Crime and Periodicals: Green Valley Library Book #2 Page 9

  He lurched forward and grabbed my upper arms to shake me, so hard I felt like a bobblehead doll. “Who do you think you are, huh? You dumb fucking bitch. Harry is mine. They’re all mine.” He stared daggers at me. I would probably have bruises later from the way his fingers dug into my arms.

  I steadied my head. “Let go of me,” I hissed and tried to wiggle out of his grasp.

  He’d never put his hands on me or Cora or any of us before. He’d also never talked to me like this, ever. It shocked me, but I was not too shocked to remember the self-defense training my father suggested I take at the community center last year. I raised my arms straight up and brought them down hard, loosening his grip on me. I stepped back.

  “Leave me alone,” I managed to say. I couldn’t seem to catch my breath.

  I was shy. I could get nervous and freak out, but that didn’t mean I was a pushover. And if it involved my family—watch out. I would do anything for my family, especially Harry. He needed me the most.

  He lunged forward to—I didn’t know what he would do, but I was not about to take any crap from him.

  I pushed him in the chest, hard. “Go away, Michael.”

  He stumbled back a few steps, looking first shocked, then pissed.

  I was not kidding myself. If Michael really wanted to hurt me, he could. I got in a lucky shot and surprised him.

  “What the hell has gotten into you, Sabrina?” he yelled and shoved me back. My bottom hit the salad bin. I almost fell in, but I managed to throw my hands out and catch the edge in time.

  “Stay away from me!” I shouted and pushed myself up. I sidestepped the salad bin and backed up.

  Michael followed me until I was up against the shelves with nowhere to go. He stood there looming over me, the anger in his eyes scaring me. He didn’t look right; he was shaky. His eyes were red-rimmed and glassy, the darkness beneath them stood out against his pale face.

  Michael whirled at the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps.

  “Sabrina!” It was Wyatt with Jackson. Both in uniform, rushing up the aisle. “Are you okay?” Wyatt asked, inserting himself between Michael and me.

  “Yes, I’m okay,” my voice trembled. I hated how weak it sounded.

  Michael turned and started to walk away.

  “Don’t make me chase you,” Wyatt growled. My eyes darted to Wyatt. He was so tall and broad as he stood there; he looked like an immovable force. Like he could just glare Michael into submission. It calmed me down. He wouldn’t let Michael hurt me.

  Jackson moved to block Michael’s path from behind and prevent him from leaving.

  I stood there and tried to catch my breath and calm my racing heart.

  Michael froze then turned back to face Wyatt. “We’re family, Sabrina and me. I used to be her brother-in-law,” he explained with a phony smile. “We had a disagreement about the kids is all.”

  “Is that true? Was it just a disagreement?” Wyatt asked me.

  I shook my head—too freaked out to speak.

  “Did he hurt you, touch you, threaten you?” Jackson asked me as he stepped closer to Michael. Jackson was scary too. I’d never noticed what a badass he was. I guess all the Stephen King talk at the library made me see him as a book buddy, not a hot sheriff. Which was good. Because if I had seen him as a hot sheriff, I would have never been able to talk to him at all.

  I nodded. “He shook me. I almost fell into the salad,” I whispered.

  “Adams, you’re under arrest,” Jackson said and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

  “She pushed me—arrest her too!” Michael shouted.

  “Sabrina pushed you?” Jackson laughed. “Yeah, okay. We’ll talk about that at the station. Would you like your regular holding cell, Adams?” Jackson said as he led Michael away. He turned back to Wyatt. “Finish dinner, and take care of her. I got this.”

  I heard Jackson read Michael his rights as they headed to the exit. I stood frozen in place and watched them go.

  “Hey, it’s okay now,” Wyatt said and took my hand.

  I held on and took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

  “You’re shaking.” He pulled me into a hug and held me. I clutched at his shirt and leaned against him for a second. He felt safe, warm, and strong.

  “Better?” he whispered in my ear.

  I nodded. I was all out of words and out of my mind with worry for the kids.

