Page 64 of Down Knot Out
Holden doesn’t answer. He just rises and dumps his pieces of glass into the trash bin, the slope of his shoulders set in defeat.
“Holden, I?—”
“I need a minute,” he says, his back still to me.
“Okay.” I give him another hug. “But please, take it easy. I’m worried about you.”
His mouth opens as if to speak, but then he closes it.
“She’s safe, and she’ll be home soon,” I say, notwanting to leave when he appears about ready to break down.
“Yeah.” He flips on the mixer to drown out further conversation.
I leave him in the kitchen and head for Quinn. She has four more drawings now, scattered across the floor in front of the fireplace.
Her excitement bubbles over as I step back into the room, her energy unfazed by my scolding of minutes ago.
“It’s a secret message!” Quinn tells me as I sink down beside her on the hardwood floor. “You have to crack the code.”
“I thought you were making a drawing for Uncle Holden.”
“I did!” She grabs the one she was working on when I went into the kitchen, which appears to be her and Holden rolling out cookies. “But I also made this special one for you.” She throws her arms around my neck, squeezing so tight my breath catches. “Because you’re the best Uncle ever, so please don’t be mad at me anymore.”
Fuck. My eyes sting as I wrap her in a bear hug. “I’m not mad, princess.”
“Promise?” she asks into my shoulder.
“Promise.” My throat thickens with emotions, and I set her back from me. “Now, while I decipherthis code, go give Uncle Holden his drawing. He needs his day brightened by your smile.”
She snatches the other drawing off the floor and races toward the kitchen.
“No running,” I twist to yell after her. “And go through the door slowly!”
She skids to a stop at the two-way door and pushes it open slowly. A moment later, her bright chatter fills the air, telling Holden about the drawing and asking if she can help with the new batch of muffins.
Good. If Holden won’t accept my offer of company, then he can be saddled with Quinn’s enthusiastic attention. He won’t have the heart to send her away, too.
I grab my phone, checking my messages again. Why isn’t Chloe responding?
About to break down and call her to give me peace of mind, my phone rings in my hand.
For a wild, aching second, I think it’s Chloe calling to say that everything’s fine, that they’re on their way back, and that she loves me.
But it’s not her name on the screen.
Sadie – Rehab Center flashes in bold letters, and my stomach drops.
I look toward where Quinn vanished. Not wanting her to come back and catch theconversation, I slip outside, pulling the front door shut behind me just enough to muffle the sound.
For a moment, I consider letting it go to voicemail. I don’t need more stress added to my day. But that will only delay the inevitable.
“Blake Harris,” I answer.
“Mr. Harris, this is Dana Griggs calling from the Elmwood Recovery Program,” comes the clinical reply. “I’m reaching out to inform you that your sister, Sadie Patel, has been cleared for early release from residential treatment as of this morning.”
I grind my teeth. This has our father written all over it. “That wasn’t supposed to happen for another month.”
“She’s shown consistent progress and met the adjusted benchmarks set by her treatment plan. As part of her reintegration, she’s requested a supervised visit with her daughter.”
