Kristen at the small bistro-style table. Her shirt today was maroon and featured a cat wearing glasses and riding a Segway. The younger woman had paired the graphic tee with simple dark jeans. Thanks to her job in the IT department, where she rarely—almost never—came in contact with the public, Cassie had a more casual style of work dress. “Is it okay if I join you?”
“Yes, of course.” Kristen smiled self-deprecatingly. “I was just lost in thought.”
“I’m sure.” Cassie hesitated a moment, as if deciding what to say next. Apparently, she chose the safe track. “How’s Mellie working out?”
“She was a perfect solution, thank you.” Setting the coffee mug down, Kristen reached across the table to place a hand over Cassie’s forearm. “You’ve been such a help. You and Trey. You seriously have no clue. That lasagna you sent over—”
“It was from a restaurant, remember,” Cassie said with a twinkle in her eye.
“It was still food we didn’t have to prepare or shop for or order ourselves.”
“I remember food being the thing that helped the most when my mom was sick.” Cassie took a sip from her own mug, her eyes turning distant for a moment, as if remembering the darker days. “Flowers were sweet but more of an inconvenience. Gift cards to restaurants helped, but we still had to order and pick it up. But the things that I remember most were the household help and the food.”
“And it was all worth it, because your mom’s doing wonderful. Right?”
“Yup.” The mention of her mother’s health today perked Cassie up. “She’s talking about visiting over her fall break. Naturally, that’s going to be right as the season is picking up, but hey, principals don’t get to pick their breaks any more than the students do.” She laughed a little. “I have a confession to make.”
“Oh? Do tell.”
“Food was one thing I can order from a restaurant like a champ. But cleaning? I can barely keep up with our own house.” Cassie grinned. “So I sent help. Irene is over at Coach Barnes’s house with Mellie, cleaning.” Cassie glanced at her watch, which looked like a sort of high-tech sports watch but likely did more than just tell time. “Actually, scratch that. She’s probably already done and gone.”
Kristen raised a brow at that. Cassie’s other half sister, Irene, worked part-time for Margaret Harrison’s cleaning service. It was a point of contention between Irene’s mother—Coach Jordan’s ex-wife—and the rest of the family. Irene wanted the independence of the paycheck—however small it was. Her mother was horrified at how “low” and “demeaning” the job was. But Kristen knew Coach Jordan was proud of his daughter for working hard, not taking a handout, and learning a little humility along the way.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I sort of did. I know Coach Barnes isn’t the kind to be sloppy, but with a new child in the mix, I figured he might let a few things slide. And yeah, you were there helping,” she added with a sly wink, “but it shouldn’t all fall to you either. I doubt the first thing you want to do when you get home tonight is wash a sink full of dishes or run the vacuum or wash a load of baby clothes.”
“I’m actually not going home tonight,” she said, then realized she’d called Clay’s house her home. “I mean, Isaac has a tournament out of town. We’re taking off right after I leave the office. I’ll be gone all weekend.”
“So Coach Barnes will be alone with the little guy all weekend?” Cassie’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “I’ll make sure Mellie is on standby.”
“Thanks.” As capable and levelheaded an adult Clay was, everyone needed a break. And he was still new to the parenting game. He hadn’t had a chance to build up a tolerance yet.
Cassie’s phone rang, and she pulled it out of her pocket to check the display. “Speak of the devil,” she murmured, then answered. “Hey Mellie, we were just talking about you,” she began with a huge smile, then the smile dimmed, and she held the phone out. “It’s for you.”
Kristen blinked then took the phone. “Hello?”
Mellie sighed. “Thank God. Finally. I called Cassie hoping she could find you, and you’re right there.”
“You could have called my cell,” Kristen reminded her. “I left my number on the tablet hanging on the fridge door.”
“I did. I’ve been calling Coach Barnes for an hour. Then I called your desk for the past ten minutes, but you weren’t picking up. I’d have called Dad but he’s out of the office today.”
“I’ve been on break, in the break room. So what’s up?” She strained her ears, but couldn’t hear any excessive crying.
“Stanley’s sick,” Mellie said bluntly. “I could handle a cough without panicking, but he’s throwing up and he’s running a fever too. I couldn’t find a child’s thermometer so I don’t know how high. I’d have taken him to the store to buy one, but I don’t have a car seat.”
“And Clay—sorry, Coach Barnes didn’t pick up when you called?” That didn’t sound like him at all. Kristen stood, leaving her mug where it sat. From the corner of her eye she saw Cassie pick it up and move it to the sink for her.
