“No, it’s about the check for this month.”
“Okay”—I feel like I’m going to vomit—“what about it?”
“It bounced.” I have to put my hand on the table. “Came back two days ago.”
“That’s . . .” I shake my head. “That’s impossible.” I get a sick feeling in my gut. “Can I call you back? I’m going to check with the bank right now. I know there is money in there. There is always money in that account.”
“I figured something was wrong. Call me back after you get off the phone with the bank.”
I hang up the phone, pull out the chair, and open my bank app on my phone. I blink my eyes twice. My account is showing a twenty-three-cent balance.
“No-no-no-no-no.” I press the account to see the transactions. Right under the forty-three-dollar fee for the returned house payment check is the check I made out to my father for one hundred dollars. And under that is another check for one thousand dollars, also made out to my father. I press the check number to see the image. My signature is definitely forged. “Oh my god.” I drop the phone and put my hands on my head. “This isn’t happening.”
I pull up the last number I had for my father, and an automated voice message states: The number you have dialed is not in service. I’m not surprised it’s disconnected.
I close my eyes, trying not to have a full-blown panic attack. “A thousand dollars.” My stomach lurches. “How the fuck am I going to fucking cover it?” I put my head back. I know how I’m going to cover it, I just don’t want to go down that road. It’s going to take me almost five months to get back on my feet from this. Five months, when the money should be going to what I need for the baby. “I hate them,” I say. In five months, I’ll be ready to go on maternity leave.
I call Mickey back. He answers after two rings. “Hey, Mickey.” I try not to let him hear I’m on the verge of crying. “I’m so sorry. I forgot about a payment that was going through my account and I?—”
“That’s okay, Collins,” he says. “If you want, how about we skip this month and then add it to the end balance?” I look up at the ceiling. “Would that work for you?”
“Umm, yeah. I was going to borrow it from my credit card.”
“That’s silly, we’ll just tack it onto the end balance.”
“Mickey.” I can’t stop the quiver in my voice. “You don’t know how much this helps right now.”
“We’ve all been there,” he offers. “Don’t worry your head over it.” His kindness makes this even worse. “You let me know if you are okay for the next one.”
“I’ll be okay for the next one.” I get up and walk over to the cabinet that has my checks in it, and see that the one they forged is the only one they took. “Thank you for being so understanding.”
“You take care,” he says and disconnects the phone.
“What the fuck?” I swear and then cringe. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
The sob I’d been holding back rips right through me, and my hand goes to my mouth to stop it from escaping. I’m not sad, I’m angry at myself for letting them make me feel this small. I’m angry that once again, instead of taking one step forward, I’m two steps back. I’m angry I spent the weekend with people who just met me and already treat me better than the ones who gave me life. How could my parents have done this to me again?
I’m done. I’m 1,000 percent done with them. The next time I see them, it’s going to be the last time.
I put my hand to my stomach and vow: “I promise you, I will never let them hurt us again.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
THEO
I turn down the street, my heart speeding up, and a smile filling my face on instinct. I pull up in her driveway, and I can see some of the lights on inside. I thought it was going to be an early day, but by the time I went to the office and we had a debrief, it was already five. We went over a list of all the tools that have been stolen over the past three weeks, trying to decide if we should put in an insurance claim, but knowing we’d need a police report first. Caleb and Frankie spent all of Sunday installing cameras at all our jobsites, so we are now just going to wait and see what happens. I’m hoping we catch Claire in the act, then I can hand over all the footage to Burke so he can deal with her.
Collins texted me she was going to nap from one to four and mentioned she was going to bed at nine to be up at two. I pull up, grabbing the white box from the seat beside me. I ring the doorbell and hear her shout, “Come in!”
Both the heat inside and the aroma assault me right away. “Smells amazing.” I put the box down on the kitchen counter.
She’s wearing a pair of loose shorts with a tank top, standing in front of the stove with a spoon in one hand and the frying pan in the other. Her hair is piled high on top of her head.
I put my hands on her hips, kissing her neck, and then lean my head next to hers to see the pan filled with corn and pieces of bacon. “What are we making?” I notice her eyes are red, as if she had been crying. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” She quickly turns back to the pan. “I was cutting an onion. How was your day?”
I don’t know why, but I know she’s hiding something. I tilt my head to the side. “Long. Missed you.”
