Stolen in Love

by G. G. Andrew

  She stuck around the little girls as the adults found their seats in the other room, inhaling dessert and then a carrot stick to balance things out. While the murmur and laughter coming from the front room told her the other little girls’ parents weren’t too concerned about what they were doing, Kim clapped and commented as the girls took turns doing their dance moves.

  After almost an hour, though, she grabbed a cup of tea and ventured into the front room, feeling a little starved for adult conversation. The women sounded like they’d been chatting loudly and amicably from the dining area, but when Kim stepped into the room, a hush fell over the crowd.

  “Hi,” she said, leaning against the wall. There was nowhere to sit.

  A few of them said hello, and a couple moms smiled, but she’d put an end to their merriment. Taylor had warned them, she guessed, of her past. She recognized Heather and Whitney as friends of Taylor’s from school, and she saw the three exchange glances with each other. They didn’t want her here.

  It was then she realized why Autumn’s words had been playing on repeat in her head.

  I guess I got what I deserved, didn’t I?

  When you cheated on your boyfriend, people called you a whore. When you broke the law, people treated you like a criminal. Maybe they were justified. Both she and Autumn felt themselves to be part of the same club: Women Who Got What They Deserved. Kim had been a member for a while.

  After a few uncomfortable minutes, she went back to hang out with the group of preschool girls. They were a lot nicer, anyway. The girls were playing what looked like a complicated game involving the ballerina stickers Taylor had handed out in gift bags at the door. Kim plopped cross-legged down by Lily and Sierra to watch.

  During the next round of play, Sierra lost the biggest sticker she had, a polar bear in a tutu, to another player. Her lower lip jutting out, Sierra watched as the girl across from her added the bear sticker to her pile, then hopped up to get another cupcake.

  Kim saw the gleam in the girl’s eye and the way she leaned forward ever so slightly—she’d been there so many times herself. Sierra wanted that sticker back, and she was going to take it, rules be damned.

  Keeping her voice low so only Sierra and Lily could hear, Kim put her hand on the little girl’s arm. “You don’t need to do that,” she said kindly. Then she broke a cookie she was nibbling on in half and gave part of it to Sierra.

  The girl looked chastened, but gave Kim a slight smile as she took the cookie.

  Wiping her hands on her dress, Kim stood up and went to grab herself another cupcake.

  In the other room, the women were talking again. There were laughs and the clinks of teacups on saucers, but there was another noise too. Whispers.

  Knowledge slithered up Kim’s spine. They were talking about her. It had to be. She wouldn’t put it past Taylor, and the way those women had fallen into silence at her entrance, she might not put it past them either. Maybe it was her criminal record and involvement with Scott. Maybe it was her dress with jellyfish on it or the crimped way she wore her hair. Either way, she thought of Autumn again, the way her face had been a mask of hurt, anger, and self-loathing.

  Over the pink tablecloth, a bowl of extra ballerina toppers stood, gold and pink dancers connected to sharp sticks that poked into the cupcakes. She’d heard Taylor say she was going to give each girl an extra one to take home as a gift. Kim quickly counted the girls in the room, and then the toppers. There were at least three extras.

  She could take one, and it wouldn’t be a big deal. There was more than enough for everyone. Could you even steal something that wasn’t for sale? Her mind wandered to the badge of Scott’s she’d taken at Thanksgiving, the one she kept in a box under her bed.

  It’s not the same, a part of her brain said. This isn’t stealing at all. You can always give it to Lily later. But her slightly sweaty palms and quickened breath told a different story, and on some level Kim knew she was only lying to herself.

  “How are you doing, girls?” Taylor called over her shoulder, signaling her approach.

  Kim had no time for internal debate. She snatched one of the ballerinas and stuffed it in the pocket of her dress just as Taylor entered the room.

  It might not have been stealing to a court of law, but the same thing happened in her body: the nerves, the euphoria, and then the seeds of guilt and self-hatred that were planted—deep but sure enough to bloom.

