Gabe watched his son for a moment, but Cooper didn’t say anything more. And that bugged him. Cooper not liking quiet time didn’t fit. Quiet time, Gabe knew, involved lying down on mats for about thirty minutes. Some of the kids napped, but if they didn’t, they could listen to music on little headsets or look at books. But they couldn’t talk, and they couldn’t get up and run around. Cooper should love quiet time. Books, music, being left alone.
They did turn the lights down, though. It was in the middle of the day, so the room would hardly be completely dark, but was that the issue? It didn’t make sense that Cooper would be afraid of the dark, but it could be that he couldn’t see his book well enough and felt he needed the flashlights for that.
Something about that didn’t feel right, though.
“Why don’t you like quiet time?” Addison asked Stella, her eyes on Gabe.
Gabe loved her so freaking much. The enormity of that hit him hard. He’d always known that he would like to have someone to parent with. His mom and Logan were huge helps, of course, and his mother loved Cooper with all her heart. But there was something different about having someone who was going through the same things at the same time. Caroline was Cooper’s grandmother. That was simply different, no matter what actual things she did for Cooper. Having Addison there, supporting and encouraging him, was a big deal. But what was really staggering was how amazing it was to have Stella in Cooper’s life. A sibling. Someone who got him in a way no one else in the family could.
Gabe focused on Stella’s answer to Addison’s question. The why was a big deal here, and maybe if Stella spoke first, Cooper would also share.
“It’s boring,” Stella said predictably. “I like to do things.”
Stella read, Gabe knew, but yeah, he couldn’t imagine her lying still for thirty minutes to do it.
“What about you, Coop?” Gabe asked casually. “Why don’t you like quiet time?”
Cooper shrugged. “It’s boring.”
Yeah, that wasn’t it. Gabe knew his kid. Okay, he let some—or a lot—of the discipline go to Caroline. And yeah, he liked to be the one who played and had fun with Cooper rather than the one laying down the rules and consequences. But come on, Cooper was an easy kid. He didn’t need a lot of rules, and he didn’t break the ones he did have very often. Okay, so Logan did a lot of helping with projects like when Cooper had wanted to try doing a model airplane. And Caroline did a lot of the caretaking when Cooper was sick. But dammit, Gabe knew his kid.
“Cooper,” Gabe said gently, waiting until his son lifted his eyes, “I know you like quiet time. Or you used to. What happened?”
Gabe didn’t miss the way Cooper’s hand went to the alligator flashlight hanging from his belt loop. He clutched the plastic shape tightly. “Nothing.”
Gabe frowned. “Cooper, you can tell me. If something happened, I want to know.”
“It’s okay now,” Cooper said.
Well, that wasn’t a flat-out denial.
“What’s okay now?” Gabe pressed, feeling his chest tighten.
“I have the flashlights, so I like it again now.”
“You like what again now?” Gabe asked.
“Quiet time.”
“So you need more light during quiet time?” Addison asked, her tone encouraging.
Cooper nodded.
“Why? Is it suddenly too dark?” Gabe asked. That was just strange.
“It just was. But now it’s okay. I’m braver now,” Cooper said.
Nope, that wasn’t okay. Gabe looked at Stella. “Stella, do you know what happened?”
Stella bit her bottom lip, looking so much like her mother for a moment that Gabe felt his heart lurch. Stella looked at Addison. Addison gave her daughter a little frown. “Stella Ann Sloan,” she said firmly, “if you know something we should know, you have to tell us.”
“The older boys put Cooper in the cupboard in the bathroom during quiet time,” Stella said. “They said they were going to make him be braver because he was being a baby,” she added, her voice rising slightly with indignation.
Gabe’s gut twisted, and he actually felt sick. He stared at his son. “Coop,” he said, his voice rough.
“Cooper,” Addison said, jumping in, her voice soothing and calm, “is that what happened?”
He nodded, his expression suddenly miserable. A combination of sadness and hurt but also humiliation. Gabe felt almost dizzy with the emotions crashing through him. No. Someone had hurt his son? No. Fuck no.
