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“Why does it have to be me?”
“Because you’re the strong one.” I shook her again. “You have no idea how lucky you are to have them, and you’re about a step away from losing them. If you don’t care about a relationship with them for yourself, don’t take them from Blake and Gummy.”
She winced. “Lucky? How can you say that?”
“Do you know what I’d give to have what you have? People who love me no matter how many mistakes I make? Who live and breathe for my happiness?” I pointed up the stairs. “That man up there, you are his world. He doesn’t do anything without thinking about what’s best for all of you. And you’re just going to throw it away.”
“I’m not the only one screwing things up.”
“So what?” I exploded. “So. The fuck. What?”
She recoiled, and I dropped my hands from her shoulders. Her nose twitched. Her look begged me for understanding. Gummy was going to have the family I couldn’t give her. Mr. Dixon, Mrs. Quinn, Andrew, Holt, Trish, Baker, Ella . . . they were all part of that.
She glanced behind me, then edged around, darting up the stairs with Blake in hand. I sagged against the railing. Had I finally gotten through to her?
I hauled the stroller back up to the apartment and wheeled it just inside the foyer. Tempting as it was, I didn’t stick around.
I wentfor the bottle the second I hit the door. The study was lit only by the dim light of the desk lamp. I chugged back the amber liquid and lolled my hands to the side. Headlights illuminated the little handprints on the window.
They were a sucker punch.
I hated Wicked for this. We didn’t have to be here in this hell where no one was happy.
I missed Blake. I missed her. I missed Gummy.
She didn’t have to tell me she was sorry. If she just made a single step toward me, I’d forget all that had gone down between us.
“Like that.” I snapped my finger in front of my face.
The answers to our problems weren’t in the bottom of this bottle, but it was this or work on the case. I was in no frame of mind for that.
So I drank.
Thought about Marlow and how she held all the power. I seemed bound to end up without the one thing I wanted most. A family like hers. Maybe it was my penance.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. Hope sprang that she’d decided to forget this shit.
Tick.
The unknown number.
I tossed the phone to the rug and shrugged off my jacket. The screen lit and buzzed on the floor.
Tick.
I needed to call the women’s prison and have Heather Buchan’s computer privileges revoked. For what she’d done, nobody should be helping her out, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they were.
She needed to quit this shit.
Tick.
I swigged from the bottle. My mind muddled. Had Wicked worked it out with her dad? I’d give her up if it meant she got to keep all of them. She needed her family even if she didn’t know it. And Blake. As much as I loved keeping that little dude every day, I’d never take him away from Mr. Dixon.
Boom.
The doorbelland simultaneous pounding stirred me. My phone danced across the rug.
This scenario was all too familiar.
