by Dorie Graham
She stood straight and tall before him. “I’m not doing therapy.”
“But you have to think about Grey. He’s counting on you to get better.”
Her eyes flashed with anger. “You don’t think I know that?”
“Then let’s find someone else,” he said.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “That isn’t going to happen.”
This was all too familiar. Lucas’s throat burned. “And I have no say in the matter?”
Tears ran down her cheeks. “Not if you insist on therapy.”
“Then I can’t do this, Claire. I can’t stand by and watch you destroy what’s left of your life. I can’t watch you do this to yourself. I can’t watch you do it to Grey.”
“I’m sorry, Lucas.” She wrapped her arms around her middle.
“So am I,” he said and then walked out the door.
He should never have come back. He should have gotten her through last night, then wished her luck. She had needed him and he’d rushed to the rescue. But nothing had changed.
He’d rushed to her because he had felt responsible. His illogical heart had sent him right back into the fray. He had only one thing left to do.
He had to let go.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
THE CLOCK IN Grey’s classroom ticked closer and closer to the final bell. Grey bounced in his seat.
Paul Cooper leaned across the aisle. “Do you need a bathroom pass?”
Grey frowned. “No.”
Paul shrugged. “You’re just bouncing like you have to go to the bathroom.”
“I don’t,” Grey said. “I’m just...excited.”
Today, even nosy Paul Cooper wasn’t going to bother him.
I’m okay and I’m going to get help. Will see you after school tomorrow and we’ll talk.
He glanced again at the clock, willing the bell to ring. Mom would be in the pickup line. That had to be what she meant, because he never saw her after school. It was always Aunt Becca and then Gram who picked him up. He never saw Mom until late, when she got him from Gram’s.
And she said she was getting help, so Lucas’s plan had worked and they could go back to being normal now. She must be better and ready to start working at home again. That’s probably what she meant about seeing him after school.
“So what are you excited about?” Paul asked.
When was the bell going to ring? “I’m just happy to see my mom, is all. She’s coming to get me today.”
“Cool,” Paul said.
“She’s really doing great and she’s seeing this guy who’s super cool and they’re probably going to get married,” Grey said, the words tumbling from his mouth. Okay, so that last part was a bit of a stretch, but now that Lucas had fixed Mom, she wouldn’t be running him off anymore. What was to stop them from getting married? It was just a matter of time.
“Awesome,” Paul said as, thankfully, the bell rang.
“See you,” Grey said, then shouldered his book bag and pushed out into the crowd of kids spilling into the hallway.
Excitement pumped through him as he hit the front curb and scanned the cars for the Honda. But his mom’s car was nowhere in sight. Instead, Aunt Becca waved to him from her usual spot at the front of the line.
There must have been a mistake. He opened the door. “Hi, Aunt Becca, what are you doing here? Mom’s coming to get me today.”
Aunt Becca frowned. “I don’t know about that, Grey. She didn’t say anything to me.”
He showed her the text, pointing out the part about after school. “See? She wouldn’t have said that if she wasn’t coming to get me. I think I should wait for her.”
“Sweetie, I don’t think she’s coming. Didn’t something happen last night? Gram said you stayed with her. Is everything okay?”
“Yes,” Grey said. “Everything’s great.”
“Let’s call your mom.” Aunt Becca reached for her purse.
“I’ll call her,” he said, gesturing to the phone. “I have her phone, so we have to call Lucas.”
Becca glanced at the line of cars behind her. “Grey, why don’t you get in while we figure this out?”
Grey dialed, but Lucas’s cell just rang and rang. Shaking his head, he settled himself in the passenger seat, leaving his seat belt unbuckled. After all, he wasn’t actually going home with his aunt.
Lucas’s voice mail finally kicked in. “Hi, Lucas, this is Grey. I’m at the school and Mom said she was coming to get me and she isn’t here. Can you have her call me on her cell phone, please?”