“So some of the boys at day care put you in a cupboard in the bathroom?” Addison reiterated.
Gabe looked at her sharply. Her voice was steady, mostly, but he heard the little wobble. Cooper nodded, and Gabe felt the tear in his heart widen.
“Did they hurt you?” Addison asked, a fierceness in her voice that Gabe had never heard before.
Cooper shook his head.
“It was just really dark and scary,” Stella said.
“Stella, I would really like Cooper to tell me this,” Addison said calmly. “But thank you.”
“It was dark. Totally dark the first time,” Cooper finally said.
The first time? Gabe willed Addison to ask the question because he couldn’t get any air past the tightness in his throat. He had no idea what to do here. He reached for his son, holding his other arm wide, and Cooper took the invitation to climb into his lap. Gabe wrapped his arms around him and held on. But he wasn’t sure if he was trying to comfort Cooper or himself.
“But they didn’t hurt you? They didn’t push you or hit you or anything?” Addison said, leaning in closer.
Again, Gabe heard the shakiness in her voice, and it strangely made him feel better. He wasn’t quite able to speak and was incredibly glad she could, but it helped him to know that he wasn’t the only adult who wanted to do some potential damage to the kids at Cooper’s day care.
“No,” Cooper told her. “They’re bigger than me. When they said to get in, they kind of pushed me, but I just got in. And it’s big.” He glanced at Stella. “It’s not a cupboard. It’s a closet. I could move around.”
Gabe almost laughed. Being stuck in a dark closet all alone was so much better. But he supposed it was, in some ways.
“But you—” Stella started.
“But you were afraid because it was dark,” Addison said over the top of her daughter, who kept quiet after that. “I’m very glad they didn’t hurt you by pushing or hitting, but they still hurt you this way. And that’s not okay.”
She had a look on her face that made Gabe want to grab her and kiss her. She looked ready to take someone’s head off, and the fact that she was feeling so protective and angry on Cooper’s behalf made Gabe want her more than he ever had.
“Where was Miss Linda?” Addison asked.
A wave of anger swept through Gabe at her question. Yes, where in the fuck was Miss Linda?
“She has coffee with Miss Heather during quiet time,” Cooper said, naming the woman who was in charge of the older group of kids at the day care center.
“So she didn’t know this happened?” Addison asked before Gabe could.
Cooper shook his head.
“Why didn’t you tell her, honey?” Addison asked, gentling her tone.
Cooper shrugged. “They said I should be brave.”
“So now he has the flashlight, and he turns that on so he can stay in there and they think he’s very brave,” Stella said.
Addison’s expression softened, and she gave Stella a smile, but Gabe could see she was gritting her teeth as she said, “Well, I think that was a really great solution. But we need to tell Miss Linda about this.”
“It was Stella’s idea,” Cooper said.
Stella beamed, and Gabe leaned over to see that Cooper was looking at Stella as if she’d hung the moon.
Gabe’s heart squeezed so hard that he had to rub a hand over his chest.
Stella had been there for Cooper. She’d saved the day. She’d helped him get over his fe
ar. She’d made him feel safe.
Gabe hadn’t done any of that.
He hadn’t even asked why Cooper suddenly felt the need to collect flashlights. Out of the blue. For no apparent reason. He hadn’t even asked.
The tightness in his chest and gut intensified, and he squeezed his eyes shut.
“Ow, Daddy, you’re squishing me,” Cooper protested, wiggling in Gabe’s lap.
Gabe loosened his hold but couldn’t completely let Cooper go.
“Cooper, I’m going to stop by tomorrow and have lunch with you,” Addison said. “Would that be okay?”
Gabe’s eyes snapped open. “What?” he managed to push past the lump in his throat.
Addison met his eyes. “I’m going to have lunch with Cooper. And maybe have a chat with Miss Linda.”
Wow. Gabe wasn’t sure what to say. Part of him, a really big part of him, wanted that. He wanted Addison to go down there and deal with this. He had no doubt that Addison Sloan would leave Linda with no question about how she—how they—felt about what had happened and how she expected Linda to solve the problem. She would likely be sure she spoke to the day care’s owner and possibly the parents of the boys responsible.
