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I think about calling Squealer and telling him about this, but I just can’t face him right now. Not with everything that's happened this morning.
So, instead I put the handwritten threat into my top drawer and throw myself into my work.
I spend the day trying not to think about Hawker or Squealer, and I definitely don’t want to think about babies. How can two lines change so much?
It’s late when I get home from my shift. I’ve spent an entire eight hours going through Roswell’s old cases and putting them into a more obtainable order. I’m ready to go to bed and write the day off. I check my phone and see four missed calls from Squealer. He’s right, I’m being a bitch, but I can’t deal with him right now. I’ve got to get my own head straight. Thinking you're pregnant is one thing. Knowing you're pregnant is a different story.
I expect Abby to be waiting for me when I get home, but all the lights are out, and when I head to the fridge to grab a bottle of water that will hopefully wash the metallic taste from my mouth, I notice the note on the fridge.
“Robbie finally came to town. Here’s his number in case you’re worrying he’s a psycho.”
She’s drawn a winky face under her message, and it makes me smile to myself. I’ve never been left a note on the fridge before, it’s nice.
When I open the fridge, there’s a half-finished bottle of wine staring back at me, and I pull it out and reach into the cupboard for a glass. I stare at it before I take the first sip. Hell, I could use a drink after the day I’ve had. It doesn’t matter that I'm gonna drink a glass of wine. I’m pretty sure pregnancy rules don’t apply when you have no intention of keeping the baby, but staring at the glass in front of me, it just doesn’t seem right.
I send Abby a text to check she’s okay.
Enjoy your date, text if you need “that friend”
Then after pouring the wine down the sink, I head to the bathroom to soak away the day and try my best to relax.
I guess maternal instinct is a thing after all.
I’ve given Alex space. I’ve stayed out of her way. But her ignoring my calls is out of fucking order. The club has got eyes on the apartment where Hawker and Chop have been seen, and the passport Jessie found is a huge lead. One that if Alex answered her phone, she’d know about.
“How you holding up?” Krissy places a beer on the bar that I’m staring at.
“I’m good,” I lie, lighting up what has to be my fifth straight cigarette.
“I could get Storm to cover the bar so I could make you even better,” she suggests, flicking that blonde hair of hers over her shoulder. Krissy’s hot, but she ain’t Alex, and I hate myself for even thinking that sentence in my head.
“Didn't you get the memo?” I growl back at her. Everyone around here knows that my dick is out of fucking order, it’s all anyone seems capable of talking about.
“I got the memo. You just look like you could use some cheering up.”
“Well, I don’t, okay.” I turn my back on her, facing out toward the room full of couples. Grimm and Rogue, Brax and Grace, even Tac’s got some weird thing going on with Maddy’s mom these days. Last night I’d felt like one of them. Alex fit in so well with everyone it made it easy. That seems like such a long time ago now; so much has changed. She’s carrying my kid, for Christ's sake. And I’m here, powerless to where she is and what she’s fucking thinking.
When the door swings open I look up, a stupid part of me expects it to be her, but it's not. It’s Tawk, and he looks filthy.
“The fuck you been?” I look him up and down when he comes to stand beside me.
“I followed Abby after she left here earlier,” he explains, almost as if he’s embarrassed.
“Followed her where exactly?” he looks like he’s been the referee in a mud wrestling competition.
“Foresters Hill,” he says the name of the place like he’s angry at it, and I know exactly why he would be. It ain't no secret that Abby had an addiction before she came here. Foresters Hill is where those kids we spoke to have been using. Abby and Alex have got real close lately, she’s living with her now, and before I have a chance to figure out what I'm gonna do about it, I’m moving toward the door.
“Relax.” Tawk presses his palm into my chest.
“I followed her out there, and I watched her, that’s what I was thinking too, but I was wrong. She didn’t use. She just sat and sketched in that book she carries around with her.”
“So she didn’t take anything?” I double-check, knowing it would crush Alex if she did, and I don’t even want to think about what Brax and Nyx would do to her. The basement rooms are freezing this time of year.
“She left a picture pinned to the trees, a message to the kids that go there I guess.” Tawk pulls out his phone and shows me the photo he’s taken of the tree trunk. Pinned into the wood is a sketch, with lots of different shades of black and grey. There’s a girl with long hair sticking to her skin and a sad look on her face. She’s holding a syringe in one hand and the world in her other. Surrounding her in much lighter shades are people, happy faces, that I recognize. Ella, Nyx, and the kids. Danny, Brax, and Grace, even me and Alex.
“So why are you covered in mud?” I question.
Because just as I was leaving, some crazy old man set his fucking dog on me. I had to climb a tree to get away, and by the time the dog gave up, it got dark, and I couldn't see where I was.”
