“She was great.”
“You dog.”
“Shut up,” I say flatly. “She was a great nanny and did the job she was hired to do.”
“Isn’t that all that matters?”
I shake my head, unsure.
“Hey, Danielle?” Owen calls. “I have a moral question for you.”
“Uh, sure?” Danielle looks up from the pool table.
“Two guys walk into the bar—”
“Are you forgetting little ears are present?” Danielle puts a hand on her hip and stares at Owen.
“It’s not a dirty joke,” he deadpans. “Two guys walk into the bar, both with the intent to rob the place at gunpoint. The first guy doesn’t go through with it, even though he walked in the doors with the intention of doing it. The second guy does rob the place.”
“Okay…what’s the moral question?”
“Who’s worse? Or are they both as bad since they both intended on doing the same thing?”
“The guy who actually robbed the place is worse. Though I suppose you’d need to know why the other guy didn’t go through with the robbery. If it was for self-preservation, like he knew he couldn’t get away so he decided to wait until another night when the bar was less crowded or something, then I suppose he’s still as bad as the second guy. But if he didn’t rob the place because he had a change of heart, then he’s not as bad.”
“Does that help?” Owen asks.
“I think so.” I rub my forehead, feeling a migraine coming on. “What would you do if you were me?”
The smirk fades and Owen unscrews the lid to the whiskey. “I wouldn’t let her be the one that got away.”
“You’d go after her.”
“I’d run after her.” He refills our shot glasses. “If she was going to con you, she would have. And once she realized you weren’t who she thought she was going to work for, she would have left and moved onto another couple to con. But she stayed because she had a change of heart.”
“But you don’t know that.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I don’t. Just like you don’t know she didn’t. Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did she have a house back in Chicago?”
“No. She lived in an apartment and gave up her lease to take this job.”
“Maybe Quinn can hack into her phone. Track her location or something.”
“No, I don’t want her involved.” I don’t want anyone else in the family involved, but that goes without saying to Owen. He’ll tell Logan, I’m sure. They claim to have a hard time lying to each other, saying it’s a ‘twin thing’ and non-twins don’t understand.
“I know where her sister is.” I sit up. “And she’ll know where Scarlet is.”
“What are you waiting for?” Owen asks. “Go!”
“I can’t just drive up to a prison and ask to see a random inmate.”
“But you’re a cop.” He gives me a blank stare.
"I know, but it doesn’t work that way. Though I might be able to get her on the phone.” I pull out my cell to look up the number for the prison. “I’ll have to make a few calls.” I open the internet and type in the name of the prison. “I get no service here.”
“I know. It’s become a dead-zone after the old cell tower was replaced by a different carrier.”
“What’s your wifi password?”
“Shit. I don’t remember. Quinn set it up…try I love cats or something.”
“Even Quinn wouldn’t be that obvious.” Still, I try a handful of guesses, text Quinn for help, and wait a whole two seconds before getting frustrated with her lack of reply.
Owen gets up. “What do you need info on? We can look it up on the office computer.”
“I’ll be in here,” I tell Jackson and Danielle, motioning to the office. He’s using his hands to push in the balls on the pool table, and is excited to be ‘winning.’ It’ll be okay. I’ll get Scarlet back. For me and for him.
Owen puts in the password and steps aside, letting me sit in the desk chair. “Are you in love with her?”
“Yes.” I don’t hesitate, don’t try to hide my feelings. There’s no point. I do love Scarlet, and I love her fiercely.
“Then you’ve got to do this, man. You have to go get her. Take it from me,” he starts but doesn’t finish. I write down the prison’s phone number and address, closing the internet browser and letting out a breath. I’m so tense my shoulders are killing me. Standing, I turn to Owen.
“Thanks.”
“No problem. But I do think we should mark this date down in history as the day you came to me for advice.”
“I was actually hoping Logan was here.”
“Fuck you.”
I laugh. “He probably would have said the opposite.”