He wanted her to take care of it.
And he felt almost instantly horrible.
He swallowed and opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, Cooper looked up at him. “Can you come to lunch, too, Dad?”
Dammit. Yes, of course he could. And more, he fucking should.
“Yeah, buddy, I can. In fact, maybe just you and me, what about that?”
“Okay.”
Cooper grinned up at him, and Gabe felt guilt and love and frustration and a bit of humiliation slide through him. He hadn’t gone to lunch with Cooper before. He hadn’t had a meeting with Miss Linda before. He’d attended the initial open house. He’d shown up for the Christmas program. He’d read the weekly reports of what activities Cooper had participated in. But he’d read “wonderful student, enjoy having him” and “gets along well with others” and “curious and bright” and had felt proud and like everything was fine. He’d never asked for more in-depth reports. He’d never visited otherwise.
And he felt like shit.
“I don’t mind,” Addison said softly. “I’d love to see Cooper’s day care.”
Gabe nodded but didn’t meet her eyes. “I know. But I should do this.” God, it would be so much easier to let her do it. She’d probably had dozens of meetings with teachers and day care providers. She’d probably read the reports and asked follow-up questions. She’d probably been to lunches and programs and chaperoned field trips and been on planning committees for holiday parties. Addison didn’t just show up to see her kid sing a couple of Christmas songs, eat a frosted snowman cookie, and then head back to work.
“Cooper,” Addison said, “I’m really glad the flashlights have helped. And I’m glad that you talked to Stella about this. But I want you to know that you can talk to your dad and me about things, too. You don’t have to keep all of this to yourself.”
The feelings of guilt and inadequacy crept through Gabe again, his gut tightening. He wanted to yell and cuss and punch things. Instead, he sat on the floor of his son’s bedroom, holding him and letting his girlfriend say all the right things and reassure Cooper. Because Gabe didn’t know what the fuck he was doing.
Gabe kissed the top of Cooper’s head, then gently sat him on the floor next to Stella. “Okay, bud, I think maybe it’s time for bed. How about you brush your teeth and then I’ll come back in after Stella and Addison leave to read to you.”
He swore he could hear Addison’s frown, and he glanced up to find her looking at him with a combination of surprise and hurt. Yeah, he’d been really subtle there. He knew that was kind of a shitty way to handle this and ask her to leave, but he needed to get his mind around all of this. He needed to step up here, and he wasn’t sure how, and sitting here with Supermom suddenly wasn’t helping.
He loved Addison. He loved that she was a mom. He loved her daughter.
But in comparison, he was fucking things up, and frankly, at the moment, he didn’t need that reminder.
“Okay, Stell Bell,” Addison said. “How about you and Cooper clean up all the markers and stuff, and then brush your teeth?”
“Already?” Stella protested. “But we’re not done.”
And he was tearing his son away from his friend. The one person who had been there for him, who he felt he could tell about what had happened, the person who made him feel brave.
Fuck.
Gabe jammed a hand through his hair and got to his feet. He loved Stella, and the things she’d done for Cooper made her one of his favorite people. But he couldn’t handle this right now. He couldn’t look at her brave, happy face, knowing that she would have never gotten stuck in a fucking closet at day care. No way would Stella have put up with that. And he hated the idea that he might sit here and not only compare himself to Addison but compare Cooper to Stella.
He started for the door. “I’ll be right downstairs, Coop,” he said. He just needed a little space for a second. “Help Stella clean up and come on down.”
“Okay, Dad.”
He got to the doorway before Cooper asked, “Are you coming for lunch tomorrow?”
Gabe swallowed hard before he turned back. “Absolutely.” He was going to have this talk with Miss Linda tomorrow. He had no fucking idea what he was going to say, but yeah, this shit with Cooper and these kids was ending now.
Gabe got to the living room and was headed for the kitchen before he heard, “What the hell was that, Gabe?”
Swearing under his breath, he turned to find Addison striding toward him. Of course. He knew that she’d follow. That didn’t mean he had any clue what to say to her.
“That was me being Cooper’s dad,” he responded.