  ~

  The next day, Kim was relieved to be around people who didn’t judge her—at least as obviously. She met Destani for breakfast in the morning. Even though they weren’t contacting the women in person anymore, they were still calling, and they’d met up to swap notes on who they’d spoken to and the outcome. So far, no others seemed to know the Jason or Ryan that Destani had met.

  Kim’s car was in the shop to fix the scratch from the knife in its exterior, so Destani dropped her off for her shift at Hot Haven. As Kim got out, the girl impulsively exited and walked around to give her a big hug.

  “Thank you for doing this,” she said, her eyes moist. “I’m glad I’m not alone in this.”

  Kim nodded. She was grateful to be warning the women with Destani. Though her stomach was still soured with disgust at how she’d pilfered that ballerina the day before to feel much pride.

  Sighing, she said goodbye to Destani and walked into Hot Haven.

  Boyd was behind the counter, whistling. “You leading a Girl Scout troop now, Xavier?”

  “What?”

  “The girl you were just hugging.”

  She walked behind the counter. “Oh, no. She’s just someone I met recently. We’re working on sort of a…girl project.”

  “Girl project?” Boyd said. “That sounds like the title of something in the back of a magazine I read when I was fifteen.”

  Kim started laughing. “Do you actually kiss your girlfriend with that mouth?”

  “Yes, he does,” a female voice called from a table.

  Kim spun around. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize you were here, Savannah.”

  “No worries.” Savannah stood up, an iced tea in her hand and her laptop bag over her shoulder. “I’m on my way out, actually. Got a meeting at the office.” She leaned over the counter and gave Boyd a kiss. “Call you later, okay?”

  As they both watched Savannah exit and walk to her car in the parking lot, Kim kneeled to get a fresh box of cardboard cups and asked, “So how’d you two meet?”

  “Me and Savannah?” Boyd threw his cleaning rag over his shoulder. “It was when I was in this funk last year. Couldn’t get a date to save my life. Oddly, a lot of women don’t dig short, poor guys.”

  “That is odd.”

  “I’d heard around that she was a really nice person, and then I saw her picture and she was, like, gorgeous. You know.”

  Kim nodded.

  “So I waited outside her work and pretended like I’d accidentally scratched her car so I could start a conversation with her.”

  Kim snorted. “Fake vehicular damage. Romantic.”

  Boyd spread his hands. “Hey, it worked for me!” He laughed. “But you got to promise me you won’t tell her this. She thinks it was all just a chance encounter. Let the women have their romance, right?”

  “Fair enough.” Kim smiled. Being around Boyd was lifting her spirits in what had otherwise been a tough weekend.

  “What about you?” Boyd asked. “You and that cop seemed like you had something going on the other day.”

  “Well, we’re just—he just—” She stopped and couldn’t seem to wipe the smile off her face. “There might be something going on.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “I knew it.” Shaking his head, he added, “Never would’ve pegged you for a badge bunny, Xavier.”

  She threw a paper cup at him. “I’m not a badge bunny!”

  Laughing, he stepped to the side and held up his arms in surrender. “Okay, okay, fine. Hey, if he makes you happy, that’s alright by me.”

  Her h
eart fluttering, she said, “He does make me happy.” Her voice was soft, almost a whisper—almost like it’d just occurred to her how much happiness and security Scott Culpepper had brought into her life.

  Then the smile fell off her face.

  Hadn’t her life shown her that it would only be a matter of time before she screwed up again and lost it all?

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Scott

  Scott leaned across the break room table, his voice low as he spoke to Carter. “You’re sure this isn’t our guy?”

  She nodded once. “One-hundred percent sure. Or ninety-five. As close as we get in this business, anyhow.”

  “Damn.”

  They were talking about Hutch—or Jay Hutcherson, as Scott had discovered was his legal name. A lifelong resident of Connecticut, he’d been apprehended for possession before, but nothing ever stuck. Maybe he had friends in high places.

