Evan (Novella): 3.5 (A Carter Brother Series)

by Lisa Helen Gray

  “I’m sorry she did that to you,’’ I tell him softly, my voice just above a whisper, not wanting to scare him. He seems deep in thought at the moment, his face is red with anger.

  He scoffs, looking down at me. “I’m not a victim. She was as messed up as I was, if not worse. But then she was used to it whereas I had never done a drug in my life. How do you know she’s mine?’’

  His eyes fill with tears as he sits on the edge of a thick cushioned sofa chair. Gosh, you’d get lost in that thing. I almost want to sit down in it to see if you do, but I’m not here to get comfy.

  “She never told me about you. I found out. She said she had told the dad who was this big shot, but was a rat,’’ I shrug, embarrassed I have to repeat those words. “She said you knew and even though I didn’t believe her, I didn’t question her. When she died they handed me her belongings. In her bag was your number with Imogen’s dad, Evan, written on it.’’

  “Fuck’s sake. I need to process this. Where is the kid? How old did you say she was?’’

  “She’s five months. She’s been through a lot. She was born an addict. She was lucky that when Vicky found out she was pregnant she slowed down on the drugs, but not enough. It’s how she died. She signed some papers handing her over to my care and went on her drug spree. She died two days later.’’

  I still feel sick thinking about it. She abandoned a sick baby, her baby, to go and get her next fix. I’ll never get it. She didn’t even look back or hesitate. If anything, she looked relieved to be out of there.

  “Is the baby okay?’’ he asks, but he sounds weird, robotic even.

  “She is now. She got released six weeks after she was born. She’s healthy. She was weaned off the drugs as soon as she was born. She had been short of breath. She was also six weeks premature but they were positive that she would make a full recovery. They did warn me about development issues but so far none have arisen. She checks out okay.’’

  “Good. Good,’’ he tells me, still pacing. “When can we get the DNA test done?’’

  I’m actually shocked. I thought it would take me longer to convince him to see her, to take a DNA test, but he seems to be handling it alright. So far anyway. I didn’t know what I’d get out of today, but Evan being so level-headed wasn’t not even on my radar.

  “I actually ordered one for you. I’ve already got Imogen’s ready, but you’ll need to do yours. All you have to do is take a swab sample from the inside of your cheek.’’

  I rummage through my bag until I find the white pre-addressed envelope at the bottom and hand it to him.

  “Look, I have to go. I know this has come out of the blue and you’ll need some time to digest everything. I just needed to meet you to get answers. As Imogen’s legal guardian, I wanted to be able to look her in the eye one day and tell her I tried,’’ I tell him, my eyes watering. I grab the other envelope from out of the bag and hand it to him. “It’s a few pictures, my phone numbers and my address for you to get in contact. Please send that off ASAP and make sure you do it right. If you do it, but don’t want any part in Imogen’s life, I will understand. What Vicky did, who she was, is not something to be proud of, but that little girl, she’s everything light in the world. She doesn’t know what her mother was like and I’ll never tell her. She doesn’t need to hear that the worst parts about her mother are the only parts about her.’’

  “I’ll get them done,’’ he croaks out, his eyes watering. “I just… I need some time. I’ll do anything you want me to but I just need some time to process this. If she’s mine…’’

  “It’s okay. We can talk more when we get the results back, okay?’’

  “Okay.’’

  I nod my head and turn, opening the door. I hear him hit the sofa and when I turn to shut the door behind me I find him sitting down on the sofa opening the contents of the envelope I gave him. Not the one with the DNA kit in, but the other, the one with pictures of Imogen inside. I stand staring for a few more minutes, fully taking in the huge bulk of a man who begins to weep staring down at the pictures of the broken baby girl wired up in an incubator.

  Something tells me I’ll be hearing from Evan with the outcome being in Imogen’s favour.

  CHAPTER THREE

  EVAN

  Aaron sits back down on the stool in front of me, handing me another pint. I’ve lost count of how many drinks I’ve had since I arrived an hour ago. All I keep doing is replaying Kennedy’s words in my mind.

