Chapter Twelve

CHAPTER TWELVE

Sabrina

The guilt was going to eat me alive.

I'd actually snapped at my boss at work because I'd been so consumed with my regrets for leaving Daphne alone at night, allowing her to be a victim to some random assholes who wanted to hurt her.

Sam had tried to talk me down about it as I got ready for work, filling them in on all of the details. She reminded me that being home might not have changed anything at all. Except that both of us may have become victims. And one of us might not have gotten away as relatively unharmed as just Daphne had.

She was probably right.

If I'd seen someone coming in, I would have rushed in front of my daughter. I would have done everything in my power to keep them away from her. Which likely would have resulted in the same outcome. Daphne on the balcony with no choice but to scale down. Only she would have to witness whatever sick shit those men would have done to me first.

And then what?

Been all alone in the world?

Objectively, I knew that Sam and Britney would fight like hell to take her. But still.

I made it a point in the day following the attack to sit down and fill out a will. I didn't have much to speak of by the way of possessions. But Daphne had a college savings. And I wanted it to be in writing somewhere that my daughter went to the only other women who had been like family to her.

The day after that, I went to get that document notarized. Then made a copy and left it with Sam and Britney.

I also looked into the process for getting a gun in New Jersey. As well as researched what kinds of guns were best for novices.

I didn't know if anything would actually come of that for me. But I wanted to know my options.

It was likely something I would bring up to Daphne once things were calmer. See how she felt about it. It was her home too.

Daphne was a trooper with her cast. The only time she complained was when we had to wrap her up to shower. Eventually, she had to give up on the idea of washing her own hair. Which meant I was now her hair washer.

I was also her back scratcher.

And her lunch packer.

Anything I could do to try to make her life easier while she was especially sore after the break.

It was on the Wednesday after her attack that I picked her up from Sam and Britney's that she demanded we stop at the grocery store.

"For what?" I asked, having just shopped the day before.

"We have to bake Callow those cookies you promised him," she said, glancing over at me.

It was not the first time she'd brought up Callow since the night he'd left our apartment.

It wasn't even the twentieth time.

The girl was relentless.

And I'd been, I don't know, hesitant.

First, because of the guilt. I mean, I'd been out with Callow on a damn island when my kid needed me.

Besides that, I don't know. I felt weird about it. Not embarrassed exactly. I refused to feel bad about how upset and not myself I'd been. But there was some internal discomfort over the way I'd reacted to Callow's goodness.

I mean, it sounded insane, but I felt like I'd all but fallen completely in love with him over the course of one night.

When he'd shown back up at the hospital with clothes for me. Because he knew I was wet and freezing. Then he'd just… stayed. Been a rock for me. Brought us coffee and hot chocolate. Made plans to help us feel safe in our home again. Then actually come and installed all of those systems himself.

I knew, logically, I hadn't fallen in love with the man because of that. It was just the shock and relief of not being alone, of having someone strong enough to rely on.

Hell, I was feeling a little weepy just remembering that feeling.

I prided myself on being independent. On being strong. But, God, it was exhausting. It was a tiredness that worked its way into your bones, into your marrow. For just one night, having someone be there, take the reins, give me a break had been surprisingly emotional.

"Mom?" Daphne called.

"Yeah?"

"The food store?"

"Right. Ah, yeah. Okay. What kind of cookies do you want to make?"

"What's his favorite kind?"

"I don't know."

"Mommm."

"What? I'm sorry. We didn't quite get to favorite cookies yet," I said, rolling my eyes at her.

"I guess chocolate chip then. Who doesn't like chocolate chip?"

With that, we went to the grocery store then home. Where Daphne insisted we get started on the cookies right away.

And by "we," I mean "me." While Daphne sat on the stool watching and critiquing. Until, a few hours later, we had a plate piled high with perfect little round pillows of deliciousness.

"Can we bring them to him?" she asked when I was just about to go and take off my bra and settle in for the night, mind on some leftover pasta. Maybe a glass of wine. Or two.

What can I say? Despite the new locks and self-defense items, I was having trouble sleeping. I jumped at every sound in the building. I was suspicious of every shadow. I checked on Daphne almost compulsively.

A glass of wine might just allow me to actually get a full night of sleep for a change.

"Mom?" Daphne called.

"Hm? Sorry. What?"

"Can we bring the cookies to Callow?"

"Right now?" I asked.

"They're better when they're fresh," she insisted, a dog with a bone about the issue.

I didn't know why I was feeling so hesitant.

No, that was a lie.

It was because I hadn't heard from him.

True, the phone rang both ways, but I couldn't seem to make myself reach out first. Not even to thank him again for being there for me.

And the longer the silence went on, the more I was convinced that he'd had time to sit with everything and decided he didn't want to pursue things further with me.

That insecurity had been unexpectedly debilitating.

"I guess," I agreed, reaching to open the drawer to pull out the aluminum foil to wrap up the top of the plate of cookies.

"Right now?" Daphne asked.

"Yes, now," I said, trying not to sound as reluctant as I felt as I slid into my shoes.

I didn't even let myself go into the bathroom to pull my hair out of its ponytail or slather on a little lipstick or mascara.

"You're going like that?" Daphne asked, gaze moving over me, clearly finding my look lacking.

It was my usual skinny jeans and a band tee but with a zip-up hoodie over it.

