I swallow hard. “She had to go, baby.”
Her lower lip trembles and she sits up, her dolls forgotten. “Tati wouldn’t go. Tati always comes.”
Goddammit. “Come on.” I grab her little hand, haul her to her feet. “Let’s go, Mary.”
“I want Tati,” Mary sobs, digging in her heels, big fat tears tracking down her cheeks. “Tati.”
Oh for chrissakes. I want her, too, I’m dying a little inside every time I realize she won’t be coming back, I want to call and apologize and beg and go to my knees to have her come back, but Cole… Right now I need to find Cole.
And I’m not letting my other kid home alone even if she’s having a total fucking meltdown.
My patience is on a short leash, the urgent need to find him driving me through the panic. So I swoop Mary up in my arms, letting her kick at me and slap at me with her small hands as I march out of the house once more, trying to think over her wailing about where Cole might have gone.
Stepping off the porch, I start down the path to the street, when I notice someone standing there.
“Matt?” Octavia looks pale, her dark hair messy. “Can we talk for a minute?”
She’s back. She’s here. I drink her in like she’s my last drop of water.
Gathering my wits, I stride over to her. “Tay.”
“Tati!” Mary wiggles in my arms, sniffling and reaching for Octavia. “You didn’t go.”
Octavia turns wide eyes on me, and I can’t help noticing they’re red-rimmed. “Where’s Cole?” And then, “What’s wrong?”
How can she read me so easily when I’m the moodiest, grumpiest guy on earth?
“Cole is missing,” I tell her. “We’ve got to find him.”
Right the hell now.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Octavia
A police car arrives, lights flashing, as we hurry up and down the street, calling Cole’s name. Panic gives me energy, despite a night spent tossing and turning and crying, and despite how hard he tries to hide it, I see in Matt’s face just how scared he is.
I came back to tell him I can’t work for him anymore. Yeah, I begged for this job. Yeah, I need the money, but not after last night. No matter how I love his kids, how I get all weak-kneed and star-eyed around him… I can’t.
He kind of broke me last night. Maybe I should have told him I hadn’t done it before. But it’s not like we sat down to talk before. It just happened.
And I didn’t regret it. Not until he told me to get dressed and go, without waiting to see if I made it out of the house. He’s not a beast.
He’s an asshole.
Gigi’s words from last night are still ringing in my head. You’re not going back to that house, to that guy, she’d said. He treated you like trash. Like a whore. Used you and dismissed you.
You’re not going back to Matt Hansen, Tati.
Yet here I am.
When I arrived home, she’d seen me. After I did the walk of shame from Matt’s house to the bus stop, my mouth burning from his kisses, the ache between my legs too much—not because it was that bad, but because it reminded me how good it felt to have him inside him, to have him hold me and touch me…
That made the pain worse.
Now my pain, my disappointment and regret have been buried under a thick layer of icy fear. None of all this is Cole’s fault. We have to find that sweet little boy before anything bad happens to him.
The thought alone is unbearable.
“Any sign of him?” the cop asks us, a pretty young woman with a ponytail and a sharp gaze. “Are you sure he’s not hiding in the house? Kids do that sometimes. Think it’s funny.”
“Her son does it,” the other cop says with a nod at her. Also young, staring at her like she hung the moon.
Oooh, cops in love.
“He’s not in the house,” Matt grinds out. In the bright light of day, the bruises on his face look livid.
I shift Mary in my arms. She’s heavy.
Matt reaches for her, and she doesn’t seem to mind. In the last moment, though, she turns to me and says in her cute little voice, “You won’t go, Tati?”
“I won’t,” I promise.
Not until we find Cole, anyway. After that, well… it’s anybody’s guess what will happen.
“Stay calm,” the cop says, her ponytail swinging as she takes in the narrow street and sleepy houses. “You called us quickly. He can’t be far.”
Matt mutters something under his breath and starts down the street with Mary in his arms.
“Mr. Hansen!” the other cop calls, but Matt doesn’t even slow down. “Where’s the mother?”
“She’s not here,” I tell them. “She passed years ago.”
The cop’s face softens. “I’m going with Mr. Hansen. You go with Julie, check the other side.”
And he sets out without waiting for acknowledgment.
Maybe that’s how they train you to act in the police academy? In any case, Julie nods at me, and we start down the other side of the street.
“Is there any place he likes visiting?” Julie asks me, her strides so big I have to jog to keep up with her. “A playground? A neighbor’s kids he likes?”
I shake my head. “Not that I know of. We always stayed indoors. He likes playing with his sister. They’ve only moved here recently.”
“I see.” I fall silent, hurrying after the policewoman, looking into yards and behind picket fences. Then I can’t help but ask, “I didn’t expect the police to show up to help look for Cole. Not that… you don’t care, just… You know. He hasn’t been missing long.”
And that word—missing—makes my throat clog and my heart ache.
“After the threatening messages Mr. Hansen received, we thought it important to make sure the little boy is safe.”
I think of how her partner mentioned her son, and I wonder if that’s the only reason.
Suddenly the theme of Saturday night fever—“Stayin’ Alive”—breaks the quiet. I’m so wired up on adrenaline it takes me a moment to realize it’s a ringtone.
By then, Julie is reaching into her back pocket. She lifts an ancient cell phone and puts it to her ear.
“Suarez,” she says, frowning at the fence she has just looked over, hazel eyes narrowed. Then her brows lift. “Coolio!”
Coolio? It sounds strange coming from her, but then she turns to me, gives me a thumbs up, and I stop caring about her word choices.
“Cole?” I ask, my voice strangled. “They found him?”
“He’s with his dad. Let’s go.”
She doesn’t have to say it twice.
The most beautiful sighs greets me when we approach the house again.
Matt is kneeling on the sidewalk, both his kids in his arms. I swear, my heart cracks right down the middle. It’s a beautiful pain. This is a side of him he rarely shows, even with his kids. He loves them so much… I wish he’d open up more, show them how it could be.
Show me.
But that’s a stupid thought, one I should shut off as quickly as possible.
Because, my God, no matter how angry I am at him and how sad at his rejection, how hard I’ve fought it, I’m falling for Matt Hansen—and that’s a disaster in the making.