  I’m a dad to a five month old baby.

  I stared at the pictures she gave me for hours before I realised she’d gone and the sun had gone down. I called Aaron straight away and told him I needed him to meet me.

  When we met up I explained everything that had happened from the moment Kennedy arrived to the moment I snapped out of my trance. We drank. We talked. We drank some more. And now I’m ready to head over to Kennedy’s and demand answers, but I don’t want to scare her. I need to know why she didn’t come sooner. What did her sister tell her about me? Fuck! My head is spinning just thinking about it all.

  “Fuck, mate. I don’t know what to say.’’

  “A baby. A fucking baby. I don’t even know if she wants me to take her. She said she came for answers, but what if that wasn’t about answers at all. I don’t know how to look after a baby. What if she is mine and I’m wasting more weeks until the results come in not being with her?’’ I ramble, scrubbing my hands down my face. I’m still in the clothes I left work in this afternoon. After Kennedy’s visit everything just seems to be going downhill. My mind is torn about what to do. Do I stay away until the results are in or do I go see her? It’s more time I’ll miss if I wait around, but then I don’t want to get attached to have it ripped away from me in a second.

  For fuck’s sake. I thought the woman was there hitting on me or some sort of stripper the guys had hired. I wouldn’t put it past my ex work colleagues to do something like that. She looked so fucking cute all flustered and shy, staring at me like she was trying to find the first place to lick. It was the only giveaway she had given that made me think she wasn’t a stripper. Looks wise, she’s a fucking knockout.

  Then she got all feisty, pushing me with her dainty finger. She’s like a little pixie fairy, all small and shit. Her fucking eyes were the colour of melted chocolate. They were deep, rich and so fucking sexy it made me want to drag her back to my room and do unspeakable things to her.

  “Man, you’ll figure this shit out. It probably ain’t your kid anyway,’’ he tells me. I swear he’s had that exact speech on repeat since I told him the news. Aaron is my best mate; I’d jump in front of a bullet for him. In fact, he’d do the same for me. But when it comes to advice, he really does fucking suck.

  I’d have gone to my sister but she still isn’t talking to me after the whole keeping my job a secret. I’d done it for a few reasons, but mostly it because we weren’t allowed to tell people what we do.

  It also didn’t help that I could have prevented Carl from kidnapping her. I didn’t know he was going to do it, but I knew he was up to something. We were just waiting for it to go down. If I knew she was involved I would have put a stop to him before.

  I’ve sent her bloke, Mason, a message tonight asking him to talk to her on my behalf. I need her now more than ever. It’s selfish of me because since I joined up with the agency I’ve done nothing but avoid anything family related. When I have seen them I’ve kept everything bottled up.

  Anyway, he finally replied half an hour ago saying he’d talk to her for me, but I needed to give her time.

  Never thought I’d let my little sister date a fucker like him. The lad has slept with more people than the entire police force in my department put together. He’s a fucking animal. Or he was. I’ve been keeping an eye on him when he’s not with Denny and, so far, the lad doesn’t even blink in another girl’s direction.

  It’s a fucking miracle after the rumours I’ve heard about him.

  My sister, though, she’s
a game changer. She’s kind, sweet, loving, and doesn’t want to change you. All she wants is honesty, love, and commitment. So I can see why Mason only sees her. She’s once in a life time kind of girl.

  “I don’t fucking know,’’ I groan, my thoughts directing back to Kennedy and the little girl. My little girl. There was something in the way Kennedy looked at me, the way she spoke about Imogen, that has me believing the kid is mine. A strong feeling overwhelmed me when she announced I had a daughter. It rocked through my body and I just knew. I don’t fucking know. For all I know the woman could be just like her slut of a sister. She most likely is. But remembering the way she looked, dressed and spoke, I know immediately it’s the pissed off side of me talking. She’s nothing like her sister.

  Oh well! The tests will be done and I’ll finally know the answers that can put my mind at rest. A part of me hopes that she is mine. I don’t want to imagine who her father is otherwise. I knew most of the blokes at that unit through my job, getting to know them, and let’s just say, they are the worst of the worst. That little girl deserves more than a father and a mother coming from a world like that.