“No, I’ve left several messages. I know he’s not in the office today either or I would have tried the main lines. I’m not panicked,” Mellie added as Kristen began walking toward her desk. “I’m sure it’s just something mild. But I don’t see anything here to give him for the fever or have a way to check it, so…”
“Yes, absolutely. I’m so sorry you couldn’t reach us sooner.” Kristen reached her desk and stared down at her cell phone, which she’d left sitting under her monitor. Damn it. She wasn’t used to having to be available at the drop of a hat any longer. If Isaac was sick, the nurse let him go home on his own. He could get his own meds, take his own temperature. Ten minutes being unreachable wasn’t a big deal any longer. She thought she was past this stage.
Apparently not.
“So what should I do?” Mellie asked.
“I’m coming home. Just hang tight, and
wipe him down with a washcloth if he’ll let you. Nothing but water for right now, a few sips if he’s thirsty. Just keep him calm. I should be there in twenty.” She hung up and set Cassie’s phone down as she reached into the desk drawer for her purse. “Marge, I—”
“Go,” her coworker said, shooing her away. “Go help that sweet boy.” The older woman didn’t even blink at being left alone when Kristen had just gotten back from four days off.
“Thank you, Marge, I owe you.” Kristen reached in her purse for her keys, then jolted when a hand landed on her shoulder.
“Do you need someone to drive you?”
She turned to look at Cassie for a moment, struggling for thoughts. “I… No. It’s just something viral or an upset stomach maybe. He’ll be fine. I’ve been through it all before.”
So why did it feel so new all over again?
“If you need something, let me know. I’m sure Trey and I could run by with takeout for dinner later or whatever you might need.”
She nodded, but Cassie seemed to understand the gesture was more a general uh-huh than it was agreement. She walked with Kristen to the parking garage where the staff parked, then simply raised a hand in support as Kristen pulled out of the spot and headed home with only one goal in mind.
Getting to Stanley.
Clay walked out of the social work office building with a mixture of emotions churning inside him. His guardianship of Stanley was official, no longer temporary. They’d been unable to locate or identify his biological father—no surprise to Clay—and had decided to move forward with the official paperwork. Relief had his shoulders sagging.
But the reminder that he was only named the guardian because his sister was gone made the whole process bittersweet.
As he climbed in his truck, he noticed his cell phone sitting in the cup holder, still attached to the charger. He hadn’t remembered to take it out of the cup holder after he’d hung up with Mellie and distracted himself with the folder from the lawyer. “Damn,” he muttered, then hit the home button to wake the screen up. And blinked at the dozen notifications that glared back at him.
He saw Mellie’s missed calls and voice mails first, then Kristen’s. He started Mellie’s first voice mail as he pulled out of the parking spot, the sound coming through his truck speakers.
“Hey, Coach, it’s Mellie again, sorry to bother you. I just woke Stanley up, and he’s running a little hot, but I’m not sure if this is normal for him after a nap or not. Some kids work that way. I can’t find the child’s thermometer anywhere. Sorry, I went through your medicine cabinet. I swear I wasn’t snooping,” she added, and he could hear the sheepish smile in her voice. “So until I hear back from you, we’re just going to hang out here and try to stay cool.”
Her voice was calm but firm. In control. Clay felt at ease with her competence and didn’t panic. He let the next voice mail begin.
“Coach, hi. I’m sorry to keep bothering you, but I thought you’d want to know Stanley just threw up. We’re okay. I think he’s just got a bit of a bug. But I thought you’d like to be aware. Just an FYI thing.”
Throwing up? That was more than running warm after a long nap. Clay’s hands tightened on the wheel. The next voice mail was also hers.
“Coach, he’s still throwing up, and he’s getting warmer. I’m sure he’s just got the flu or something but I’d like to hear from you on how you want me to handle this. You might want to come home. He’s pretty miserable. I think he wants you. He wants a familiar face.”
In the background, Clay could hear Stanley’s whimpering, and he had to force himself to ease back on the gas. The last thing he needed was to be pulled over and waste precious time talking to a cop and getting a ticket—even a rightfully earned one.
The next voice was Kristen’s, and instantly his body relaxed at her soothing sound.
“Clay, I’m at home with Stanley. Mellie called when she couldn’t reach you. Don’t panic. Drive home safely. Everyone’s going to be fine. I’ve got this under control.”
He trusted her with his nephew—which at this point equaled his life. She would know what to do, how to handle a sick kid, and when the time was to give in and go to the doctor. She’d help. She’d handle it.
She’d…miss work.
Clay quickly glanced at the clock and realized it was past five. The last call had come in almost three hours ago, meaning she’d have gone home early. Not by much but enough. Kristen was a stickler for working her hours.