“Honey, why don’t you buckle up? She can come get you from our house. That text didn’t say she was picking you up, just that she’d see you.”
The cell phone in Grey’s hand buzzed. He smiled and showed the display to his aunt. “It’s her.”
He answered the call. “Mom?”
“Grey, it’s Lucas. I’m sorry, I forgot you had your mom’s phone.”
“I’m at the school and Aunt Becca came to get me, but I told her Mom was coming. That’s what she said last night when she texted me. Didn’t you get my message?”
“I didn’t listen to it. I saw the missed call and called back. But I just left your mom and I don’t think she’s coming to get you.”
“But she said she’d see me after school and what else would that mean?” Grey asked as frustration swelled in him. Where was Mom?
“I don’t know, Grey. She was pretty out of it last night. She probably forgot she sent you that message,” Lucas said.
“But she’s better, right?” Grey asked.
A horn honked behind them. Aunt Becca leaned across him and grabbed his seat belt. “I’m just going to buckle you in, so we can get moving.”
Grey wanted to growl. “Wait.” But his aunt had already clicked the buckle in place and was pulling from the curb.
“Grey, she’s still struggling,” Lucas said.
“What?” Grey asked, pressing the phone closer against his ear. He must not have heard Lucas right. “You took care of her last night and she got more help today. The text said she was getting help. So, isn’t she better?”
“Oh, buddy, I’m so sorry,” Lucas said. “It’s never that easy, not even in the simplest of cases and your mom’s case is very complicated. She tried, Grey. She went to see a therapist today.”
“Good, so she just forgot to come get me like she said.” He turned to his aunt. “Is she home? Maybe I can get Aunt Becca to drop me off there.”
“Grey, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I left your mom at your house, but she was in a bad way. And you know how she is. She’s either left already or...she isn’t going to want to see anyone.”
Grey’s stomach roiled as if he were going to be sick. “What do you mean she’s in a bad way?”
“It means we’re off to a rocky start on the therapy. This thing is going to take a while, Grey. She has a lot to work through and she’s going to have to do it in her own way, on her own schedule.”
“So you didn’t fix her?”
Lucas was silent for a long moment. “No, Grey, I’m so sorry. I didn’t fix her.”
* * *
LUCAS’S ALREADY DARK mood worsened as he reviewed the nightly deposit report. Ken shifted beside him, squeezing his hands together.
“I should have said something sooner, Lucas. I’m sorry. I thought it would work out. He’s a good kid. I thought he’d be back.”
“Wait,” Lucas said. “What are you saying? Where’s the deposit for this past Thursday?”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” Ken said. He shook his head. “I don’t want to rat anyone out.”
“Just tell me, Ken.” He glanced at the schedule on his tablet. “Ramsey closed with you that night.”
“Yes,” Ken said.
“Are you saying Ramsey took the deposit to the night drop box and hasn’t been seen since?” He stood and began pacing.
Damn it, he needed to hit something. First Lady, then Claire, now Ramsey. Wh
at good was he? He hadn’t helped a single one of them.
“I tried calling him, but he doesn’t answer,” Ken said. “Maybe I should check the hospitals.”
“He’s not in the hospital.” Lucas shook his head. He’d been so tied up with Claire and Grey, he hadn’t paid any attention to Ramsey. “I’m sure we have an emergency contact for him, though. We should probably check that.”
“I did.”
Lucas turned to Ken. “And?”
“It was his mom. I called and got her voice mail. I left a message.” He shrugged. “She never called me back.”
A movement near the stockroom door caught their attention. Lucas didn’t know whether to be angry or relieved as Ramsey strode toward them, the night deposit bag tucked under his arm. He walked over to them and dropped the bag on the desk.
He faced Lucas, his hands spread. “Before you say anything, please hear me out.”
Lucas folded his arms, but remained silent.
“I’ll be out front,” Ken said, and then hurried out of the stockroom.
