Page 154 of Hot Shot

When I left for work yesterday, it was the fucking last thing I wanted to do. Leaving Cass to think about it all day alone? Leaving her arms, the only place I found comfort? I don’t know how I did it, but I dragged my exhausted ass out of bed and to the station, counting the seconds until I could get home again.

I wish I’d been there when the bully’s mom came over, but it was probably best that it was just the two of them. The way that family wielded their power made me sick, and if Cass didn’t love her job so much, I’d have tried to convince her not to go back. But she does. So when the principal called and asked herto return, she was over the moon, and I was too. Today, she has a few meetings at the school, and tomorrow she’ll start work again.

I’d go to war for her, but she can take care of herself. She doesn’t need anything from me but my support, despite my desire to tell every one of those smug motherfuckers every which way they can go to hell.

Whatever she wants, I want. Simple as that.

When I drive into Franklinville, my stomach flips with nerves. Cricket’s ladybug pillow is between my forearm and the center console. I’ve been fiddling with the felt antennae for the hour it’s taken me to get here, lost in thought, playing through every scenario. Are we all calm enough to have a real conversation about everything? The Wilson’s grief over Ashley’s death had barely begun to heal, and now that they know who killed her and why? The wound must have torn open again. Will they be too raw to hear me now?

My pulse thuds harder the closer I get to the house, and by the time I pull into the driveway, the pressure in my chest is unbearable. A heavy breath doesn’t vent it. Only one thing will, and she’s inside that house.

I grab Cricket’s pillow and get out of the truck to get her back.

I’m halfway to the door when it flies open and she sprints out. I meet her halfway, scooping her up and squeezing her as tight as I can without hurting her. She grips me like a koala.

“Hi, Daddy,” she says into my neck, half crying.

My heart breaks, but now that she’s in my arms, at least I can breathe. “Hey, baby. God, I missed you.”

“Can we go home now? Please?”

“I need to talk to Nana and Pops,” I hedge.

She lets me go to look at me expectantly. “And then we can go?”

“We’ll see.”

She frowns, but nods, curling up to tuck her head under my chin.

Patty and Paul stand in the doorframe looking haggard, greeting me pensively when I reach them before moving out of the way. Their eyes are ringed with red, and I have a feeling they haven’t slept either. Cricket won’t let me go, and I don’t try to put her down as I head into the living room. I still haven’t shaken the sound and sight of her the last time I had to let her go.

I sit in an armchair, shifting her so she’s sideways in my lap. When I hand her the ladybug, she makes me feel like a king, beaming up at me, hugging it to her chest and leaning into mine. I cage her in my arms with the possessiveness of a wild animal, wondering if I’m going to be able to leave without her.

With a squeeze and a kiss pressed to her crown, I try to relax.

She’s safe. You have her. It’s okay.

We make small talk for a little while, none of us willing to broach the real shit with Cricket in my lap.

“Cricket,” Patty starts, “wanna come help me get some cheese and crackers?”

“No, thank you,” she mumbles.

“Honey, the grownups need to talk,” Paul says. “Why don’t you go help Nana for a minute? Your daddy isn’t going anywhere.”

I don’t want to let her go, but resolve not to protest if she wants to go.

She doesn’t. “You’re gonna talk about me?”

“Well, yes,” he admits.

“Then how come I can’t hear?”

We all look at each other, but in the end, I say, “We don’t want you to be sad, baby.”

“If I get to go home, I won’t be sad,” she notes helpfully.

“I know.” I hug her and kiss her hair again. “Go on with Nana just for a minute. When you get back, I’ll stay as long as you want. Okay?”

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