  “Come on, I’ll walk with you while you get what you need.”

  “Thank you,” I murmured.

  “You’re welcome, darlin’. Is that yours?” He gestured to my buggy with my purse still in it.

  “Yes. I only need a couple of things. Thank you for staying with me.”

  “My pleasure.” He reached up and brushed a strand of hair out of my face.

  Oh my…

  Heat flooded my body, shoving a bit of the fear out. I blindly reached for a bag of salad from the bin and tossed it into my buggy.

  “I heard him yell at you. Does he bother you often?”

  “No, he’s never acted like that before. And it’s been months since I’ve even seen him in town.”

  “You let us know if he does it again later, okay?” We passed the bakery and headed toward the snack aisle.

  “I will.” I grabbed a box of Goldfish crackers and tossed it into the buggy.

  “My daughters love those,” he remarked.

  “A few years ago, Harry would eat nothing but these crackers. He’s come a long way.”

  “He’s a cute kid. Is Michael his father?”

  “Unfortunately. But my father has custody for now. My father also has custody of Weston and Ruby, my other nephew and niece.” I reached for a box of Twinkies off the display. I might need those later. They paired well with rosé, and this would definitely be a wine night.

  “Twinkies, huh? My favorite.” His sideways smile was adorable and sexy at the same time. The odd combination drew me in—as well as scared the crap out of me.

  “I can’t quit them, even if they are completely artificial,” I confessed.

  “Same.” He grinned and reached out to tug lightly on a curl that had swooped over my shoulder. “You take care of him, don’t you?”

  “Harry? Yeah, since he was born.”

  “I never knew your sister. And I didn’t realize you were one of Doc Logan’s daughters until after I went back to the station, the day I met you.”

  “I’m easy to overlook,” I murmured.

  He raised an eyebrow. “No, Sabrina, you are not. You had to be hiding out somewhere. And once I found you, I asked you out. It didn’t take me long now, did it?”

  I blushed. “Oh, yeah. Um, are you on duty?”

  “I’m on my break. We stopped here to get dinner and I’m glad we did. Because here you are.” He reached over and touched my nose with his index finger.

  “Boop,” I said. I felt my cheeks heat as a massive blush rose up my neck to cover my face.

  “Boop?” He chuckled.

  “You booped my nose,” I explained.

  “I couldn’t help myself. You have a cute nose. I love your little freckles.” His gorgeous brown eyes were in full twinkle.

  My eyes widened as I took in his smiling face. “Thank you,” I said. I was in imminent danger of a deep swoon. I gripped the handle of my buggy for support. “And I love your dimple. I want to climb inside of it and have a tea party.” What the heck did I just say?

  “What?” His chuckle had disappeared. It had turned into a full-blown, glorious, belly laugh. “I’ve never heard that one before. But I’ll have a tea party with you any day, darlin’.”

  “Well, okay. Then I’ll shop for tiny cups.”

  “You do that. Then let me know when, and I’ll bring the tiny sandwiches.”

  I was laughing with him and not dying of an incendiary blush. This was awesome and unexpected. I like him.

  “I like you,” I said. What is wrong with me? I need some freaking guile.

  “I like you too, Sabrina,
” he said and rested his hand next to mine on the buggy. Then again, maybe guileless is the way to go.

  I grinned at him.

  He grinned back.

  We had already stopped walking, but now we were just standing there, staring into each other’s eyes—grinning together next to the huge tower of stacked Dr. Pepper, next to the deli.

  “Hey, Wyatt.”

  We both jumped and laughed.

  The deli clerk who broke our moment was standing behind the counter waving Wyatt’s sandwich in the air. “I have your call-in order ready,” he said.

  “Thanks, I’ll pay up front.” Wyatt turned and grabbed his sandwich.

  “You’re welcome. Hey, Sabrina, are you okay? I heard Michael yellin’ at you. I was about to run over and help, then I heard Wyatt and Jackson putting the smack down on him and just stayed put.”

  I looked at his concerned face. “I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”

  He grinned at Wyatt. “Good thing y’all showed up. I haven’t kicked any ass since way back in high school.”