Ramsey took a moment to collect himself, then started talking. “I screwed up. I know that. You have been nothing but good to me and I’ve felt awful about taking the money. I wouldn’t have taken it if it weren’t really important.” He gestured toward the bag. “I brought back as much as I could, but I couldn’t get it all.”
“How much?” Lucas asked. Not that the amount mattered. The boy had stolen from him.
“How much is missing?”
“Yes, Ramsey, how much did you steal from The Coffee Stop?” Lucas couldn’t keep the anger from his voice.
Ramsey stared at the floor. “About four hundred dollars. There’s an IOU in the bag. I’m going to pay it back. You can take it right out of my wages.”
“You think you still have a job here?”
The color drained from the boy’s face. “I...please, I know I messed up. I didn’t know what else to do. I just want to make it right.”
Lucas shook his head. It didn’t matter what the reasons were. Ramsey had proven himself untrustworthy. “You don’t get how serious this is, do you?” Lucas asked. “I should file a police report. It wouldn’t be juvie court this time. No closed record.”
Ramsey dropped his head and nodded. “I understand. You do whatever you have to.” He met Lucas’s gaze. “I’ll still try to make it up to you somehow and I will pay you back.”
God, Lucas was tired. “I don’t know if you can, Ramsey.” He clenched his fist. “I won’t report the theft, but you’re fired, effective immediately.”
“Thank you,” Ramsey said. He ducked his head, turned and left.
Lucas stayed at his desk and closed his eyes. When had his life gotten so screwed up? He needed his best friend to tell him everything would be okay. But Toby was long gone and Lucas had to soldier on by himself. The loneliness swelled over him and he laid his head in his arms.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CLAIRE GLANCED AT Grey’s closed bedroom door. Her son wasn’t speaking to her and she didn’t know how to make it better. She hurried past his room, making her rounds of the latches and locks that kept them safe in the house.
She reached the kitchen and stopped. Grey stood at the stove, stirring something in a pot. She breathed in a waft of chocolate. A trickle of hope rose in her. At least he’d come out of his room.
“Grey.” She moved to the door and checked the bolt and lock as inconspicuously as possible. “What are you doing, honey?”
He didn’t turn around, but remained focused on the pot. “Making hot chocolate.”
She frowned and opened the pantry. “We don’t have any mix.”
He looked at her then, his eyebrows drawn together and his mouth stern. “You don’t need a mix to make hot chocolate.” He counted off on his fingers. “You just need water, sugar, cocoa powder, milk and, if you like, a little vanilla.”
She peered over his shoulder into the pot. “It smells good. Did Aunt Becca teach you how to make that?”
He shook his head. “Gram did.”
Claire should have been the one to teach him. Her mother had never had the time to teach her anything like that, though she had made time for Becca.
And now Grey.
“Do you want some?” Grey asked. “I made enough for two.”
Her son’s consideration lifted some of her melancholy. “I’d love to have some.”
He faced her. “Okay, but we have to drink it the way Gram and I drink it.”
She cocked her head. “How do you and Gram drink it?”
Instead of answering, he moved into the living room and turned off the television and then the radio. He then disappeared down the hall. The strains of Iron Maiden from her bedroom stopped and silence fell over the house.
Claire stood frozen in the kitchen. “Grey?” she called.
The floorboard in the hall creaked and panic spiked through her. She inhaled to calm herself as Grey reappeared in the kitchen. He methodically pulled two mugs from the cabinet, and then poured the contents of the pot into them.
He set the mugs on the kitchen table as he slid into one of the chairs. He wrapped his hands around his mug and blew on the hot chocolate, before taking a hesitant sip.
“It’s good,” he said. “You should try it.”
The wind roared by, shaking the trees outside. The hum of traffic sounded in the distance. The house creaked.
Claire squeezed her hands, and then shook them out. “It’s too quiet, Grey.”
“No, it isn’t,” he said. “It’s nice. It’s peaceful.”