Just one more thing he’d brought into her life. Guilt gnawed at him as he carefully, deliberately drove the rest of the way home. When he pulled into his driveway, Mellie’s car was absent, but Kristen’s was there. He hopped out and raced inside to find them. Nobody was downstairs, so he hustled up, taking the steps two at a time. When he checked Stanley’s room and found it empty, he immediately headed for the master bedroom. He stopped short, doing his best not to disturb the scene he’d discovered.
Kristen lay on her side in the large master bed, the sheets covered by bath towels. Stanley lay beside her, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that indicated he was asleep or nearly so. His eyes were closed, but his cheeks were rosy with warmth. He was naked but for a diaper. Kristen’s hand rested over his stomach, moving in time with the boy’s breaths.
And she was humming again. Some oldies song he couldn’t place based on the melody alone but would probably know if she sang the lyrics. Not a traditional lullaby, but Stanley must have dug it enough to be lulled into sleep.
Kristen’s hair was damp and loose, and she wore a pair of Clay’s athletic shorts and one of his T-shirts. The thing was nearly a nightgown on her, but she’d tied a knot on the side by her hip.
Almost as if feeling his gaze, she looked up to find him in the doorway. With one finger on her lips, she nodded for him to come closer.
“He’s sleeping,” Kristen said, slowly removing her hand from the toddler’s stomach. When he twitched, she froze, her palm inches above his torso. But the boy settled back down, and she cautiously rolled off the bed in the other direction before placing several rolled up towels around him as a bumper. Then she walked into the hallway, asking him to follow.
Clay ran a hand through his hair, gripping the ends. “Does he need a doctor? Hospital?”
“No, no.” She cupped his cheek with a cool palm. “Nothing like that. It’s a bug. He’s running a fever, but it’s under one-oh-one. We’ll watch him through the night, and if it goes higher, we’ll reevaluate. He felt more comfortable in bed with me, so that’s what we did.” She grimaced. “I wasn’t thinking, and he sort of puked over the set of sheets that were already there. And me. Sorry about the extra laundry.”
“I couldn’t care less about the sheets,” he said with feeling.
She ran a hand through her damp hair and shook her head at his words, as if vaguely amused.
“What do we do now?”
“Clear liquids and the BRAT diet for the rest of the day and probably tomorrow. Lots of naps.”
“BRAT?” he asked weakly, feeling both relief that Stanley was fine and anger at himself for not being the one to respond to Mellie’s calls.
“Bananas, rice, applesauce, toast. Supposed to be foods that are easiest on his tummy when it’s off-balance.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “He’s fine, Clay. Kids get sick. They barf. It happens all the time. There was like, a year when Isaac was nine that I thought he’d never stop throwing up. The kid was constantly picking up bug after bug at school.”
She was trying to make him feel better. It made him feel worse. “You had to leave work early.”
“Only by a few hours. I got a lot done while I was there. They understand.”
Maybe their employer understood, but Clay didn’t. “When are you picking up Isaac for the tournament?”
The teasing light in her eyes dimmed just a little, and she briefly glanced to the side. “An hour ago. He’s already gone. Sent him on with another parent. They had enough chaperones alre
ady, so it’s fine. A few of the boys will just share our hotel room since it’s already paid for, and some lucky parents will have a room to themselves.”
He’d even fucked up her chance to watch her own son’s tournament. Something she’d said before was important to her. “You could still make it,” he started, but she shook her head.
“Isaac is fine. He was a doll and brought over a thermometer and some children’s Tylenol. He held Stanley while I showered off what he’d just projectile puked all over me, then took off. He’s riding with Dillon’s parents. Sometimes it’s more fun when you go to a tournament and your mom’s not right there, hovering. He’ll be fine.”
But what she didn’t say—didn’t have to say—was I’m not fine.
God. Clay closed his eyes and turned to the wall, letting his forehead rest. He was failing all over the damn place. One loss after another after another, pounding into him, pulling him under the water like relentless waves.
She would continue doing this, he realized then. She would sacrifice everything because she loved him. Or at least he thought she did. Because she was falling for Stanley. Of that he knew. Because she was such a damn good person, she wouldn’t put her own needs first. She’d give up everything she’d hoped for, everything she’d planned on in the future, for him. For them.
Clarity was as painful as it was necessary.
He knew what needed to happen, and it hurt like fucking hell.
Chapter 21
“Thank you.” His voice was hoarse but strong. Clearing his throat, he tried again. Because he had to be strong now. Assertive. “Thank you for being here. I left my cell phone in the truck by accident. I would have come—”
“Oh, Clay.” She hugged him from behind, her cheek resting against his back. Burning him with her understanding and lack of judgment. “I know that. Of course I know that. It never occurred to me for a second you were choosing to not come home.”
Changing Her Plans (Santa Fe Bobcats) Page 18