  Wyatt laughed. “I’ll see you tomorrow, man. Take it easy.”

  He waved to us as we walked away.

  “Do you need anything else?” Wyatt asked me as we walked.

  “No, I have everything.”

  We headed to the front of the store to pay. As we approached, Sara Stokes waved us over to her lane. From what I had heard, her husband was almost as big a jerk as Michael. “Sabrina! Are you okay? I heard the scuffle with Michael—I had the nine and the one already dialed on the telephone, but Wyatt and Jackson showed up before I finished callin’. Hey, Wyatt—or should I call you Piggly Wiggly Superman.” She laughed.

  Wyatt shot a quick glance at me then shook his head. “No way, Sara. Please don’t get that started.” He laughed it off, but I could tell he was embarrassed.

  I placed my items on the counter, and Sara grinned at me as she rang me up. I had not realized she knew who I was. But I probably should have. This was Green Valley; if I knew about her a-hole husband, she was sure to know about my a-hole ex-brother-in-law. Small towns and all that… “Uh, thank you,” I said with a small smile.

  “You’re welcome, Sabrina,” she answered. Ruby was right—I was not as invisible as I had thought. Deep down I knew it was true already. But acknowledging it was another story. I found the idea of being known around town both oddly pleasant as well as terrifying. I shoved it out of my mind to ponder later. Or not.

  After my stuff was all bagged up and we were ready to leave I made sure to look at her as I thanked her instead of just mumbling it to my purse. And I smiled and said goodbye just to show myself I could.

  Wyatt took my bag and carried it for me as he walked me to my Jeep.

  “Feeling better?” he asked.

  “Yes. Thank you.” I smiled up at his gorgeous face and felt the urge to kiss him. Instead I opened my back door so he could put my bags inside.

  “Can you tell me what happened between you and Michael?”

  I explained what had happened before he showed up with Jackson.

  “I’ll put it in the report. We’ll call you if there are any further questions.”

  “Okay.”

  He opened my door and gestured for me to climb inside. “I want you to lock up your Jeep and go straight home. Is your father going to be there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good, tell him what happened.”

  “I will, Wyatt.”

  “I’ll call you tonight. Would that be okay?”

  Yay! Yes!

  “Okay, I’d like that,” I murmured.

  “Good. Until tonight, darlin’.” He booped my nose, shut my door for me with a big grin, and turned away.

  I watched him walk to his patrol car and get inside. He waved to me before he drove off.

  I backed out of my space and turned on to the road to home.

  It wasn’t until I pulled up to the garage that I realized I forgot the dang Dr. Pepper again.

  Chapter Eleven

  Wyatt

  “We’re home,” I said softly as I pulled into the garage. We’d had dinner at my parents’ house. My father was hard at work, trying to land a big project in town, or so my mother said—he hadn’t joined us like he was supposed to, much to her consternation.

  “Daddy, is Mommy going to call us tonight?” Mel yawned from her booster seat in the back.

  Shit.

  I had tried calling Isabelle several times today, like I did every day. Her phone number no longer worked. That was a big, fat clue to the status of my ex-wife’s relationship with my girls if I ever had one.

  Mak got out of the car and slammed her door. She stomped to the door that led inside the house and stood there with her foot tapping and an angry look on her face.

  “She’s not going to call us, Mel. She doesn’t want us anymore!” Mak shouted before I could answer.

  “She doesn’t want us anymore?” Fat tears filled Mel’s eyes and spilled down her cheeks.

  “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t call her today. Her phone number wouldn’t work. I don’t think she’ll be calling anymore. It will be just you girls and me from now on.” It was better to get this done—like ripping off a Band-Aid—then we could heal.

  Mak gasped and turned around to stare at me. She was angry with Isabelle before. But I was afraid that I’d just broken her heart.

  I pulled Mel out of her booster seat and held her against my chest. She wrapped her tiny arms around my neck and sobbed. I headed for the door and unlocked it to go inside.