“No shit. He plays it too safe.” Owen shakes his head. “He’s going to miss his chance with her,” he says, meaning Danielle. “But what am I—”
He cuts off when he hears Danielle loudly tell someone the bar isn’t open yet.
“Ah, shit. I bet that’s Bart again.”
“Your resident drunk?”
“Yeah. Poor bastard’s drunk more than he is sober. We started giving him protein shakes and saying they’re full of vodka. He drinks them at least. Hopefully it’ll help him put on a few pounds before winter.”
“Owen!” Danielle calls and both my brother and I run. Danielle is standing behind the pool table, holding Jackson’s hand. Her eyes are wide and full of fear, and Jackson looks confused.
“Daddy!” he yells and tries to make a run for me. But she’s faster.
Daisy grabs Jackson, and he immediately starts to struggle, just like I taught him in the event someone tries to kidnap him.
"It’s okay, I’m your mom,” Daisy tells him, and he freezes.
“Daisy.” I rush over, blood boiling. “Put him down.”
“Dad?” Jackson asks, looking back and forth between Daisy and myself. “Is this Mommy?”
“Yes, baby!” Daisy hugs him and drops to her knees, tears falling from her eyes. “I’m your mommy.”
“Let him go,” I tell her. “You have no right to be here.”
“He’s my son! I have every right that you—”
“Legally,” I interrupt. “You have no rights. Let him go and leave.”
“No.” She stands up, holding Jackson’s hand. She looks down at him, smiling. “Want to go get ice cream? We can catch up.”
“Okay,” Jackson says, not too sure of himself.
I clench my fists. I could easily stride over and shove her away, but I don’t want Jackson to see me lay a finger on Daisy. And I don’t want to hurt her. Deep down, I feel bad for her. She’s missing out on the greatest kid in the whole fucking world.
“No. Let him go,” I say again in a calm, level voice. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Owen pull out his phone and start recording a video. I know exactly what he’s doing: getting proof of Daisy trying to take my son. Thank you, Owen, for thinking two steps ahead for once.
“You have no legal standing to take him,” I repeat. “You gave up custody when you left us four years ago. Let him go.”
“No,” she says again and shuffles back. “I’m taking him and you can’t stop me.”
“Should I call the cops?” Danielle asks, voice trembling a bit.
“Yes,” I tell her. “Tell them exactly what’s going on. Jackson’s non-custodial mother is trying to take him.”
“Daddy, I’m scared.” Jackson tries to pull away and Daisy tightens her grip. I rush forward, and she picks him up, holding him so tight she’s hurting him. He kicks and hits a table, knocking a few glasses onto the ground. They shatter, and glass crunches under her feet. If I try to wrestle him out of her arms, she could drop him or fall, and he’ll get cut.
Shuffling away from me and toward the door, I advance, going around a table and blocking the exit.
“Get the fuck out of my way!” Daisy struggles to keep a hold of J
ackson. The kid is only four, but he takes after me and is solid.
“Put him down,” I say again. If she gets out the door, she’s going to take him. She came here to kidnap him, though she won’t see it that way. But it’s exactly what it is. There’s no way I’m letting her out that door.
Or walk out of here free.
“Ow!” Jackson cries, twisting as he tries to get out of her arms. She adjusts him against her, gripping his arms so tight his skin is turning red.
“For God’s sake, you’re hurting him!” I yell. That’s it. I’m getting Jackson back. But before I can make a move, Daisy puts Jackson down, takes a death grip on his wrist, and pulls a can of pepper spray from her purse, pointing it at me.
“Jackson, it’s okay,” I say, swallowing hard. She’s really come unhinged. Or desperate. I don’t know which is worse right now.
“You can’t keep him away from me.”
“Daisy.” I hold up my hands, heart racing. Pepper spray is far from lethal, but I don’t want Jackson to go through the pain of getting it in his eyes or inhaling it. “We can work something out. Just let Jackson go.”
