“Just think about what would have happened if you hadn’t found them. These alleys aren’t exactly known for speaking loudly. They keep secrets. That kid has a life because of you.”
“And no mother,” I grumble. “Thanks for the ride. I’ll get cleaned up and meet you over at the hospital, okay? I won’t take long.”
“Sure thing.”
I climb into my truck next and press my head against the seat. What the fuck have I gotten myself into? Not wanting to go back to the clubhouse just yet, I grab the bag of extra clothes I keep in the backseat and head to the small motel at the end of the street, grabbing a room for the night.
What’s even weirder is that the guy doesn’t even question why I’m covered in blood and in my briefs.
I guess it’s just another day for him.
“Room 211,” he says without looking up from the computer, sliding me a key.
I head outside without another word. 211 is on the second floor. I climb up the cheap concrete steps, not caring about the cracks and shit.
The room is pretty basic. Bed. TV. Faint scent of smoke. And bad carpet. I head straight for the bathroom. I kick off my briefs and don’t even wait for the water to turn hot before I step in. I let my head hang under the spray, watching the red water swirls go down the drain.
Maybe I’ve been gone too long and I can’t handle this job anymore. The cruelty of it, the ugliness, the hatred. I used to want to stop it all. I used to want to be a badass, saving the world—or at least saving innocent people like Morgan Lillard. I still do, but I don’t know how I can when I can’t even cut a baby’s cord.
I want that moment to remain Amber’s. It’s one of the only firsts I had with her.
After hating myself a little more, I wash, dry off, and get dressed. Not even a half-hour later and I’m out the door and heading to the hospital to talk to the parents about their daughter.
The ride is a blur and comes to an end quicker than I expected as I pull into the parking lot. I see Utah and Morgan’s parents waiting outside the emergency room and of course, they are devastated.
“Mr. and Mrs. Lillard,” I greet them as I powerwalk down the sidewalk.
“They didn’t want to hear it from me,” Utah says.
“Is she okay? Is that why we are here?” Mrs. Lillard asks, sounding hopeful through her stuffy nose.
“It’s a boy,” I tell them. “He is alive and in the hospital now.” But the seriousness in my voice prevents any celebration.
“What about Morgan?” asks Mr. Lillard.
I take a deep breath. Here goes.
“Today, when I was looking for your daughter, I found blood. I followed the blood and it led me to an alleyway. I won’t get into details because I want to spare you of that, but I’m sorry.”
Both of them look up at me with tears brimming in their eyes. They already know what I’m going to say, but I have to say it anyway.
“I found Morgan’s body there in that alley. I believe she was murdered.”
A painful roar leaves Mrs. Lillard’s chest, a sound so similar to the one I made so many years ago. I understand her pain more than she will ever know. And one day, when it all becomes too much, when the pain becomes too much to bear, she’ll lock it away too.
No one ever really gets over the pain of grief, they just learn to live with it.
“I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” Mr. Lillard whispers through tears. “If you wouldn’t have found her, he might not be alive. You listened to us when no one else would.”
“Sure thing. And I need you to know something, she was planning on giving the baby up for adoption. That’s who Mr. Zachary was. He’s from the adoption center.”
“Well, no one is getting our grandbaby. He’s all we have left of her. Oh god, she’s gone.” Mrs. Lillard sits down, losing her strength to stand. “She’s gone.”
Mr. Lillard reaches over and pulls her into a hug, and the two of them sob into each other.
“Let me know if there is anything else I can do,” I say before I turn around and walk away, feeling like the worst man in the world for dropping that news on them and then just leaving. What else can I do? Everything they need now is in that hospital.
I don’t even have the strength to head to the clubhouse. I need my own space. I need to clear my head and that’s when I come up with the idea that I’ll rent the same room in the motel when I have cases.
Is this what I really want? Do I really want to feel like shit and deliver bad news after bad news? Most cases will end badly, but there might be one that won’t. One. It could be years from now. Sure, the baby is okay, but what’s the kid going to be like without his mother?
The Lillards are sweet, but they are older. They might not be able to keep up.
I get back to the motel and drag my feet up the steps and take a left, heading to my room. I kick the door shut, lock the chain across, and throw myself on the bed.
I have to do this, though. I have to help people, like I always wanted to when I was in law enforcement. It’s my calling. And like the Lillards said, if I didn’t take a chance on them, no one else would have. It would have been too late for that baby two days from now.
Exhaling, I snatch the pillow to my left and shove it over my face, screaming as long and as loud as I can.
And when I’m done, when I take my next breath, when I finally relax… like a fucking idiot, I think of her.
Damn it, hope is such a dangerous thing to want to have.
Badge didn’t come home last night and like the stupid girl I am with a schoolgirl crush, I was excited to give him his gift. I put on a little makeup, casually slipped on my new nightgown, and waited.
And like a damn fool, I got my hopes up.
“You seem sad.” Sarah sits down on the couch with Hendrix in a sling.
So many slings. So many babies in this household and there are more coming. Mars and Sunnie are expecting triplets and Daphne is pregnant.
I’d be okay if I didn’t get pregnant again for a while. I want to focus on Faith, and I don’t know if I want to have another baby. I wasn’t ready for Faith, but I guess no one is ever ready for a child. I don’t want to sound ungrateful, I’m not. I love her more than life itself, but I hate how she was conceived. I can never change the place it happened or the pressure I felt to perform.
“I’m not sad,” I finally reply.
“Right. Right.” She doesn’t believe me for a second. “You look good. That hair color is amazing on you. It really brings out your eyes.” Without taking her attention off me, she snaps her fingers behind her. “Don’t even think about it, Skirt.”
I turn my head see Skirt trying to sneak to the oven where a freshly made apple pie is sitting on the stove to cool.
“But Sarah, come on,” he begs. “It smells so good. How can ye deny me?”
“Walk away. It isn’t ready.”
A snicker from somewhere has me looking over my shoulders and peering around the kitchen, but I didn’t laugh. Neither did Sarah.
“That’s just Tongue. He’s in the corner,” Sarah explains.
“You gave yourself away!” Porter, I think is his name, jumps from another corner. “You laughed. I win!”