  “Come on, ladybug,” I said to Mak and took her hand.

  I expected her to pull away, but she didn’t.

  “I want my mommy,” Mel cried into my shoulder. Her body shook as her arms tightened around my neck.

  “I know, honey. I know. We’ll be okay, shh…”

  I glanced down at Mak. She was looking away from me, but I saw her wiping her cheeks with her free hand.

  Damn you, Isabelle.

  We crossed through the entryway to the hall. Princess Buttercup stretched in the window then hopped down to follow us.

  I flipped on the hall light and headed for my bedroom. I sat on the edge of the bed. Mel curled up against my chest like she used to do when she was a baby. I scooted to the middle of the mattress, my back against the headboard. I stretched out my legs, shifted Mel to one side, and held my other arm open for Mak. “Come on, sweetheart,” I said.

  Her face fell as she crawled over to me. The tears that had been hiding behind the wall of anger she had built up over the last few months finally spilled over. I pulled her onto my lap. Her little body shuddered against mine as she finally let go and cried for the loss of her mother.

  “It’s okay, just let it out,” I whispered.

  She clutched at my shirt and buried her face in my chest.

  I had no clue what to do. There was nothing I could do. I couldn’t force Isabelle to be their mother. I couldn’t make her call them. I’d tried that before. I had left message after message. I texted and I called her every single goddamn day with no answer. Now, with her cell phone number no longer working, I had no way to contact her. And Jefferson Hickson’s maid or secretary or whoever the fuck answered the phones at their house threatened to call the police on me if I called there ever again.

  Rage filled my body. Rage that had nowhere to go.

  I looked down at Mel. She had fallen asleep, her face still wet with tears. Mak gasped and hiccupped out the rest of her tears, then closed her eyes. They had cried themselves to sleep. It was only seven o’clock. Normally, they would argue to stay up later.

  I wanted to hit something. Punch a hole straight through the fucking wall.

  Frustrated tears filled my eyes, but I forced them back before they could fall.

  I looked down at their sleeping faces. I had never felt so powerless in my life. I did not understand how Isabelle could do this. I had everything, the entire world, right here in my arms and it hadn’t been good eno
ugh for her.

  How could that be?

  How had she fooled me so well? All those wasted years…I should have packed up the girls and come back to Green Valley as soon as Mel was born instead of trying to hold on to a worthless woman like Isabelle.

  I settled Mak down at my side. She tucked her hands under her cheek and sank into my pillow. I shifted Mel over and settled her next to Mak. She didn’t wake either. I took off their shoes and covered them with my quilt. Princess Buttercup curled up at their feet and went to sleep.

  My heart twisted into a knot at the sight of them snuggled together on my pillow. I was no longer tense with anger; I felt useless, worthless, stuck in place, with nothing I could do for them and no idea how to make it better.

  Their mother was gone. It was obvious now. She didn’t care, and she wasn’t going to visit them.

  Anger flooded through my veins again when I studied their sleeping faces. I stood up and left the room.

  On my way to the living room, I saw the pile of mail from this afternoon sitting under the mail slot and stopped to pick it up. Cold anticipation filled my heart when I saw a large manila envelope in the middle of the pile.

  I inhaled a slow, shaky breath and sat on the couch. I unsealed the tape that held the silver tab down and pulled out a sheaf of papers. One small sheet fluttered to the floor, and I bent to retrieve it.

  It was a check. For one million dollars. Signed by Jefferson Hickson.

  A bitter laugh escaped me as I rifled through the papers and saw Isabelle’s handwriting. She wanted to relinquish her parental rights to the girls. She had written them goodbye letters. She was trying to buy her way out of their lives with a million dollars of guilt money. The rest of it was just legal documents. Sign on the dotted line, take the money, and the girls were all mine.

  I finally had my answers.

  I tossed the papers to the table. I was tempted to tear that check apart–—fuck her guilty conscience. But that wasn’t my choice. That money belonged to the girls. I opened the drawer to the coffee table and slipped the check and the papers inside. I would ask my mother what I should do with it.