Jackson starts struggling again, crying and calling for me. “It’s okay,” I tell him again. “Daisy, think about this. Is this how you want to start a relationship with your son?”
Daisy’s face goes slack and she looks down, realizing what she’s doing. She lets go of Jackson and he runs to me, crying. Having him in my arms again is the best feeling. I scoop him up, never wanting to let go.
Daisy starts crying, and Owen rushes over. I hand him Jackson, heart aching a bit not to have him in my arms. I rush forward and take the pepper spray from Daisy.
“Don’t do this to me,” Daisy says, looking up.
“I’m not. You did this to yourself.” I inhale and hear sirens in the distance. Thank fucking goodness. I didn’t want to be the one to make Daisy’s official arrest.
39
Scarlet
I sit up, eyes waking up before my mind. I’m uncomfortable with stiff legs and an aching back, and for a split second, I think I fell asleep sitting up on the couch. Then I blink and realize my eyes are still sore and swollen from crying.
Yes, crying.
The room is dark, and I sit up, stretching my arms over my head. I didn’t mean to fall asleep in the stiff armchair next to my father’s bed at the nursing home. After leaving Weston’s house, I walked into town, took Eastwood’s only taxi to Newport and was able to get an Uber to drive me up to Chicago.
I didn’t know where else to go other than the nursing home. Dad was having a bad day, and just sat in his chair not really paying attention to anything. So, for the first time in my entire life, I spilled my guts. Said everything I ever wanted to say. Confessed the bad things I’ve done as well as admit just how deep my love for Weston goes.
And Dad just sat there, staring blankly in my general direction. A little empathy would have been nice, and advice on how not to farther fuck up my life would have been welcome.
But I got nothing.
Rubbing my eyes, I get up, moving slowly in the dark. My phone is in my purse, and it’s dead.
“Dammit,” I mutter. I have no idea what time it is, and I think I left my phone charger in the kitchen at Weston’s house. I left in such a rush I wouldn’t be surprised if I left more behind. Moving slow so I don’t wake up my dad or his roommate, I go into the hall, blinking from the bright lights.
“Oh!” a nurse exclaims, surprised to see me. “I thought you left.”
“I fell asleep.” I rub the back of my neck, trying to work out a knot. “What time is it?”
“A little after two AM.”
“Shit. Sorry. I’ll, uh, I’ll go.”
The nurse shakes her head. “Stay. It’s late and I know you walk back to your place. Just this one time, though, you hear?”
“Thank you.” I go to the bathroom and then back to Dad’s room. The nurse put an extra blanket on the chair for me, and I’m grateful. These rooms are fucking freezing.
“Scarlet?” Dad is sitting up in his bed.
“Dad.” I rush over, clicking on the light over his bed so he can see me. “It’s late. You should go back to sleep.”
“You listen to me,” he starts. I don’t have the emotional bandwidth to deal with one of his flashback rants right now. “You’re a Cooper, and Coopers don’t give up.”
“What?”
“You love that boy?”
I blink, unsure if I’m hearing him correctly. “Weston. Yes. I love him a lot.”
“Then what the fuck are you doing here?”
“I…I…” I don’t know what to say. “I had to leave or else his ex-wife was going to publish an article about him that made him seem unfit to be the county sheriff. It would have ruined his chances of winning and he was so close. And besides…once he hears what I did—what I used to do—I don’t think he’ll see me the same.”
“So you’re running away with your tail tucked between your legs? I might not have raised you, but I know that’s not the type of girl you are. You have more Cooper blood in you than that.”
“I just…I…” I shake my head. Dad’s having a rare moment of clarity and I’ve been honest all night. Why stop here? “I’m scared. Scared to hear him tell me he doesn’t want me. Scared to see the look of anger or disgust on his face when he sees me. I left to save his career but also to escape rejection.”
“I’ve been waiting to hear you admit that.” Wrinkles form around Dad’s mouth as he smiles. “I was scared to come back to you for the same reason.”
