Page 112 of Love Takes Home

“Zach, along with Lucas, Harper, and Owen, has been on tiny kid duty for a while. Lucas has begged me to have you call him,” Davis says. “He’s really worried about you.”

“Poor kid. Does anyone have a charger? My phone is dead.”

“I have one,” Claire offers, pulling it out of her bag and plugging in my phone. “Wasn’t sure how long I’d be here.” She smiles at me and winks. “And my husband gets a little crazy when he can’t find me.”

“You have one of those, too?” Trish laughs.

“Hey!” Davis says.

“You don’t get to say anything until you forgive your father and move forward,” Trish says. “Fully forgive your father. You begged to name your damn kid after him, for goodness’ sake!”

Joker turns to Claire. “You should probably just leave a few cards. If they don’t remember you, then at least they’ll have your number.”

“I have her number,” Trish grins at Joker. “And the kids love her.”

“I’ll have to stop and see them while I’m here. Sounds like Lucas might need some reassurance?”

“He does. Because of this whole thing,” Trish confirms.

“Sammy?” I ask. “What do we know? Are you here to arrest me?”

“No. I’m not. We saw the security footage. We couldn’t hear what was said, but we saw him attack you.”

“There’s no sound?” I ask.

“No. Not on those. What did he say to you?”

“He said my friends were getting too close to figuring shit out, and that he never does his own dirty work?”

“Why did he hit you?” Sammy asks as gently as he can.

“Because I told him that the longer we were apart, the more I realized he needed me more than I needed him.”

“Good girl,” Joker mutters under his breath.

“Fuck yeah,” Trish says, not even trying to hide anything.

“What did he pull out of his pocket?” Sammy asks, trying to bring the conversation back.

“A jagged piece of what he said was my cello. He was going to stab me with it. He wanted to watch me bleed.”

“I swear, it’s a good thing that fucker is fucking dead or I’d fucking kill him.” I reach out and squeeze Joker’s knee. He looks at me and shakes his head. “Sorry.”

“What about the boys?” I ask. “What’s going to happen with them?”

“They have been in questioning all day. Mr. Brown was a pill pusher. He offered the kids enough drugs to get them to agree to anything he wanted. And he got them messed up enough this morning that they did all the damage. They’re sitting in holding right now. They are all sixteen or older.”

“Let them go,” I tell him.

“What? No!” Davis objects.

“You can’t do that,” Joker voices his opinion.

“They are kids. They don’t belong in jail, they belong in rehab. They were used and abused by someone they thought they could trust. They need sympathy and understanding, not hard time.”

“There are still going to be charges brought against them for destruction of school property. And there will probably be some type of fine to replace the instruments,” Sammy tells us.

“Don’t include the Eastman in that cost. Please. That was my personal property and I don’t want that on them. Can I talk to someone to help them?”

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