  It was late afternoon in the break room on a Tuesday. The place had the lingering odor of burnt pizza, like someone had left their lunch in the microwave too long, but it was at least empty. Carter sat in a chair across from him at one of the round tables. She wore her usual slacks, but with the warmer temperature she’d taken off her jacket to reveal a sleeveless white blouse. Only her foot bounced as she studied him, waiting for him to disagree or come up with a brilliant reason to point the finger at the drug dealer who used to date Kim.

  Hutch fit what they were looking for. Someone with access to wealthy university boys. Someone who needed the money. A person who was no stranger to breaking the law to get what he wanted. And he was connected to Kim. Scott would’ve liked to throw him behind bars, but Carter had interacted with him at the Yale party, and even though she said he’d figured out her identity somehow—another indication he could evade the law— he’d seemed surprised when she’d revealed the contents of the flash drive.

  At his frown, Carter said, “Look, Scott, do you think maybe you’re letting your personal feelings cloud your judgment here?” She jiggled her foot faster. “Plus, this Hutch didn’t exactly look like he spends all day in front of the computer.”

  At the slight pink flush that came over her cheeks then, Scott narrowed his eyes and refrained from asking the same question back. Exactly what had Carter been doing undercover at that party?

  As if guessing his thoughts, the detective stood up abruptly, tugged down her shirt, and slapped down a folder in front of him. “We’re still looking for that profile, but let’s focus on someone who’s good with computers. This is a list of Viktor’s co-workers at the computer lab. If you’ve got time this week, I’d love your help checking some out. I’m looking into these names Jay Hutcherson gave me.”

  He nodded and opened the folder. He appreciated Carter keeping him involved in the investigation, especially since they were devoting more time to it than the department would approve of. Even though he got the impression there were things she wasn’t telling him about Wednesday night.

  Women not telling him things. It’d been a theme, all right.

  Despite Kim still staying at his house, he hadn’t seen her much the past few days. She usually stayed up until he got home from work, but Saturday night he came home to find her sound asleep in bed, her hair curtaining her face and the lights still on. He’d smiled and tucked her hair behind her ears, thinking that the tea party and all those girls had worn her out. But then the same thing had happened Sunday night, and again Monday. They’d spent Sunday morning together, but she’d seemed distant and even spacey, preoccupied with something he wasn’t privy to. The past two mornings she’d left early on “errands.”

  He’d warned her against tracking down those women, but she didn’t seem to be listening.

  “Yes, I have been listening,” she’d said when he’d asked her again Monday. “I’ve just been out driving. I’m trying to sort through some things.”

  He wanted to tip her upside-down until all her secrets fell out.

  On his way to work the day before, he’d run into Taylor Stiles while pumping gas. She’d given him a smile and wave, and then instead of stepping back inside her minivan, she’d walked to stand three feet away while he filled his tank.

  “Hey, Taylor,” he said.

  “Hi, Scott.” She smiled as she shielded her eyes from the late afternoon sun. “It was so nice to have Lily at the party Saturday.”

  “Great.” He gave her a tight smile, noting she hadn’t said anything about Kim. He pushed his thumb harder on the gas nozzle so the tank would fill up faster.

  “Scott.” Taylor pressed her lips together and his stomach sank. “There’s something I need to say.”

  He paused. “Okay.”

  Maybe this was about him not contributing enough to the preschool classroom again. Maybe it was about some weird toy he’d bought his daughter that the twins’ mom didn’t approve of. God help him if this was about his girlfriend.

  It was.

  “I understand that Lily wanted Kim Xavier to bring her on Saturday,” Taylor began. “I know you’ve grown, well, closer to her.” It was quick, but Scott caught the way she scrunched her nose for a fraction of a second. “But I’d love it if you could at least give me advance warning, so I could tell the other parents.”

  Scott lowered his eyebrows.