  “Well, drink up. Everyone just walked in,’’ Aaron announces and I straighten on my stool.

  “It’s supposed to be a fucking surprise. We said eight, dipshit,’’ William, my old boss, says, glaring at Aaron. I chuckle but it’s forced. I’m not going to be much fun tonight, but I know the guys wanted to give me a proper send off, so for them I can fake it and drink until my mind is blank.

  “He called me up,’’ Aaron defends with his hands in the air.

  “Useless fucking shit,’’ William mutters, then steps out the way when Dave walks over with a tray of Jagerbombs.

  “Shots!’’ he yells and I wince. The noise was loud enough in here already but now that these bunch of shits have joined the party, it’s turned to deafening.

  Fuck, if that isn’t a clear sign that I’m getting old, I don’t know what is.

  Just as I thought the night was getting better the fucking reception slut walks in with one of the new lads. Mikey I think I heard his name was. He’s hanging onto her every word. Poor fucker is going to regret it once he gets to know her better, or worse, sleeps with her.

  Aaron notices where I’m looking and groans.

  “I swear, I didn’t invite the bitch, but if it helps, I’ll put twenty on it not lasting another hour. The poor fuck looks miserable.’’

  I look again and notice he does look fucking miserable. He’s eyeing up one of the women that have been standing up by the bar all night.

  “Half an hour and make it thirty,’’ I laugh, shaking his hand. He laughs with me, and we pick up our shots, ignoring Dave as he counts down from three.

  Does he think we’re at school?

  When another tray of shots appears I know I’m in for a long night. Kidneys, may you rest in peace, my friends.

  The night ventures on and it’s one in the morning when the guys finally carry me out of the pub.

  “I’m never drinking again,’’ I whine, my words slurring.

  “That’s what you said the last time we went out,’’ one of the guys laughs, but I don’t find it funny. The room is spinning, or I’m spinning. I don’t know. I’m too wasted to tell the difference.

  “Let’s get you home,’’ William rumbles, his voice sounding more slurred than mine. I’m shoved into a taxi and Aaron hops in beside me giving the driver my address.

  I must have fallen asleep because I’m shaken awake when we pull up outside mine. “You kipping the night?’’ I ask Aaron.

  “Yeah, mate. Wouldn’t want you to choke on your own vomit now, would we?”

  “If he’ sick in my cab, you pay,’’ the driver shouts, his voice foreign.

  “I’m kidding.’’

  “He’s not. I feel green,’’ I joke, but end up choking.

  “You, you get out my cab,’’ I hear yelled as Aaron pulls me out. The door slams behind us and the taxi speeds away, the tyres screeching on the tarmac.

  “Ha, joke’s on that fucker. We haven’t paid,’’ Aaron hoots.

  “Ha, take that, ya fucker,’’ I shout down the empty road. The taxi isn’t even in sight but I don’t care.

  “Come on, Rocky,’’ Aaron teases.

  He drags me up the path at the same time Lexi opens her door. “Is everything okay?’’ she asks timidly, her eyes scanning Aaron up and down. They’ve met a few times so I’m used to this interaction, but fuck me if I don’t roll my eyes.

  “Peachy, go back to Steve,’’ I tell her, snarky, wondering why her life got so perfect while mine got so fucked up.

  “Um, it’s Simon and we broke up,’’ she tells me softly. I feel like shit. Even if Steve was a jerk, she doesn’t deserve this. We walk through the front door, me wobbling on my feet.

  “Sorry. The guy was a dick.’’

  “Yeah, he was,’’ she smiles, looking at me with concern.

  “Well, I’m going to bed. You two play nice,’’ I scowl and then walk head first into the doorframe, banging my head across it.

  “Fuck!’’ I roar. Shit, that fucking hurt. “Who put that there?”

  “Careful, mate,’’ Aaron laughs and I turn to him, giving him a hateful glare. I move through the bungalow, down the corridor and into my bedroom.

