Me: I’ll pick you up after school today.
My phone beeps with a response seconds later.
Trey: Mom said to go with Roger.
Me: I’ll deal with your mom and Roger.
They’re always tardy, picking them up from school. If Claudia wants the kids, she’ll come to my house. Today isn’t the first time Claudia has said her life is in danger. Normally, when she says that, I grab my wallet. Even though I don’t one hundred percent believe her, doubt is still in the back of my mind, and I worry about the kids’ safety. Hell, I’m always concerned with their safety.
Let them come to my house.
I’ll be ready for that fight.
I’m not surprised when Roger and Claudia show up at my doorstep hours after school let out. Their breath reeks of alcohol, and the dilated pupils and scabs on Roger’s face confirm my suspicions that he’s using more than alcohol for getting high.
“I want my goddamn children,” Claudia screeches as soon as they come in.
I cross my arms. “Tough shit.”
I gulp and stand straight even though my heart is pounding when Roger lunges my way. Him coming closer results in Trey stepping to my side. Claudia scoffs, and a cynical laugh leaves Roger at Trey’s protective gesture.
This isn’t going to end well.
“Look at this badass,” Roger barks out, signaling to a fuming Trey.
Trey’s jaw is clenched, and his hands are knotted into fists. There’s a finally fed up expression on his face. Roger pressing him will make things worse between everyone.
“Fuck you,” Trey bites out. “We don’t want to leave with you.” His attention swings to Claudia. “I refuse to stay with you and your”—he tips his head toward Roger—“piece-of-shit boyfriend. You’ll have to drag me out.”
“That can be arranged, you little asshole,” Roger grits out before lunging toward Trey.
I kick my foot out, tripping Roger, and the floor vibrates when his body hits it. I use Trey’s shirt to pull him to the other side of the room while Roger gets up, and I rush to my purse.
“Stop!” I yell. “I’ll give you the fucking money. Hold on!”
The angry look on Roger’s face is why I’m giving in. I’m not risking the kids’ or my safety.
“Twenty-two hundred dollars,” Claudia demands, kissing Roger’s cheek in celebration of their win. “We’d prefer cash, but a check will do if you don’t have that much on you.”
“I’m not giving you twenty-two hundred dollars,” I say, shuffling through my bag until I find my wallet.
“If you want to keep them, that’s how much I want,” Claudia replies. “Take it or leave it.”
Trey takes a step forward and scowls at his mother in repulsion. “Whoa, whoa. Are you selling us for twenty-two hundred dollars?” He peers over at me with disbelief. “Is that what you’re giving her the money for? So we can stay here?”
Instead of answering him, I collect all the bills from my wallet, step forward, and shove it into Claudia’s chest. “There’s three hundred dollars. That’s all I have and all you’re getting. If you take it, you’ll leave and let the children stay here. You will not come tomorrow, begging for more money. This is your one chance. Take it or leave it.”
Roger snatches the money from her hand, counts it, and motions to the door.
“Fine,” Claudia draws out. “But I want them for the holidays.”
I nod. “I’ll let them spend a few hours with you.”
“I’m not spending a minute with her!” Trey screams.
“I don’t want to spend the holiday with your selfish ass,” Claudia spits out. “I only want to see your sister.”
“I want to see Mommy!”
Our attention goes to the hallway where Gloria is standing.
Perfect.
Hopefully, she didn’t witness too much of what just happened.
“Of course, honey,” Claudia says, leaning down and gesturing for Gloria to come over. “I’ll be here to pick you up.”
Gloria barrels down the hallway, right into her arms, giving her a hug. Claudia wraps her arms around her and squeezes her tight. It’s moments like this: where Claudia attempts to be a decent and loving parent that I somewhat feel bad for her, but then I remember how she operates. She’ll promise Gloria everything under the sun and then disappoint her. Then, I’ll be the one to pick up the pieces.
Gloria is the only person who says good-bye when they leave.
