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She doesn’t bring up Ryder or who he really is to her. She doesn’t offer much about her personal life, and the only things I can tell her about mine are outdated.
As we finish eating, I wonder if she told me secrets while I was unconscious. Did she feel safe enough to tell me everything while I was incapable of holding on to those confidences?
She starts washing the dishes before I can even stand, but I don’t leave her alone in the kitchen.
She doesn’t even have to talk to keep me invested.
“Do you want some popcorn?” I offer, looking in the pantry. “I figure I’ll pick the movie tonight since you’ve been subjecting me to game shows and dream home shows.”
“I think I’m just going to head to bed,” she says, not bothering to look over her shoulder.
I glance at the clock on the microwave. It’s only a quarter after six.
I’m struck with the idea to remind her that she’s supposed to work, helping me until midnight, but doing so would only make me a giant asshole. I can’t force her to spend time with me if she doesn’t want to. Hell, I don’t think I want that. I imagine the woman has had to do a lot of shit that made her unhappy, and I don’t want to contribute to that.
“Sleep well,” I tell her as I leave the kitchen.
A few minutes later, I’m on the couch, flipping through the channels and finding absolutely nothing that appeals to me, when she walks through. She doesn’t bother to speak on her way to her bedroom.
The click of her bedroom lock is like a gunshot through the house.
It tells me exactly where her head is and what she expects from me. Last night, she may have been vulnerable when I held her all night, but right now, she’s not interested.
I don’t see her for the rest of the night.
I keep the volume low so I don’t disturb her. At least that’s what I tell myself. Honestly, I keep my ears peeled so I can hear if she takes a phone call or worse yet, if she starts crying again.
If she thinks a tiny fucking lock on an inside door will keep me from getting to her if I hear her upset, she’s misread everything about me.
I press my ear to her door about ten, and after hearing nothing, I head to my room.
I wonder, as I strip down to my boxers, how I should handle this. Hell, there may be nothing for me to handle, but I feel completely out of my fucking element. I’m not a hearts and flowers type of guy.
The one time I felt more than a passing arousal toward a woman, she shot me down after spending one night together. It feels like a sinister type of déjà vu, this situation between Sunshine and me. It’s reminiscent of the years I spent pining after Rivet before making a move. Maybe I’m just meant to be alone, to want women who don’t want me in return.
I spend hours trying to solve the problem, even though I know it’s impossible. I’m trying to put a puzzle together with less than half the pieces.
Chapter 25
Sunshine
“Just take a deep breath,” Faith says with genuine concern on her face.
I nod, doing as she requested. I’ve been at the attorney’s office for ten minutes, and I already feel less judgment than I did walking up to the gas station last week to see the red and blue lights flashing and every cop there staring at me.
“I haven’t talked to my mom since,” I tell her, coming to the conclusion of everything I know.
It should take longer than ten minutes to explain how and why I’ve gone the last five days without my son.
Faith offers me another tissue, and I take it with a nearly breathless thank you.
“I wish I could just demand that social services give you Ryder back, but I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way.”
I nod. I don’t have inflated hopes, but at the same time, I feel like this woman is actually listening to me and has every intention of helping me as best she can.
“I know they are going to allow supervised visitation for the time being, but they aren’t impressed that you missed yesterday’s visit.”
I freeze, my hands starting to tremble. “Y-yesterday?”
“I’m guessing by the look on your face, you didn’t know about it.”
I feel a wave of anger threatening to take over my body. Although I’m not usually a violent person, I can’t help but feel the rationality in it.
“We’ll remedy that immediately,” Faith says, jotting something down on paper. “It’s not unheard of that things like this slip through the cracks. Mrs. Brunello is normally more diligent, but mistakes happen.”
“Her mistake will be blamed on me.”
Faith shakes her head. “We’ll get phone records if we have to, to prove you weren’t notified.”
