by G. G. Andrew
He looked over.
“I was concerned about her record and what the neighbors were saying. Told her to watch how she acted around Lily, that children learn from what you do.” Not looking at him, she added some lunch meat and lettuce on top of the mayo, then piled a second slice of bread on top. “But I think that was a lot about me, about the regrets I have with Alexa and the way I raised her.” She poured a mug of coffee, and brought the cup and sandwich on a plate to the table, plopping it down before him. She sat across the table. “But I’ve seen the way she is with Lily. She’s a natural, and a good woman I think. So if she got nervous and took off, it’s maybe because I spooked her.”
Scott was confused for a second. He still had a splitting headache. “She didn’t take off. I broke up with her.”
“What?” Bette’s jaw dropped. “Well, I didn’t see that coming.”
“Thanks a lot, Bette.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why’d you do it?”
“It’s like I said, we’re just too different,” he said. “She’s addicted to breaking the law and I’m trying to uphold it.”
“She’s still stealing?”
He crossed his arms. “Yes. She may not mean to, but she couldn’t promise me it wouldn’t happen again.”
“She’s an addict then.”
His eyes fell to the table. “Yeah.”
“Are you upset because she’s breaking the law or because she’s breaking your heart?” Bette asked.
“Does it matter?” He hadn’t touched the sandwich, but he pushed the plate away. “It’s not going to work, Bette. It would’ve combusted sooner or later. Better sooner than later before someone got too attached.” He nodded in the direction of the living room, where they both heard Lily turn on the television to watch cartoons.
“Oh, before someone got too attached?” Bette said drily. “I’m glad that didn’t happen.”
“Whatever.” He exhaled again, his stomach churning. “I don’t need some woman with pouty red lips showing up to turn my head and make me forget my responsibilities.”
Bette raised an eyebrow. “Well-behaved women…” she began.
“I know what you’re going to say,” Scott said. “I’ve heard that quote before. Well-behaved women rarely make history.”
“That’s not what I was going to say,” Bette snapped. “What I was going to say was that well-behaved women rarely get your rocks off in bed.”
“Jesus, Bette.” He stared at the ceiling again, shaking his head.
“Look, knucklehead, you’re a smart guy. Think about this. From what I saw, she was trying to put her life on track. She may slip up time to time, but that’s par for the course with addiction. I should know,” she mumbled.
He glanced at her in surprise. “Bette…”
She held up a hand. “Has it occurred to you that some other guy’s going to come along who can look beyond her past and recognize her for who she is, even if she hasn’t recognized it yet herself? She’s a smart, resourceful, lively, funny woman who’s got an edge to her character and some meat on her bones.” She leaned towards him. “And when that happens, she’ll be turning those pouty red lips at that man.”
Scott winced.
“You know it’s true.”
Scott sighed. “She stole my badge, Bette.”
“Well, go steal it back.” She shook her head. “She’s trying to be better. You could try a little too.”
“I don’t want to go through this again.”
Bette sighed and rubbed her face. “You know I love my daughter, don’t you? But little girls grow up, like Lily is going to, whether you like it or not. And sometimes when they grow up, they don’t call enough, and they’re so different than you would’ve…” She stopped and swallowed. “I love Alexa, Scott. You and I both know that. But Kim’s not like her. She doesn’t have that wanderlust. And she’s got more maternal instinct in one little finger than Alexa has in her—her—shit, she just doesn’t have any.” She plopped her elbows on the table. “And that’s okay, because Lily has you. One day, Lily will probably be pissed about it and we’ll all have to talk, but people are built differently.”
“I’m not awake enough for this conversation.” He picked up the mug and took a large gulp of the hot, bitter liquid, praying for clarity, and maybe confirmation that Bette wasn’t right and he didn’t just screw up big time with a woman who’d made him happier—if crazier—than he’d ever been in his life.
“I just want Lily to have stability,” he said. “I want me to have stability.”
“You can’t go through life thinking every relationship you get into is going to end,” Bette said. “Especially the ones with women you’re ass over teakettle for.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Kim
At her parents’ that Thursday morning, Kim couldn’t help but think of the last time she’d woken up in her old room. It’d been the dawn after her first kiss with Scott, just over three weeks ago. It was a cruel memory, because she now felt as miserable as she’d felt blissful that other morning—the opposite emotion in every way, complete with the depletion and heart-crushing dread that she might never kiss Scott Culpepper again.
She missed him, his arms and deep voice and the way he’d made her feel protected at the times she’d been the most scared in her life. He was so close to her—a stone’s throw away—yet the impasse between them seemed insurmountable. He didn’t want her as she was. It’d been true all along; they’d just pretended otherwise.
Yet she had to find a way to move forward. Even with the gut-punch of pain she felt, what had happened with Lily yesterday and the positive pregnancy test had shifted her focus. She had relationships to rebuild and ties to break, and she still had a job at Hot Haven with a shift that very afternoon. Along the way, maybe she’d figure out the words to tell Scott that she was pregnant, that the baby was his, that she was having it—and that he could be involved or not, but if he was, he needed to accept her fully this time.
