For the first half hour, I was utterly inconsolable. Reese just held me and let me cry. She tried to take Skylar from me, but I couldn't part with another child tonight. So I made myself calm down enough to let Skylar find some rest in my arms. And that's when I started blubbering.
"It's all my fault. If only I hadn't smarted back to her. Me and my fucking big trap. I pissed her off, and she took my baby. Oh, God. Pick is never going to forgive me." I closed my eyes and tried not to pass out. "What if she hurts Julian? What if she leaves him somewhere else and—"
"Shh." Reese stroked my hair. "Don't even go there, sweetie. Don't let yourself think about that."
"But—"
"No. It's late. You're exhausted. Your daughter is exhausted. Let's get you into bed."
She tried to draw me to my feet from the couch, but I resisted. "No, I can't." I shook my head emphatically. No way could I go back to the room I had shared with Pick for the past few months. "I can't stay here. Take me home."
Reese bit her lip. "Are you sure?"
I nodded. "He must hate me right now."
"I doubt he—"
"I lost his son, Reese." My chin bunched as a fresh wave of tears fell. "Please. Just take me home." Even though her apartment didn't feel like home at all. This was my home.
Reese granted me my wish, and drove me to her duplex. She pried a sleeping Skylar from my arms and laid her gently in the crib. Then she tugged me to my bed and lay down with me. I rested my cheek on her shoulder and stared straight ahead, numb and cold.
At some point, Mason came home from work. Appearing in the doorway, he gazed in at us.
"She okay?"
"Not yet." Reese waved him away and went back to stroking my hair.
"Do you think Pick will find him?" I asked, staring at the far wall.
"I think he'll keep looking until he does."
I closed my eyes. Yes, he would. That thought comforted me as I replayed my last few seconds with Julian. I hadn't even been able to kiss him goodbye. When the police officer finally agreed to let Tristy take him, she'd tried walking out the door without his car seat or his diaper bag. I'd stopped her and piled them on her, every diaper I had, and all the powdered formula he hadn't drank from in over a month, bottles, blankets, everything I could think of, hoping to overwhelm her into giving in and letting him stay. But the cops' presence spooked her too much. She'd strapped everything over her shoulders and ran.
I would never forget the last words she'd said before taking my son away.
After glancing me up and down with a degrading sneer, she'd hissed, "I just want you to know he'll never really love you. You're not his Tinker Bell."
I hadn't been able to resist snorting. "Oh, but I am his Tinker Bell."
But, was I really? I'd lost his son, and that probably destroyed any love he'd ever felt for me. How could he ever forgive me for this? I sure as hell wouldn't be able to forgive myself.
Chapter 27
PICK
Sore, drained, and scared out of my mind, I let myself back into my apartment in the wee hours of the morning. Without Fighter. I had looked in every crack house and heroine den I could think of, trying to find Tristy. I'd never been in tight with that crowd, but I'd stumbled across a few old acquaintances who knew her, and they'd given me a couple ideas where she might be. But every single lead was a dead end.
I had no idea where Julian was or what was happening to him. Thinking about him being hurt, scared, or alone messed with my head too much; I tried to keep those thoughts out, even though they kept crowding back in and nearly sending me into a panic.
I contacted every hospital, asking for either Tristy or him. I'd called every old friend of hers I could think of, asking them to pass along a message. But not even fucking Quick Shot had seen her in the last twenty-four hours.
I'd bombarded her Facebook page. I'd driven around for hours, and even stopped by the police station. I didn't know what else to try. I figured the next move was Tristy's, but I couldn't accept that. I couldn't wait for her to grow tired of him again. She probably wouldn't last long, not by herself like she was. She'd bring him back. Eventually. But even five minutes away from him was too excruciatingly long for me.
God, this hurt.
Needing my Tinker Bell to help ease my broken heart, I stumbled back to my bedroom only to find it empty.
"Oh . . . fuck."
She'd been hysterical, and I hadn't comforted her. Recalling the way she'd begged me to forgive her ripped through my chest. But I'd told her it was okay, hadn't I? Shit, I couldn't remember what I'd said. I'd been too frantic to find my boy. One thing I knew, though, was that I couldn't sleep in my bed without her.