He was wearing…“Oh, dear God.”
“Everything all right?” Tevin asked. He looked out the window, too, and saw the SEAL, who was wearing his Naval Officer uniform—the short-sleeved sleek white version, rows upon rows of colorful ribbons on his broad chest. “That’s the neighbor you’re helping? Go, Moms.”
“It’s not like that,” Shay said. “Not even remotely.”
“Well, why not?” Tevin looked so much like his father, it was sometimes startling. That quicksilver smile, those adorable dimples and laughing brown eyes, that same warm umber tone to his perfect skin…But when he walked and talked, Tevin was absolutely his own sweet self. Dynamic, creative, original, sensitive, caring…Her baby boy, in a nearly grown man’s body.
“Well, he’s younger than I am, for one thing,” Shay said.
T looked out the window again. “Not by that much,” he countered. “Tiffany’s, like, fifteen years younger than Dad. Nobody’s got problems with that.”
He had a point. Even Shayla liked Carter’s latest live-in girlfriend. Tiffany might have been young, but she was smart, funny, open, and she genuinely cared about the boys.
Tevin grinned. “What’s that old movie you like to watch whenever you get the flu?”
Shayla knew exactly the movie to which her cinema-loving son was referring, but she pretended not to. “The Bodyguard? Whitney Houston? I-eee-I! Will always love—”
“Yeah, nah-no, come on, you know what I mean—the other one, with what’s-his-name from Pretty Woman.”
“Richard Gere,” she said. “Oh, you mean An Officer and a Gentleman.”
“That’s the one. Where Richard Gere literally carries Debra Winger away from her humdrum factory-worker life and she wears his hat at a jaunty and triumphant angle.” Only Tevin would know Debra Winger by name. He aimed his broad grin at Shayla and wiggled his eyebrows for emphasis. “Maybe, if you play it right, he’ll let you try on his hat.”
“It’s called a cover,” Shay told him as she dug her car keys out of her purse and put them on the kitchen counter. “And really, we’re just friends.”
“Well, you have my permission to—”
She interrupted him. “Wake your brother up soon. Don’t be late for school.”
“And your subtext, there, is ignoring you,” Tevin sang the last words.
“I gotta go,” Shayla said. “And really, Tev. I’m just trying to help the nice man find his daughter. So ask around at school. See what you can find out about this Fiona girl, too, okay? And don’t forget to wake up Frank. He’s been sleeping through his alarm lately—”
“I’m awake, I’m awake.” Frank emerged from his bedroom, still sleepy-eyed, his hair bed-headed into an impressive faux-hawk. Her second baby, still in a skinny child’s body—but probably not for long. “Whoa, you’re dressed! I mean, in real clothes.”
He hugged her and his head still fit beneath her chin, so Shay took a moment to enjoy that. “As opposed to those fake clothes I wear the rest of the time?” she asked in mock indignation as he slipped back out of her arms.
But Frank was right. She, too, had dressed for this meeting in something other than her usual sweats or jeans. She’d even put on a little makeup. Still, she’d be invisible walking in with the gleaming lieutenant. And that was fine. Her job here was to help him get the info he needed to find Maddie—not to be noticed.
“Mom’s going over to the school this morning with the neighborhood Navy SEAL,” Tevin told his little brother, whose eyes widened, too, as he caught sight of Peter in his uniform. “The one whose daughter ran away.”
“Maggie?” Frank asked as he stood on his toes to get a box of cornflakes out of the cabinet in the kitchen.
“Maddie. Brah, you said she’s in your English class. How do you not know her name?”
“She never says anything,” Frank protested. “And that’s when she bothers to show up. Why should I learn her name when she doesn’t—”
“You learn her name, because she’s a human being who lives across the street, and is in your English class,” Tevin lectured his brother for Shayla.
“She hangs out with that nasty girl,” Frank argued as he poured himself a large bowl. “I keep my head down and don’t go near that.”
“The nasty girl—Fiona—is a person, too,” Shay pointed out. “Not a that.”
Frank was quick on his already-size-thirteen feet. “The that I was referring to was the cosmic disturbance, not the crazy person creating it.”
“Still, it sounds disrespectful, so spell it all the way out,” Shayla said. “I keep my head down and don’t go near that cosmic disturbance.”
“Yes, Mother,” Frank droned. He glanced at his brother. “Morning’s complete when Moms gives me a line-reading of my own dialogue.”
“Good communication is the key to everything,” Shayla pointed out.
“And scene,” Tevin teased before turning back to Frank. “You wouldn’t happen to know Fiona McNasty’s last name? Something Italian American…? I keep thinking Fiona Fiona, but that couldn’t be it.”
“Nope,” Frank said. “Sorry.”
Last night, Tevin had told Shayla that Maddie definitely hung out at school with a girl named Fiona. He didn’t know her last name, but he called her “a psycho freak-show,” which was alarming since Tev tended to get along with everyone. Frank’s nasty was expected from a child who’d been badly bullied in middle school. He was far more discerning when it came to choosing friends.
Shay’s phone vibrated and chirped its text alert. She pulled it out of her pocket, expecting it to be a nudge from Peter. But it wasn’t. It was…
Maddie!
still safe
Before Shayla had left last night, she’d emailed Maddie a copy of what she called “The Peter/Lisa Meet-Cute.” Then she’d texted the girl, letting her know about the sent email while backpedaling furiously with a Please don’t block me, I’m a friend of your father’s, I won’t text you unless it’s important, please just let me know that you’re currently safe so he can try to sleep tonight message. And sure enough, Maddie had texted back a terse still safe then, too.
Somehow the girl managed to sound surly in her text—maybe it was her lack of capital letters or punctuation. Still, this morning’s message had come unprompted, which was huge.
TY, Shayla texted back—a short and simple thank you. And as tempted as she might be to remind Maddie that she was here if the girl needed help of any kind, she knew not to push, so she ended it there.
“Ask your friends about Maddie,” she reminded the boys as she headed for the door. “And about Fiona, too.” And then she said what she always said, whenever they went their separate ways. “Be safe out there in that crazy world. Don’t be a hashtag. I love you.”
“Love you, love you, love you, too!” They sang their response to her in perfect harmony—one of the many little melodies their father had taught them back when they were hardly more than babies—which left her smiling as she went out into the cool morning air.