She closed her eyes as the pressure in her head built. “Not to me, honey. You know I don’t like quiet.”
He set down his mug. “Why not? What’s wrong with quiet?” He frowned. “Does it have something to do with the bad thing that happened to you?”
Claire should have been prepared for this. Somehow she’d avoided his questions in the days since her horrible episode and the visit to the therapist’s.
“Did you get your homework finished?” she asked as she stepped toward the living room. She had to turn everything back on.
“Don’t,” Grey said with such force she stopped.
“Don’t what?” she asked, turning to face him.
“Don’t avoid talking to me, because you think I can’t handle it. I’m not a baby. And don’t turn everything back on, because I like the quiet. I don’t like the noise and the chaos, Mom. I can’t take much more of it. You said you were going to get help.”
She frowned. “When did I say that?”
“You texted it to me the night I stayed at Gram’s and had your phone. The night you freaked out.” His voice rose with emotion.
Claire’s throat burned. The quiet pressed in around her. “I’m sorry, honey. I don’t remember much about that night, but I’m really, really sorry. I know that was scary for you.”
Tears rolled down his cheeks. “So are you going to get help or is it going to happen again?”
“I’m trying. I’ve been reading online about...what I have, and I’m working on it.”
“But you said you’d get help. Are you going to see another therapist? Lucas said you should.”
“It’s complicated, Grey. I can’t see a therapist. They can’t help me, but I’m going to figure this out.”
“When?” He stood, pushing back his chair with enough force that it banged into the cabinet behind it.
“Is that why Lucas hasn’t been around this week?” he asked. “Did you drive him away again? Did he try to get you to see the therapist again and you wouldn’t go?”
“I went,” she said as the room blurred. “I went, Grey. I tried. I promise I tried.”
“Well, try again.” His voice broke and he stood by the table, crying.
She leaned against the wall as the wind rumbled around the house. The tightening of her chest made it difficult to draw breath. How could she make him understand? She shook her head. “I can’t.”
“I want to stay
with Gram,” Grey said.
“What?” She wiped her eyes and stared at him. “You’ll see her tomorrow afternoon when she gets you from Aunt Becca’s.”
“I want to stay with her, like she asked you before. For a long stay. She said I could stay as long as I wanted. She said I could live with her if I wanted to.”
“What?” She couldn’t be hearing him right. “You asked Gram if you could live with her?”
“She offered. I was really upset when you didn’t pick me up from school that day, because I thought you were better. I thought we’d have normal. But you’re not and we’re just going to keep on...” He gestured with a broad sweep of his arm.
She took a step toward him. “Grey, do you want to live with Gram?”
“Yes!” he yelled, shuddering with the force of his tears. “I hate it here.”
With that he ran from the room. His bedroom door slammed as Claire sank to the floor in the silence of her house.
* * *
THE BUZZING alarm clock woke Grey in the early morning darkness. He fumbled for the switch as he threw back the covers and shivered. The house vibrated with the familiar rhythm of Mom’s morning mix.
He shook his head, still exhausted. He dropped his head into his hands, but he didn’t have any more tears left after last night. After the past week, really, though he still couldn’t shake the sadness. He didn’t want to make his mom cry, but he just couldn’t take it anymore.
There was a soft knock on his door. He stepped across the throw rug, past the bookcase Lucas had fixed for him, past the bag of trucks and cars he’d torn the bow off for Mom’s birthday present and never put away, to the door. He straightened and took a deep breath before he opened it.
Mom stood in the hall, already dressed. Her eyes were red and puffy. He looked away, at his tae-kwon-do bag. His stomach hurt.
“Can I come in?” she asked.
He nodded. He should tell her he was sorry about last night, but he wasn’t sorry he’d told her he hated it here. He did hate it here. And it was so nice at Gram’s house.
She moved toward his closet. She pulled out his rolling suitcase and set it on his bed. “I can pack for you, but I thought you might want to choose some of your favorite things to take to Gram’s.”