25
Kyle
Two Weeks Later
Unless fireworks are involved, holiday shifts are uneventful.
So far, this Thanksgiving, there hasn’t even been a failed deep-fried turkey attempt, so for the past two hours, Gage and I have been sitting idle in the car, talking shit to each other.
“Go talk to Chloe,” Gage says, repeating the same thing he’s said daily. “You look like hell.”
I take a swig of my coffee and settle it in the holder before answering him. “I look like hell because I had to survive a family dinner where the table conversation involved my ex-girlfriend’s family blackmailing my father out of thousands of dollars.”
He nods in understanding, but his words are the opposite of that. “A—quit being so dramatic. I know it fucking hurts to be lied to, but it happened. B—listen to her side of the story. You’ve only heard your father’s, who’s a man you can’t stand, by the way.” He sighs. “Do you remember what happened when Lauren hid secrets from me and wouldn’t explain herself?”
“Yes, you skipped town for years.” I grab my coffee and bump his shoulder with the side of the cup. “Is that what I’m supposed to do?”
“No, that’s what I don’t want to happen. Skip that part. From experience, I can tell you, it’s miserable. Talk to her. Maybe you can work shit out.”
“Even if we do work shit out, what am I supposed to tell my family? They hate her.”
“Your family is understanding and forgiving.”
“And you’re usually not, so what gives? Why are you all of a sudden Team Chloe?”
“Let me make this clear; I’m always Team Motherfucking Kyle. Always. As for that, I see this is tearing you apart. You liked her, or still like her, but won’t listen to her side of the story. No matter what, you owe her that.” He inhales a deep breath. “When everything came to the surface with why Lauren did what she did, a heavy weight was lifted off our shoulders. It was the push we needed to move on and be happy. Be grateful Chloe isn’t making you wait years.” He blows out a breath. “I’m not telling you to get back with her. All I’m saying is, clear the air. You’re pissed, I get it, but all of this is because of your father.”
“I hate when you’re right,” I grumble. “Maybe—” I’m interrupted by the dispatcher’s voice on the police radio, informing us of a car accident report.
“On it,” Gage replies to her. “We’re only minutes away from the scene. Call the medics just in case.”
He flips the lights, and the car sirens blare through the dark streets and pouring rain. It becomes difficult to see once we hit the unlit back road.
“There,” I say, pointing to the view of bright headlights.
He swerves over to the side of the road, and we both jump out as soon as the car is in park. An old sedan is crashed into a tree, the lights shining bright, and smoke is coming from the hood. We sprint through the field to the car, hostile rain showering down on us.
I’m there first, and I shine my flashlight into the driver’s side to find a woman. She’s motionless, her forehead resting on the steering wheel. A bottle of opened vodka and drug paraphernalia is in the passenger seat. I hold the light while Gage manages to open the door.
He rushes to take her pulse. “Still alive.”
A rush of relief hits me. “Thank God.” I move my attention to the backseat. “There’s a passenger.”
I’m soaked, blinking away the drops hitting me, and the door creaks when I open it. I flash my light on the backseat, and fear twists thr
ough my stomach. A chill colder than the icy rain pelting my face runs through my veins. My heart sinks into my stomach while an intense pain hits me.
“No!” I scream with a shaky voice while crawling to the body slumped against the backseat. She’s half off the seat, and her cheek is resting against the floor. “No!”
“Motherfucker!” Gage yells behind me, and I hold a breath before checking her pulse. “Kyle, talk to me!”
I cradle the body in my arms, my chin trembling, and I look back to see EMTs running our way with a gurney.
“Here!” I scream at the top of my lungs. “Here now! Help me!”
I crawl out and carefully help them pull the limp body from the car.
The EMT looks at me with dread and confirms what I already know. “DOA.”
I step in front of them, and my breathing is ragged as I attempt to do CPR.
Gage comes to my side, grabs my elbow, and stops me. “Brother, don’t.”
