“Ready?”
Jerking my attention back to my son at the sound of his voice, I looked down at the pre-sanded wood he was waiting to cut. Then, I turned on the blade. “Slow and steady, yeah?”
“Got it.” Without any more prompting from me, Hendrix pushed the wood forward, making the perfect cut as I glanced back toward the door where Grandmama had stood seconds before, expecting to see her nosy behind watching our every move.
To my surprise, she’d vanished.
Three Hours Later
“Tell me about Shorty.”
Hendrix’s words washed over me, taking me by surprise as we sat at the picnic table situated on my dimly lit back porch; two dirty plates and half-filled cups of lemonade between us, the smell of charcoal and grilled burgers clinging to the humid night air.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about her since we played basketball the other night.” His jaw ticked. “All kinds of bad shit has been going through my head where she’s concerned and I’m hoping you can put my mind at ease”—he looked my way—“but I’ve got a real bad feeling that whatever you tell me will do the opposite.”
His feelings were likely correct.
My hands fisted at the thought.
He’s going to blow a gasket…
“What do you want to know about her?”
Knuckles rasping against the wooden tabletop, he looked my way. “Everything. But you can start with giving me her real name. I wanted to ask that first night but figured it wasn’t the best thing to do after reading the situation for what I thought it was.”
It had been the right move to make.
If he’d started asking questions, Little One would’ve frozen up. Carmen too.
“I don’t know her real name.” The words stung to speak. A whole hell of a lot. “But what I can tell you is that my woman calls her Little One.”
“How old is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“She on drugs?”
I shook my head. “No. Just stuck in a real bad situation through no fault of her own.”
A puff of breath whistled through Hendrix’s gritted teeth as he exhaled. He was getting pissed. Didn’t really blame him. I’d been madder than hell since the moment I’d met Carmen and learned of the dark life she was being forced to lead.
“What about Robina Hood? Is she still clean?”
Another nod. “She is.”
Visible anger easing the slightest bit, his tensed shoulders relaxed. “Are you going to tell me her real name?” A smile morphed his face, detracting from the anger that had lined it seconds before. “Or should I just call her Mom?”
Right leg bouncing, I shrugged.
“She wouldn’t mind if you did.”
My answer took him by surprise.
“Goddamn, Pop.” Eyes wide as saucers, he shook his head. “I knew shit was serious, but I didn’t know it was that serious.”
For me, it was.
“I love her, Buddy.” The truthful words hung in the air between us. Silence descended. Then, “I haven’t said those exact words to her yet, even though I’ve told her she owns a piece of my heart, but I plan to change that real soon.”
I blew out a shaky breath. “I can’t explain it and I don’t care to either. My feelings for her, as strong as they are, haven’t wavered since the moment we met. And I know for a damned fact that they never will either.”
Gaze moving to the dark backyard, he nodded. “Yeah,” he replied, arms crossed over his chest. “I believe that. Told you, I knew there was something there the first time I saw y’all together.” Uncrossing his arms, he shifted on the bench seat. “But what about Shorty? If Robina Hood escapes whatever situation she’s in, where’s that leave my new best friend?”
“She won’t be left behind. Guarantee it. None of them will.”
Hendrix’s face swung to meet mine. “Them?” he asked, forehead wrinkling in confusion. “How many women are you planning on saving?”
“A few,” I answered vaguely.
“They all coming to the shelter?”
“That’s the plan.”
“What about after?”
Elbows going to the table, I gestured to the backdoor. “Here.”
“Here?” He didn’t give me the chance to reply before continuing. “Well I’ll be damned.” Removing his ball cap, he ran his fingers through his short black hair. “Guess we better get started cleaning out the extra bedrooms then.” A thoughtful expression crossed his face. “I’ll help you move the crib into my old room once it’s been stained. That way Maddie can sleep in my old bed when her and Peanut are here.”
Gratefulness nearly choked me.
My kid truly was giving me a second chance.
To do better. To do right.
“Then we can work on the other two spare rooms. Both need fresh coats of paint. Wouldn’t hurt to get the carpets cleaned either. And you can send the Crazy Old Biddy on the hunt for new sheets and shit. She’ll love that.”
Wanting nothing more than to tell him exactly what his words, along with his actions meant to me, I swallowed around the gratitude wrapping around my esophagus. “Hendrix, son, I—”
My phone suddenly rang, drowning my words.
Ripping it out of my pocket, I didn’t bother to look at the caller ID before blindly hitting the green accept call icon and lifting it to my ear. “Yeah,” I barked, more than a bit pissed at having someone interrupt my time with my kid.
Staticky silence filled the line.
Heavy breathing followed.
Thinking that someone was prank calling me, my irritation skyrocketed. “Who the fuck is this?”
A sniffle echoed through the speaker.
My insides iced over at the small sound.
I recognized it immediately.
Carmen…
“Beautiful girl, I know it’s you,” I said, gut dropping to my booted feet. “Are you hurt?” Across the table from me, Hendrix froze, drink glass in hand. “Tell me where you are and I’ll come to you.” A whimper met my ears; my panic grew “Sweetheart, fucking talk to me.”
I hadn’t meant to curse at her.
But dammit, I was terrified.
For all I knew, she was hurt.
Maybe even badly.
“Baby—”
“Guapo,” she cried softly. “I need you.”
Without thinking twice, I sprang into action.
Thirty-Three
Carmen
Nausea. Cold sweats. Shame.
All three assailed me as I laid on the mill’s dusty basement
