Page 37 of Irish Daddies
“I know you do.”
“And James can only take so much. We have a routine to get back to.”
“I know.”
“And I’m sure you realize this, but your job at the preschool is gone, Caroline. Even for an emergency, you can’t just leave work behind. You’re supposed to call someone, communicate, inform your bosses.”
I look down at my Danish that’s suddenly looking inedible. “I know.”
“What you did was child abandonment.”
My eyes snap up to hers. Despite her angry expression, they’re swimming with tears. “Alaina, I?—”
“No, it was. Leaving your kids behind without any sort of indication as to when—Caroline, why didn’t you tell me where you were? Why did I have to use your location sharing? Why did that fuckingguycall me instead of you?” Her hands are in front of her, her fingers splayed, and her cheeks are brightpink with emotion. When I don’t answer, she waves her hands. “Huh?! Caroline, hello? And why thefuckis he calling himself something else now? Rian? What happened to Paul?”
I want to tell her the truth. Maybe I could tell the guys—no, not the guys. My captors—that we went to get a drink, and then we could call the police, organize a sting. I could wear a wire. I could?—
Declan’s voice echoes in my head.We have eyes everywhere.
I look behind me, scanning for evidence of the men. Do they have watchdogs here at the café? I glance at a nearby man, alone and reading a newspaper. He doesn’t look back at me. I take a sip of coffee to buy myself a second. “It’s just been a weird week,” I say, and then I try to laugh. My laugh sounds fake, even to me. I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear and pick up my cup. The ceramic is warm in my hands, grounding. Familiar. But nothing inside me feels grounded right now.
Alaina’s tongue prods the inside of her cheek. She grabs my hand and pulls it toward her, turning it up. She places one finger on my palm. “If you’re in trouble,” she whispers, “you don’t have to say anything. Just squeeze my finger.”
My hand twitches with the effort it takes not to do it. I pull my hand away and laugh again, softer this time. More honest sounding. “You watch too many true crime shows.”
“And you’re a terrible liar.” She’s right. I always have been. I used to think that was a good thing. A sign of moral high ground. Now it’s just dangerous.
I inhale deeply, smelling the ground after a rain and the smoke from people’s cigarettes and the bread baking. The sidewalk bustles with early morning commuters, strollers, people walkingdogs. Everyone going about their lives like the world isn’t cracking open beneath my feet. “I’m fine,” I say finally. “Really. Just tired.”
Alaina nods slowly, like she knows she won’t get more out of me today. “Okay. But if you were in danger, real danger?—”
The question punches the air out of my lungs. I look her in the eyes and say the only thing I can. The lie that needs to sound real. “I’m not.”
She doesn’t believe me. I see it in the way her jaw sets, in the crease between her brows.
She lets it go. For now. But the words sit between us like lead. I want to tell her everything. About Rian. About Declan. About the blood and the fear and the way I’ve started to crave the danger as much as I want to run from it.
But I can’t. So instead I smile, lift my coffee, and say, “Thanks for the caffeine. I needed this.”
Alaina gives me a long look and smiles with her lips pressed together. She doesn’t raise her drink back. She says, “Do you need me to keep the boys, Caroline?”
I lick my lips and glance away from her harsh eye contact. “I need them with me right now,” I tell her.
The closest I can get to an admission.
24
DECLAN
The movieEncantoplays loudly on the TV as Joshua sits in my lap, wide-eyed, two fingers in his mouth. Every time I let him go, he wanders over to the TV screen until his nose is practically touching it.
He keeps absentmindedly twirling my hair, something I can tell he does to his mom, but I push the spitty hand away every time I feel his fingers inching toward me.
I feel my father before I even hear him. The low growl of an engine, too smooth. The air in the room being sucked out, replaced with something icy and solid. The faint buzz of my hair standing on its end, reacting to static like I’m in the middle of a lightning storm. I exchange a glance with Rian, who suddenly looks younger, like a boy caught doing something stupid. Like the boy in his arms. Kellan’s already on his feet, pretending not to flinch.
We all know it. We can feel our father approaching like he’s the weather.
I have to strain my ears to ear the faint closing of a door. It’s not a slam, but the silence that follows is somehow louder. Suddenly, the room is full of tension, and I stand, scooping Joshua off my lap with my hands under his armpits. “Hey, bud, how about you go into?—”