“No!” I yell, my hands going back to her chest. “Let me try! I can fix this!”
“I’m sorry,” the EMT says. “Even with CPR, which will do more damage to her body, there’s nothing we can do to save her. There’s severe blunt force trauma to the head, and she’s lost too much blood.”
She looks at me with wide eyes filled with sadness. “Trust me, if there was anything I could do, I’d be fighting for it right now.”
I scrub my hand over my face and scream before looking at the EMTs helping the driver onto another gurney.
“You stupid bitch!” I yell, advancing toward her.
All my morals dissipate in this moment, and it’s scary to say there’s no doubt in my mind that I could walk away from this scene without giving the driver a second look.
Gage throws his arm out to stop me while the EMTs look at me as if I’ve lost my mind. “Kyle, calm down!” He tilts his head toward the EMTs moving the passenger up the hill. “Help them get her into the ambulance!”
I nod, turn around, and run up the hill. Even though putting her in the ambulance won’t stop the outcome of tonight, she deserves to be out of the rain, deserves a lot more than this. I don’t slide into the warmth of the car after I help them. They shut the door in my face, the sirens wailing through the unlit road.
Gage helps the medics with the driver when the second ambulance leaves shortly after the first. We silently stand there, soaked, staring at the scene, wishing we could’ve changed it, that we could’ve driven faster, run faster, saved her.
“You need to go, Kyle,” Gage finally says. “The investigators are on their way to the hospital, and I’ll meet them there to tell them everything. If they need any additional information, they’ll call you.”
“No,” I grit out. “I want to be there.”
“You’re too pissed to go there, and the investigators will immediately make you go home out of conflict of interest. Monroe is on his way here, and we’re driving to the hospital. You have somewhere else to be.”
I get into the car, drive home, and sprint to a porch that isn’t mine.
The door swings open.
“Kyle?”
26
Chloe
I blink a few times as if I’m imagining Kyle standing in front of me. Water drips from every inch of him, and my stomach knots at the sight of his trembling hands. Anguish covers his face like a blanket while he stares at me with fear-stricken eyes.
What the …
This is unexpected.
“Chloe. Can I come in?”
His question snaps me to my senses. “Of course,” I answer, moving aside to allow him room to step into the entryway. “You must be freezing.” I shut the door behind us. “Let me grab you a towel.” I’m stopped when he reaches out and closes his cold hand around mine.
“I don’t need a towel.” He squeezes my hand, and water falls along my bare toes when I look into his damp-lashed eyes. “We need to talk.”
This isn’t a courtesy visit.
“What’s going on, Kyle?” I question.
Do I want to know?
Instead of answering me, he lightly touches my shoulder with his free hand and brushes away a strand of loose hair fallen from my ponytail. “Let’s sit down.”
Dread falls upon me as he leads me to the couch, and I sit on the edge of the cushion. “Please tell me what’s going on,” I stammer out. “You’re scaring me.”
He retreats a step and casts me a terrified glance. “There was an accident.”
The tone of his voice heightens my panic. This accident will affect me. I don’t speak. I wait for him to continue. I wait for him to break me down more than what I already am.
He drops to his knees only inches away and clears his throat. He blinks away tears before using his arm to wipe them away again.
He stares up at me with a pale face, and his voice cracks as he prepares to deliver bad news. “Your sister …” He pauses, as if searching for the right words. “She hit a tree while driving.”
I jerk my head back. “What? Is she going to be okay?”
His jaw clenches. “She’s on her way to the hospital right now.”
A burst of relief hits me. “Thank God.” That relief suddenly filters into dread. “Gloria … Gloria is with her tonight. Is she at the hospital with her? Is everything all right?” I pull away from him and jump up in search of my purse. “I need to go get her.”
Kyle stands. “Chloe …” He says my name in caution, as if I were about to walk off a cliff.
My heart caves into my chest as dread sets in. “I have to go to the hospital. I need to get Gloria.”
“Chloe …” His voice deepens as he erases the gap between us.