Early in the morning, her mother drove her back to her apartment to get her car. On the ride, Diane Xavier was in both mama bear and planner mode, a lethal combination.
“You need to make an appointment with a good obstetrician right away,” she said as she drove down the shady, tree-lined streets. “Also, we should think about where to register for baby gifts. Of course you’ll need to find out the sex, so we can pick a theme for the nursery.” She looked over at her daughter. “Why aren’t you eating your hard-boiled egg? It has omega-3 in it.”
Between the sheer number of details she didn’t want to think about in her exhaustion, her mother’s ever-exuberant micromanaging, and the thought of possibly doing this without Scott, Kim almost groaned. But instead she leaned back against the head rest and closed her eyes. It was comforting, in a way. Her mother would always be her mother, but she would be there. Even if things didn’t turn out the way she’d planned, her family would be a soft place to land. They always had been, even when she pushed them away.
At her apartment, she sent her mother away to research doctors and recommended diets and got in her car.
She didn’t have a scheduled appointment with Dr. Park until next week, but the thing she had to do couldn’t wait. The past two weeks she hadn’t seen him much as it was. Last week, the shock of learning Viktor had been her stalker made her beg off their Wednesday meeting, and he’d cancelled yesterday’s session, citing a personal matter that he unexpectedly had to attend to.
The shopping center was deserted this early, only a few cars dotting the lot. It was still cool enough that Kim shivered when a cool breeze passed over her skin as she walked to his small office. Most of the stores hadn’t opened, but Dr. Park started seeing clients promptly at eight o’clock.
It was ten minutes before.
The few chairs in Dr. Park’s waiting room were empty, and he had his office door open again.
“Kim!” He stood up from his chair and smoothed down his shirt. “I wasn’t expecting
you.”
“Yeah, sorry.” She attempted a smile. “Good morning.”
“Uh, good morning.” He cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I have another client in a few minutes. Do you have a—is this a—”
She crossed the threshold of his private office, but stayed standing. “This will just take a minute.”
He nodded, still looking unsure. “Okay.”
She took a deep breath. “We need to break up.”
“What?”
“It’s not you, it’s just…” She gestured between them. “I don’t think this is working anymore. You’ve been a huge help to me during recovery, helping me to recognize my triggers and be more aware of how I’m feeling. I can’t thank you enough for that. But I need a counselor who I can tell when I’ve banged an on-duty officer in his patrol car after he almost tried to arrest me.”
Dr. Park’s eyebrows shot up.
“I’m sorry,” she continued. “I’ve just been realizing how important it is to be able to share everything, and I haven’t been fully open with you in the way I need to be. I haven’t had any big insights in months. Yesterday, a four-year-old girl pretty much did your job for you.” She played with her fingers. “Anyway, I hope you’re not pissed.”
At that, he sat down heavily in his chair. “Kim, no, I’m not angry. I suspected you weren’t being completely open with what was going on, but I didn’t want to press until you were ready.” He moved some papers on his desk. “I’ve got to say, you surprised me, but I think this is a positive step.”
“You do?”
“Yes.” Dr. Park smiled. “Though it’s never pleasant to hear one is bested by a small child. But you’re learning what you need in a relationship—what you deserve as a person. Finding a good fit between psychologist and client can be a challenge. But I think it’s healthy to seek what you have every right to, a psychologist whom can be truly open with and can give you what you need.” He shifted in his chair. “If it’s all the same to you, though, I’m going to forget what you said about the officer and the patrol car, both professionally and as a citizen of this county.”
She smiled. “Thanks.”
Behind her, a whoosh signaled someone had opened the door. Dr. Park’s next client.
“Well, thanks,” Kim said, starting to turn on her heel—but then she froze.
Taylor Stiles was standing in the waiting room like a deer caught in the headlights—or a pretentious, self-conscious suburban mom without a proper manicure.
“K-Kim,” she stuttered. “I was just—”
Kim tilted her head. “Going shopping?”
Sure enough, Taylor had a shopping bag slung over her shoulder—just as she had when Kim had run into her at the center a few weeks back. But none of the shops were open. It was a cover.
Taylor had been seeing Dr. Park too.
As Kim looked at Taylor’s terrified face, she thought of all the things she could say to her. That she was sorry for stealing her prom date. That she hated the snide comments Taylor always made when they ran into each other. That she was going to have a kid after all, and wasn’t that weird, and she probably wouldn’t be perfect at it, but then again neither was Taylor. That Taylor shouldn’t have to pretend like she didn’t need help too, because Kim got it and didn’t judge her for it. That she really wanted that cupcake recipe from the tea party, because she felt like she could eat a whole dozen right now.
Instead, she walked up to her old classmate, put her hand on her upper arm, and squeezed gently. “Good for you,” she said, and walked out the door.
In her car, she sighed and leaned back in the seat. Though she was still sad, some of the heaviness on her heart was becoming lighter. Taylor Stiles couldn’t hold the past over her anymore. She’d felt closer to her family that morning than she’d had in months. Now she’d broken up with Dr. Park, and soon she’d find another psychologist to help her through this dark patch without Scott.