  The results need to hurry the fuck up and arrive already. I need to know. And I need to know now. Otherwise I’ll end up being this drunk every night until they arrive.

  I hear voices coming from down the hall and I groan into my pillow. Looks like Lexi isn’t leaving any time soon. The door to my room opens, letting light in, and a deep chuckle echoes around the room.

  “Fuck off,’’ I grumble, my face shoved into the pillow. The fucker turns the light on, and I know it’s on fucking purpose.

  Whatever he must see must satisfy him because the next thing I hear is him clicking the light off and shutting the door behind him. I hear him address Lexi, asking if she wants to stay for some coffee.

  My head is spinning but I manage to drown out their yapping and end up drifting into a deep sleep, my thoughts consumed by a baby I haven’t even met.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  KENNEDY

  “Come on, baby girl, go to sleep,’’ I coo softly in Imogen’s ear. She’s started teething. No matter how many freaking text books I’ve read or looked up online for ways to help her, nothing is fudging working. My heart is literally breaking hearing her in so much pain. It’s only taken me five months to decipher her cries. Each cry sounds different and are for different things.

  She cries loudly in my arms. The chunky, healthy bundle is pulling at her now red ears. I sit down in the rocking chair and take her temperature.

  Just a little over the normal temperature, but it still doesn’t ease my worry.

  Knowing I’m not going to be able to get much sleep this morning I start rocking backwards and forwards. My mouth opens and the lyrics to Meghan Trainor’s All About That Bass, rolls out. It’s the first song to pop into my head. Most likely because it’s always playing on the radio.

  After the first verse she starts to settle. Her tiny but chubby fist is shoved into her mouth, the other still holding onto her ear.

  Thankfully, it’s not long before she’s asleep and I place her gently down in her cot. I’m glad I don’t have to work this week. I had some annual leave left. It felt right using it with Imogen being so poorly. I can’t afford to have any unpaid time off.

  Tip toeing out of her tiny room so I don’t wake her, I walk back through my small, two bedroomed flat to the kitchen. The place isn’t ideal but it’s the only place I could find that was affordable.

  It’s located in one of the roughest places in town and I do hate it here. I’m never able to get a full night’s sleep due to loud music coming from other floors, or because some couple decided tonight’s the night to get into a fight. Imagine that echoing around your flat at God knows what time of night.

  Loud bangin
g at the door has me jumping out of my skin. I quickly drop the washing-up liquid and run to the door before they can wake up Imogen.

  If it’s my creepy neighbour from along the hall I’m going to cry. I’m pretty sure he does drugs and, I swear, when he conveniently knocks on my door it’s always for sugar. I’m pretty sure it’s really to see if I have any valuables lying around that he can rob when I’m not here. Luckily, I’m not one for splurging out on things. I have second-hand goods from charity shops and keep my mother’s jewellery locked away in a box under my bed.

  “I don’t have any spare-” I’m cut off when a large hand wraps around my throat, pushing me back into the flat. He’s squeezing so tight I don’t have a chance to breathe in and scream. The door slams and my first thought is hoping Imogen doesn’t wake up. I don’t want whoever this is to know she’s here. I’m shaking uncontrollably as I claw at the man’s wrists.

  My eyes open wide when the scruff of a man slams me back against the door, his eyes red and furious.

  “Where’s my fucking money, bitch?’’

  I try to talk, I really do, but his hand is cutting off any air I had left in my lungs. I frantically claw at his wrists to get him to loosen his hold, but it never happens. Wheezing noises start to leave my mouth causing me to panic.

  What the hell is happening? Who is he? What money? Does he think I’m someone else? I look around, for what I don’t know. It’s not like I can get away from him to get anything. His hold is too strong.

  My vision begins to blur just as he drops me to the floor. I stumble back a few steps, my mind frozen. I don’t even have a chance to think, to speak, or to catch my breath before his hand clashes with my cheek. Pain radiates down my face, tears finally falling free, and I cry out in pain.

  “Please,’’ I beg, for what I’m not sure. I just hope he understands I’m not who he thinks I am.