“Really?” I perch on the edge of the heater vent next to his bed. The air coming out is room temperature, which is why this place is so fucking cold.
“Yeah. I was sure you’d hate me.”
“I did hate you.”
“Only for a while.” Dad yawns and looks around the room. “What time is it?”
“Two in the morning.”
He yawns, and I know his mind is going to start slipping back into whatever fog it’s usually in. He’ll forget about our conversation in the morning. Memory is such a wondrous and confusing thing.
“You should get home. You have school in the morning. We’ll talk about the boy tomorrow.”
“Okay. Thanks, Dad.”
“It will work out.” He nods and reaches forward to pat my shoulder. His balance is off, and I don’t want him to fall out of bed. I stand, moving closer. “If he’s a decent boy at all, he’ll see you for what you are.”
“I hope so,” I whisper and gently push Dad back down. I don’t know what I am…but I know what I want to be.
I want to be with Weston and Jackson. I want to go back to Eastwood. I want us to be a family.
* * *
I tuck my legs up under myself, trying to get comfortable. About an hour after I got Dad back to sleep, his roommate woke up and has been in bed hollering for pain meds nonstop ever since. The nurse came in, told him he’s not due to have any more for another few hours and told me that he does this pretty much nightly.
Great. Just fucking great.
I put on my winter coat and folded up the blanket, trying to use it as a pillow. My suitcases full of all my possessions are cluttering up the room, and every time I see them my heart sinks even lower into my chest. It’s going back to that dark crevice it clawed its way out of, and it hurts more and more the lower it gets.
I thought about Dad’s words and see truth to them. But I’m still scared, both for myself and for Weston. I’ll take his anger and disappointment in me any day over the possibility of ruining everything he’s worked for. I’ll get over it. Somehow, someway.
I know Jackson will someday face adversity in his life, but if I can keep him innocent and carefree, I will. Weston does a good fucking job hiding his trouble and stresses from the kid. But there’s only so much he can handle. Having Daisy come back, finding out my dark past, and losing his job…nope. I won’t have it.
I doze off for about an ho
ur and wake up with terrible cramps in my legs. I roll my big suitcase over and stretch out my legs, trying to get comfortable again. I’m so tired, physically and emotionally. I close my eyes and drift to sleep, dreaming that I’m back at Weston’s and everything is perfect.
Dad’s roommate wakes me up. He gets out of bed and some sort of alarm goes off. And off. And off. Finally, I get up, pull back the curtain that divides the room in half and see the guy sitting on the edge of his bed, about to face plant on the floor.
“Hey,” I say to him, but it’s no use. He’s even farther gone than my own dad, and I don’t think I’ll get lucky with another moment of clarity. I duck into the hall, looking for someone to help me get him back into bed. There’s no one in sight. Grumbling, I spend the next fifteen minutes trying to get him to lay back down.
Once he’s down, I get my toothbrush and go to the bathroom, brush my teeth, and come back to the room. I pull my messy hair into a bun and grab a new sweater to change into. Dad is still asleep and should be getting up for breakfast soon. My stomach grumbles at the thought of food. There’s a crappy diner that serves crappy food not far from here, and they open at six AM. I know this because I used to work there until I got laid off.
I grab my purse, shove my luggage into the corner of Dad’s room and hope no one steals it while I’m out, and step into the cold November air, keeping my head down as I walk the streets.
I make it to the diner with only a few catcalls and one offer to take a ride on some guys pogo stick. Not bad considering how hellish I look right now. I’m in no mood to talk to anyone I used to work with, and of course luck has it out for me again.
“Scarlet, hey!” Trisha, another waitress, says. “Haven’t seen you in a long time. How’ve you been, girl?”
“Good.” I put on my fake smile.
“You left for some fancy nanny job, right?”
“Right.”
She raises her eyebrows. “But you’re back. We’re not hiring, hun.”
Dawson Family Boxset: Books 1-3 with Bonus Content Page 75