  “Kim has a past,” she continued. “I’ve known her much, much longer than you have—since we were in school—and I know how much grief she’s put her family through.” Taylor shook her head. “I mean, we all have our challenges, but Kim’s is really something that affects other people around her, you know?”

  The car was only two-thirds full, but he yanked the gas nozzle out of his tank. “Taylor, I’m aware of Kim’s struggles. We’ve talked about it. I’m also aware she’s fantastic around Lily and any other little girl. If you don’t want her over to your house, that’s fine. But don’t go acting like she should be the town pariah either. She’s been in recovery, and she’s doing great.”

  Taylor frowned and dropped the hand shading her eyes. “Then how come she stole one of the ballerinas for the girls?”

  Scott was putting the nozzle back, but he missed and had to jam it into its holder again. “What?”

  “She took one of the dancers that were meant for the cupcakes. I saw her do it. If that’s what recovery looks like, I think she missed a step or two.” Taylor let out a delicate laugh and shifted her weight.

  “She probably grabbed one for Lily,” he said after a pause, though his mind wandered to the box from under Kim’s bed, all those small pink, girly things. A ballerina would’ve fit the collection.

  Taylor rested a hand on her hip. “Then why did she put it in her own pocket?”

  He shook his head.

  “Check her purse, Scott,” Taylor persisted. “I bet you’ll find it. That and who knows what else.” She pivoted to walk back to her car, but called over her shoulder. “She’s probably taken something of yours too, you know.”

  His teeth grinding together, he watched the woman get into her car and drive away, leaving him with a loose thread of doubt to pull at.

  Had Kim really taken some ballerina cupcake thing? If so, would she tell him? Had the other parents seen?

  And if she’d taken it, why? They’d been having sex every day, sometimes two or three times. Despite her dropping off to sleep before she wished him goodnight and the errands she’d been running, when they were together they smiled and touched like two teenagers.

  This new distance he felt, was it about her falling off the wagon? How could she do that when they were so happy together?

  He didn’t tell Kim about his run-in with Taylor, but he wondered. Damn it, he wondered. He was wondering again on Tuesday night when he got off work, unlocking the door expecting to find her crashed out like he had the previous three nights.

  Instead as he walked into the dark bedroom, quietly removing his duty belt, shoes, and shirt, she stirred.

  “Hey,” she said, her voice silky with sleep.

&
nbsp; “Hey.” Then he added, stupidly, “Are you awake?”

  “Yes.”

  There was something so unguarded and innocent in her voice, a quality that both made him want to tell her everything and assured him he didn’t need to say anything at all. This was Kim. His Kim—as much as she’d let him have of her.

  She stretched her body under the single white sheet covering her. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, softened only by moonlight and streetlight, he made out her half-hooded eyes, the thin tank top she wore.

  He unbuckled his pants and dropped them to the floor with his boxers.

  “Come here,” she said sleepily, reaching out her arms to him.

  He did, sliding under the sheet and gathering her in his arms.

  She was warm, and pliable in her relaxation, and he didn’t even consciously think of kissing her; it just happened. Like treading water when you’re dropped in the deep end of the pool, kissing Kim Xavier came naturally to him—was one of the few things that came naturally to him, he realized, even when it made him unpopular in the neighborhood. She pressed closer and twined her body around him, their legs tangling and her fingers combing through his hair. Kissing seemed like the only possible thing to do with their lips.

  Her shirt was still on, but it was so flimsy he could feel her nipples brush against the bare skin of his chest. He was already hard, had been hard ever since she’d spoken—that part of him cared little for popular opinion or common sense—but he turned to granite when she started squirming against him, her breath growing heavy with need. Her excitement in response to his was oil on a bonfire. He’d burn for her without it, but when it was there, it created an inferno.

  Still kissing, he rolled her flat on the bed and pushed her knees up. She wore only a pair of panties with the thin top, and they were warm and damp as he slid them down her legs and tossed them to the side.