Page 7 of Finding Gwen

I never wanted Oliver to worry about losing his father. To keep oscurità mia from consuming me, I decided to occasionally help Jason, releasing all the built up anger and bloodlust on the unsuspecting assholes who thought they could get away with the abuse and rape. At the end of the day, I still wasn’t there for Oliver as much as I should be. As much as I tried to be enough, he needed more.

“Have you heard anything from that nanny agency? Carol’s Caregivers or whatever?” Jason pushed off the wall, walking over to the fucker still passed out and kicking his foot. I watched as he pulled back his head, making sure he was still alive, before letting it fall back down.

“I have a meeting with one today. Carol said she seems like the perfect fit. I’m just glad that they handle all the business side of things and all I have to do is say yes or no to candidates as they come along. These last few, though,” I rolled my eyes, “I’m not sure where they came from, but now I’m getting desperate.”

“When are you meeting this new one?”

“Four o’clock.”

“Um, Tony? It’s four now.” Jason chuckled as I frantically looked at my watch.

“Fuck!” I quickly grabbed my badge and gun from a beat up filing cabinet near the door before running out.

As I made it to the back door of the warehouse we were in, I heard Jason shout after me. “Good luck! You’re gonna need it!”

Chapter Five

Gwen

As I pulled up outside of the two-story brick house, I double checked the house number to make sure I was at the right place. Carol had come over this morning to the AirBnB so I could borrow her car. She didn’t want me to be at the whim of the Chicago Ubers. Plus, she had said there were plenty of things she and Ivy still needed to catch up on. I was feeling extremely grateful right now, not only for my best friend who flew with me to Chicago in order to support me every step of the way, but also for the friend I had found in Carol.

Looking at the clock on the dashboard, I decided knocking a few minutes early wouldn’t hurt too much. I left my bag behind, knowing I could grab it if needed and not wanting to carry it in with me. Making my way out of the car, I walked to the front door, taking note of the houses on the street. The address Carol had given me was in a little suburb just outside of Chicago. It hadn’t taken long to get here, and I could already picture all the things I could do with the little boy. Climbing the porch and finding the doorbell, I gave it a quick ring before stepping back.

It didn’t take long for the door to open, a woman who looked to be in her late thirties holding a crying toddler on her hip coming into view. The woman looked relieved to see me, and the toddler instantly stopped crying, more interested in the stranger standing in front of her. Remembering that Carol had said the dad was currently single after having gone through a divorce, I was curious to find out the identity of the mystery woman standing in front of me.

“Hi, I’m Gwen. Gwendalyn, but everyone calls me Gwen. I’m here for an interview with Mr. Marino.”

“Oh, thank heavens. Come in, please.” The woman stepped aside, letting me in, while awkwardly adjusting the little one from one side to the other. “I’m Katie, and this is Lucy. My husband and I live next door. Anthony, oh, um, Mr. Marino should have been back by now, but something must have held him up. Lucy here is running a fever, and I really need to go take care of it. Oliver is watching TV in the living room with a snack. Phone numbers are on the fridge if there is an emergency.” Before I could say anything, Katie had her bag slung over her shoulder and was out the door, the soft click of the lock quickly following.

I stood in the entryway, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Without questioning anything or even introducing me to Oliver, Katie had run out the door. If I hadn’t already had the weirdest week of my life, I may have actually been surprised.

Following the sounds of a children’s show, I found a little boy with brown curly hair sitting cross-legged on the couch with a bright orange bowl nestled in his lap. Every couple of minutes, his little hand would reach in and grab a goldfish, all while his eyes stayed glued to whatever was on the TV. At some point, he reached in, and upon not feeling any goldfish, jumped off the couch, stopping in his tracks when he noticed me standing in the doorway, his little body tensing up as he clung to his bowl.

Immediately, I got down on my knees. “Hi, Oliver, I’m Gwen,” I began in a calm voice. “Ms. Katie had to go home.” As he hesitantly began walking toward me, my mind swam with uncertainty. The normal reaction to a stranger being in your home would be to scream, yet he seemed more curious. The sound of his little feet padding across the carpet stopped directly in front of me.