I push his chest and hold my finger up in front of him. “Don’t.” I walk away from him, and my voice trembles. “Don’t you dare fucking say it!”
He grabs my shoulders, turns me around, and drags me into his chest. “Gloria was in the car with her.”
“Don’t you say it,” I whisper, stifling a scream. “Don’t you dare fucking say it!”
His hold on me tightens, and his lips brush against my hair. “I’m so sorry, Chloe.”
“No! No!” I yell, flares of anger shooting through me as he grasps me. I struggle to break free. “Let me leave, Kyle!” My arms fly in every direction, and I’m certain they’ve made contact with him a few times, but he doesn’t flinch, just keeps a secure hold on me.
“You’re not driving in this condition,” he says.
My body shakes. “I need to go to her!”
He pulls in a thick breath. “There’s nowhere to go for her.”
Kyle doesn’t have to tell me. I already know.
“Whoa, whoa,” Trey interrupts while stepping into the room, yawning. “What’s going on in here?” He shoots Kyle a hard glare before puffing out his chest.
Kyle loosens his hold on me and makes sure I’m not a runner before releasing me completely. “Hey, buddy. Why don’t you go to your room for a minute?” he tells Trey.
I rub my face, my eyes, my arms. My hands need to be busy or else I’ll throw something across the room.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Trey replies with a clenched jaw when he notices the condition I’m in. “Why are you here?”
I gulp and press my hand into Kyle’s stomach, stopping him from telling Trey. I need to do it. I have to do it. Kyle only nods, and I make my way to Trey.
“There was an accident with your mom and Gloria,” I whisper. “A car accident.”
Trey tenses but stays quiet.
“Gloria …”
Concern flickers across his face. He helped raise Gloria and was more of a father to her than her own. He was the one who made sure she went to school, had every meal, and did her homework.
“What happened to her?” Trey grits out with knotted fists.
“I’m sorry, honey, but Gloria …” I glance over at Kyle for confirmation, just in case I’m wrong, and he gives me a solemn nod. I shake my head before giving him a look of desperati
on. I need him to say it, to make the final call, because those words can’t leave my mouth. I’m too weak.
Kyle gives me another nod and steps to my side. “Gloria passed away tonight, Trey.” His tone isn’t one of a policeman breaking the news to an unsuspecting family. He’s heartbroken. He feels for Trey. For us. For Gloria.
Trey’s face twists in pain as he registers Kyle’s statement, and his hands start shaking. “What? How? No, this can’t be true. I saw her earlier today. She was fine. We went on a walk, and she told me about the new book she checked out from the library! She was fine!” His eyes change from a hardened state to a fearful one. “You’re wrong, man. You’re wrong!” Trey says with tears streaming down his face.
I rush forward to hug him. He shrugs away and pulls his phone from his pocket but is unable to hold it with his shaking hands. It falls to the floor, the thud ringing out through the grave silence, and he reaches down and picks it up in haste.
“I’m calling Mom,” he explains, punching his fingers against the screen. “She’ll tell you everything is okay. They’re probably eating ice cream while Gloria talks about her dolls.”
“Trey,” Kyle says softly.
“No!” he screams. “I’m calling her! You’ve made a mistake!”
He holds the phone to his ear as tears slide down his face. “Pick up, Mom. Please. Just pick up the phone.” His shouts grow louder. “Pick up!”
I know it goes to voice mail when he blurts out, “Goddamn it.”
He starts to dial again, but Kyle takes the phone from him.
Surprisingly, Trey doesn’t fight him for it back. Instead, he sinks down on the couch, his face stricken with tears. I rush over, wrapping my arms around him, capturing his loud sobs in my shoulder.
“I’m so sorry,” I say over and over again while brushing my hand over his hair. “I’m so sorry, Trey.”
His face is red when he pulls away. “Mom?”
“She’s in the hospital right now. I’m not sure what’s going on, but she’s alive,” I answer.
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