Addison stopped about ten feet away and crossed her arms. “I see. And you thought I was overstepping?”
He sighed. “No. Not exactly.”
“But you don’t want me involved with this. You don’t want me going to talk to Miss Linda,” she said. It wasn’t a question.
Gabe just looked at her for a long moment. She was so damned beautiful. Not just the hair and the eyes and the body—that body that he could lose himself in for days—but all of her. Her confidence, her passion for her work, her intelligence and humor and sweetness under the kick-ass-ness. And there was the way she looked at Stella, the way she looked at him, the way she looked at Cooper—all of that took his breath away. He could so easily fall into this woman and give it all up to her. And that wouldn’t be the worst thing. At all. It would be good for Cooper. It would be good for him. But it would be the easy way out, and ironically, over the last several weeks with her, he wanted more and more to be the father who truly stepped up and made his kid’s life better and was all in on everything. Addison had made it clear that she hadn’t wanted motherhood, yet when it happened, she’d owned it and worked her ass off and was amazing at it.
Gabe felt his throat tightening. It would be so fucking easy to just let her do it, to just turn it over, to just invite her in for all of it. He wanted that so badly. He’d wanted it since he’d first found out about Stella.
But why did he want it? Because he wanted to parent with her or because she would parent for him?
He knew he wasn’t being totally rational, but he couldn’t stop the thoughts and emotions rolling through him. He would love to stop the thoughts and emotions. They felt like they were rolling over him, like a steamroller, squeezing everything out of him—his own confidence in his parenting, and satisfaction with his life, and pride in how Cooper was turning out. None of that was him. Not really. Not fully. Sure, he loved Cooper, and he knew his son knew that. He made Cooper feel secure and loved and valued. But Cooper hadn’t felt like he could come to Gabe with what had happened. Gabe hadn’t even noticed something was going on.
How could he be proud of that? His mother did most of the a
ctual work.
Gabe had no right to feel satisfied with how things were or confident in the job he was doing.
“I do want you to go talk to Miss Linda,” Gabe finally said. “I want it so much I can taste it.”
She frowned. “Then let me do it. I promise that I’ll—”
He didn’t need to hear the rest. He knew that she would do anything and everything that needed done. No question about it.
“I have to do this, Ad. This is my responsibility. He’s my son.”
She flinched slightly, and Gabe cursed. That had sounded worse than he’d meant it. “Ad, I—”
“No, I get it,” she interrupted. “And you’re right. He’s your son. And you should do it.”
“I just . . . need to. I feel like absolute hell right now. I had no idea anything was going on.” He ran a hand over his face. “How the fuck could I not know?”
“I didn’t know. None of us did.”
“But I should have. God, if he can’t tell me things . . .” Gabe forced himself to breathe. “I need him to be able to tell me things.”
“He wasn’t alone, Gabe,” Addison said. “He had Stella.”
He knew she meant that to be reassuring, but that did nothing to help his emotions. “Great. He had a five-year-old girl who he just met who’s not even at that day care comforting him,” Gabe said. “Someone who decided that the solution was to start carrying around flashlights everywhere he went.”
Addison’s expression hardened. Okay, so he was criticizing her daughter. Not a great move. No way was Addison going to let that go.
“Well, as you pointed out, she’s five,” Addison said coolly. “She did what she could to help her friend.”
“That wasn’t all she could do,” Gabe said, feeling the frustration and guilt rising up again. “She could have told us what was going on.”
Addison sucked in a quick breath. Neither of them said anything for a long moment. Then she swallowed. And nodded. “You’re right.”
The look on Addison’s face dragged the air out of Gabe’s lungs. She looked devastated suddenly.
“Ad—”
But she shook her head quickly. “No, you’re right. Stella . . . she’s so independent. She tries to solve her own problems. I encourage that. I mean, sometimes. Little things. Like what to do if she runs out of gold glitter. And we talk about what to do if she gets lost in a store. But . . .” She stopped and swallowed again. “Maybe it’s too much. Maybe I’ve taught her that she has to depend on herself and not on me.”
Going Down Easy (Boys of the Big Easy) Page 20