“More, peas,” he said, holding out his empty bowl while looking up at me with wide eyes. I was speechless. I had never met a two-year-old who was unfazed by a complete stranger being in their house, yet here he was, more upset he was out of goldfish than me being here.

“Um, sure. Can you show me where they are?” He nodded before toddling off toward what I assumed to be the kitchen. Taking in my surroundings as we went, I followed along while he carried his bowl in his hand. The house felt bigger on the inside than it looked. Mr. Marino didn’t seem to be the decorating type–the walls blank, void of photos or decor. Wondering how long he had been doing this single dad thing, my heart broke a little for him and the little boy in front of me. When we made it to the kitchen, Oliver suddenly stopped before pointing to a cabinet near the fridge, then offered me his bowl.

Taking the bowl from his outstretched hand, I opened the cabinet and saw a makeshift snack pantry. It was stuffed full of goldfish, fruit snacks, and applesauce pouches. This dad had reached survival mode a long time ago, by the looks of it. I pulled out a bag of goldfish, filling up Oliver’s bowl before handing it to him.

“Tank you!” He grabbed a handful before shoving them into his mouth greedily. I chuckled as I watched him. He looked at me, curiosity in his eyes, as if wondering what would come next. “Trains?”

“Sure! I would love to see your trains.” A smile spread across his face as he put his bowl down on the floor and ran off. I bent down, picking up his bowl and putting it on the counter, then followed the sounds of toys hitting the floor. Oliver was leaning over a toy box that I hadn’t noticed earlier, tucked against the side of the simple gray couch. As I sat down next to him, he triumphantly pulled out a shiny black engine, holding it out to me. There was nothing but pure joy written across this boy’s face as he dug out a second train, bright red in color.

His excitement over the little things made me happy. Maybe the cruelty of the world hadn’t gotten to him yet. I didn’t know what had happened to his mom, but I did know that whatever it was, this sweet boy didn’t deserve it.

I wasn’t sure how long we sat there playing with his trains. I had found a container of train tracks, and we built an elaborate track that ran the entirety of the living room. Oliver was sitting on my lap, laughing as I narrated the train’s path in my best conductor voice, as if we were inside the train watching out the window.

“Now, if you look to your left, you can see the giant orange chair statue. The wooden legs are solid oak and can withstand even the strongest of hits. The upcoming couch tunnel is the first of its kind. Built in 1753, this gorgeous piece of architecture is one of a kind. You will never find another tunnel like this.” Oliver giggled from my lap. “Oh, no. Folks, we’re feeling some strong vibrations. Please hold on!” I made my legs jump, causing Oliver to bump around, and his giggles turned into laughs. It was contagious, and it didn’t take long before I was laughing with him.

In the middle of our laughing fit, I heard the front door open. Unsure of who it was, I stood up, putting Oliver on my hip. Before I could decide what to do next, a voice came from the front door. “Katie, you here? Oliver?” A man dressed in black slacks and a gray button-down shirt turned the corner, freezing in the doorway after making eye contact with me.

My breath hitched as I stared into his hazel eyes, a few stray pieces of his brown hair falling in front of them. His beard was neatly trimmed and was no longer than a couple inches. My eyes involuntarily roamed down his body. He was tall, and even from a distance, I could tell he had at least a foot on me. My heart skipped a beat as I once again met his gaze. As he looked at me, his face hardened, his brows pinching together.

“Who are you?” he snarled, his lip curling with anger as his eyes darkened. His hand twitched toward the gun attached to his belt, glinting in the light. My heart jumped into my throat and my stomach clenched in fear.

“I-I-I’m Gwen,” I quickly responded, my eyes darting to his hand that was hovering above the weapon. “Um, Gwendalyn. We had an interview scheduled today.” His eyes continued to burrow holes into me, the tension between us almost palpable. Slowly, the creases between his brows loosened and his hand returned to his side. Oxygen rushed back to my lungs as Oliver wriggled down from my arms.

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