There was something else she needed to say goodbye to. She pulled the thick list of pages out of her purse, the ones with all those women’s names. Between Destani and herself, they’d contacted fourteen women, warning them and convincing a few that hadn’t already to go to the cops. She didn’t regret it—she felt for those women so keenly it made her chest ache—but what Scott and her mother and sister had said was right. It was dangerous, especially with Viktor out there and the real person behind the harassment unknown. It was partly the baby, but she also had less of a desire to physically risk herself the way she had.
She had to hope her conversations with those women had made a difference, helped the police get closer to catching the asshole who did it.
She went through that list of names and read each one. It’d been too overwhelming before, but now it would be something like closure.
Starting at the front this time, she flipped through the pages. Elle Smith, Deidre Laughlin, Trina Simmons…She read each name and sent up a little wish that each would find justice and reclaim a sense of safety again, and maybe find someone to be with who didn’t consider their bodies, reputations, and privacy to be weapons in the war of love.
She flipped through the pages—but then a single name stopped her like a slap to the face.
Kim’s blood ran cold. There, on the middle of page six, was a familiar name.
Savannah Davidson.
Her eyes scanned the information below to confirm it was her manager’s girlfriend, and sure enough it was.
Kim dropped the list and whipped out her phone.
She had Savannah’s number in her cell from earlier that winter, when the brunette had suggested she and Kim see a movie sometime. They’d never gone, but now Kim was grateful for the impulse.
Savannah picked up on the third ring.
“Hey, it’s Kim from Hot Haven,” she said. “Can you meet me somewhere right away? It’s important.”
Chapter Forty
Scott
Scott slumped into the precinct carrying his fourth coffee of the day.
Even with all the caffeine jolting his body awake, he didn’t feel any better about his life. He was frustrated and worn in a way that had little to do with all the sleep he hadn’t gotten.
Bette’s words arm-wrestled with the logic that’d made him end things with Kim the previous night. Was she right in her implication that he had been too stubborn and hasty? Or even cowardly—that his decision was more about wanting to cut and run before things got more serious and he stood to suffer more pain and upheaval?
Mostly, he was tired. The thought of life without Kim Xavier, which had seemed the only sane path to follow yesterday, felt like a death sentence under the light of the new day.
He missed her. God help him, he missed her.
What’s more, he worried about her. They weren’t any closer to finding out who Viktor had been working with, and she may still be contacting those women. He wanted to text her, Please be careful, but he wasn’t sure he had any right to say that when he’d left her in tears in her apartment a day ago.
At the station, he collapsed into a chair in front of the stack of paperwork he needed to complete. Maybe not quite a fitting penance, but one he welcomed—he would take any distraction he could get.
The building was full for a Thursday afternoon. A few uniforms sat at cubicles doing paperwork like him, and clumps of others gathered in conversation about cases or laughed over what they planned to do that weekend.
“Afternoon, Culpepper,” Jimmy called as he walked into the bullpen. He stopped at Scott’s face. “Man, you look like shit.”
“Thanks, Jimmy.” Not wanting further conversation, Scott clicked a pen and began filling out forms.
“Bad breakup?”
Jimmy began filling up his own coffee mug, the sound of the liquid spurting into the cup loud and aggravating to Scott.
“Something like that.”
“Huh.”
Scott didn’t look up, but he could tell the other officer still hovered there behind him.
“She steal something of yours?”
Scott looked up.
“Kim Xavier,” Jimmy said to his unspoken question, slurping a sip of coffee. “We figured she would eventually. You don’t need her, man. We’ve been taking bets here in the department on how long the thing you got going with her would last. I got to tell you, we all guessed it would be a lot less time. Jeannie was the closest.”
Scott swiveled around to stare at his fellow officer, who ducked her head into her own cubicle to avoid his gaze.
Jimmy said, “I’m just glad it’s over. It’s over, right?”
Scott clenched his teeth. “It’s over.” He started clicking his pen, again and again.
“She’s always been bad news,” Jimmy continued. “I nabbed her once for slipping some jewelry in her pockets at a store. One of her few felonies, but I put a stop to it.”
Jimmy unconsciously puffed out his chest, and Scott dropped the pen, his hand clenching into a fist. His entire body grew rigid, like a dam trying to staunch the flow of water.
“Yeah, if you ask me, it’s the same with Little Red Lollipop as it is with other female perps,” Jimmy said. “They’re good for three things: fight, flight, or—and not that I would know anything about this third one, but fu—”
Scott reared up out of his seat and grabbed Jimmy by the shoulders. Startled, the officer dropped his cup of coffee, the mug cracking on the floor and the liquid sloshing out onto the tiles.
Shoving Jimmy against the wall by the bulletin board, Scott made his voice carry across the bullpen as the room fell into silence.
“You know what, Jimmy? No one asked you,” he growled.
He practically lifted the other man against the wall, high enough Jimmy was on tip toes, his face scarlet with shock and embarrassment.
“If I hear you say anything more about Kim Xavier,” Scott said, “and especially that damn nickname, I’m going to put you through this wall. Do you understand me?”