“You can’t do this,” she howls.
“It’s done. If Rhett can’t handle him, he’ll bring him here where he’ll be safe.”
She yanks at my hold and I let go. She stumbles back a few steps.
“Safe?” she spits.
“Yes, safe. You need help. You need to get your shit together,” I say as calmly as I can.
Her mood changes yet again to something I’m quite used to.
“Okay,” she says, her eyes darting about as she thinks of a way out of this. “Aaron and I can move in and we can be a family.”
“No,” I say firmly.
She transforms again. “What? Is this about her? You’re going to choose her over Aaron.”
I shake my head. “No, but I am choosing her over you.”
“Fuck you,” she seethes with mounting rage.
“This is what I’m talking about. This isn’t about you. This is about your son. And all you can think about is how you can work this to your advantage.”
I hook my thumbs in the loops of my jeans.
“You don’t know how hard it is.”
I give her an expression which borders on mockery. “How soon you forget I was there for the middle of the night diaper changes, feedings, the works.”
There had been some nights I had him alone because Calli’s need for self-destructiveness won out over her duties as a mother.
“You think you’re going to play house with her and my son?”
I hold her gaze. “I don’t think that at all. What I know is that your son would be lucky to have Olivia. I know she would give up her leg, arm, her beauty, or anything to make sure a child was well taken care of.”
Her eyes narrow. “You think you know women.”
“No, but I know her. Like when she smiles she has the tiniest dimple to the left of her mouth. I know she wouldn’t hurt a fly or a spider. When she finds one in her apartment—”
“She calls you to kill it.”
“No. She has me catch it and set it free outside.”
Calli rolls her eyes. “She sounds boring.”
“Then I’m in love with boring. I want to spend the rest of my life with boring.”
“She’s not your type.”
“She’s exactly my type.” And just like that, I make a decision. “And I’ll do my damnedest to make her happy.”
She laughs, but it’s bitter. “You couldn’t make me happy.”
“I couldn’t. I’ll admit that. But you also have to admit you didn’t want to be happy. You wanted to be angry.”
“You don’t know what I’ve been through.”
I agree. “I don’t. But you had a choice. You could have gotten help and gone to the police. You could have been honest with me. But you chose your path.”
“Easy for you to fucking say. Living in a big house with servants.”
I purse my lips and open my hands. “I don’t live there anymore. I gave it all up for you.”
That isn’t exactly true. She’d been my excuse to follow my dreams.
“And you’re better for it.”
“I am.”
She was the one who introduced me to my mentor who’d wanted to retire. I worked my ass off to make enough money to buy him out when he was ready.
Her hands flap in the air once before slapping at her sides. “So that’s it.”
“It doesn’t have to be. Let us take care of Aaron while we get you the help you need.”
She half-laughs, though her face looks close to tears.
“Who’s we? You and Rhett. He doesn’t give a shit.”
“How would you know when you’ve never given him the chance.”
She’s silent for a long moment.
“And then what? I get out and I have to go back to Mom’s or the streets and he’ll find me again.”
I walk over and take her hand. “Or you can go to the cops.”
“And what? Give them evidence that can put me in jail?”
I nod. “You can probably make a deal. Rhett’s a lawyer. He can help.”
“And become a rat. You have no fucking clue.”
She moves toward the door.
“I don’t. But I also know you’re going to get Aaron or yourself killed.”
Her hand is on the knob. “What Aaron? You’ve taken everything from me, including him. No Aaron, no you. What else do I have left?”
It’s the kind of thing that would have had me running after her out of guilt. But this time I let her go and dial her mom.
When she picks up, she says, “He’s not here,” and immediately hangs up.
I text Rhett because I’m not sure he’ll answer my call. And while I wait for his reply, I go down the hall to Olivia’s and knock.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Olivia
Corey opens the door, and everything I’d been feeling spews out of me all over his shoes. Then everything goes black.
I wake with a cool towel on my head.
“Amelia,” I say.
“There you are. We were worried about you.”
I look around, getting my bearings. I’m no longer on the front stoop, but in her guest bedroom.