"Yeah. What's wrong with it?" I asked.

To that, I got an eye roll. "Nothing, I guess," she said in the most passive-aggressive way possible.

But I wasn't going to get changed for a man who hadn't reached out to me in a week. I wasn't that desperate for attention, damnit.

"Why are you bringing that?" I asked when she snatched a book off of the coffee table on her way to the door.

"In case you and Callow want to, you know, talk or something," she said, quickly turning off the door alarm then rushing out into the hall before I could question her any further.

I wasn't going to sneak away and talk to Callow. Hell, I was hoping he wasn't even in and we could just leave the cookies for him.

Fine, only a very small part of me wanted him to be out. It was the same part that was resisting the urge the whole ride to pull my hair down, fluff it up, and swipe on some lipstick. It was the insecure part of me. And I wasn't going to feed into it.

Even on a Thursday night, there were several cars in the lot along with the usual bikes. And even before we climbed out of the car, I could hear the thump of music inside. Along with the high pitch trill of feminine laughter.

"Mom, come on," Daphne said, stopping several feet ahead of me, her book tucked under her bad arm and the cookies in her good hand.

"Coming," I said. With each step, my stomach tensed and twisted around on itself at the idea of walking in there to possibly see Callow flirting—or worse—with another woman.

But whatever it was, it was.

So I stiffened my spine, lifted my chin, and followed my daughter… who just threw open the damn door.

"You can't just walk right into a—" I started to scold her as I followed behind, stopping short as we walked into the common room to find a bunch of the bikers and women sitting around a poker table.

One woman was in the process of pulling off her shirt.

Until the man next to her spotted Daphne and reached over to pull it back down.

"Looks like we are going to forego the whole stripping part for the time being," he said, grinning at us as he sat there in his absurd bright orange Hawaiian shirt with iguanas all over it. "Hey girls. Looking for Callow?" he asked as, with an almost pathetic amount of relief, I realized he wasn't seated at the strip poker table with all of the pretty women. "Callow!" he yelled. Then, "Company!"

A moment later, a door in the hallway slammed. I swear my heart thumped in time with his footsteps until he was in the doorway, looking bed-sexy in a pair of low-slung black sweatpants.

And nothing else.

The desire was a sucker-punch to my system as my gaze moved over his wide chest, down the deep indents of his abdominal muscles.

"Shit," he said, spotting Daphne, and quickly lifting the black tee in his hand to throw it on. "Hey, Daph," he said after he was done, taking a few steps forward. "How you feeling?" His gaze slid from her face, likely noticing how much the cuts had faded already, to her cast that was now covered in signatures.

"A lot better," she said. "We made you cookies. Well, Mom made you cookies. I mostly…"

"Critiqued," I filled in for her, embarrassed at how my heart ached for him to look at me.

Then, at the sound of my voice, his gaze moved from the plate in Daphne's hand to my face.

I swear those blue eyes had impact, making me almost go back a step.

"Hey," I said, my voice small and airy.

"Hey, babe," he said, eyes going warm, little crinkles forming beside them.

"Why don't you bring these to Callow's room?" Daphne asked, shoving the cookies at me, making me grab for them before they fell. "While I get a poker lesson," she said, reaching for a chair.

"Absolutely n—" I started.

"I promise to keep it PG," the Hawaiian shirt guy who had to be the guy Sully from Callow's stories, said. "It's… a math lesson," he added as Daphne wedged herself between two of the women, setting her book on her lap, and watching as Sully gathered up the cards to shuffle.

"Coffee?" Callow asked with a little smirk, waving toward the kitchen.

"Sure," I agreed, figuring I could at least glance in at my daughter every few minutes to make sure she was behaving.

"How's she doing really?" he asked as he went right to the coffee maker to start making a fresh pot.

"She's… okay," I said, surprised how true that was. "Physically, she gets annoyed that she can't pick things up or wash her own hair. But other than that, she's good."

"Emotionally?" he asked, putting fresh grounds into the filter.

"She's… okay. Honestly. I think I'm worse off than she is," I admitted.

Turning on the machine, he turned to me, brows pinched.

"Something going on?" he asked.

"No. No, everything is alright. I'm just having trouble sleeping. Jumping at noises and shadows kind of thing."

"It'll get better," he assured me. "It hasn't been that long."

"Yeah," I agreed, focusing on unwrapping the tin foil to expose the cookies because things felt unusually awkward between us.

I was so focused, in fact, that I didn't even see Callow move.

But then, there he was, his hands reaching for me, grabbing me, turning me to him, then crushing me to his body as his lips claimed mine.

The moan that escaped me was immediate as I melted into him.

My arms went around his neck, holding him tightly as his arms wrapped me up tight enough to nearly cut off my air supply as his lips slanted over mine again and again.

A tingle worked its way up my spine and spread outward until it overtook me completely, leaving me swaying into his strength as his tongue teased, as his teeth nipped.

It was Callow who came to his senses first, pulling his lips from mine, but not letting me go, just holding onto me.

And I went ahead and gave into the urge to press my face to his strong chest, breathing him in, absorbing his warmth, enjoying the strength in his arms.

"You didn't text," I said, wincing even as the words escaped me, knowing how needy they sounded.

"I didn't know if you wanted me to," he admitted as his hand moved up and down my spine.

"What? Why?" I asked, mind racing with all the ways I may have screwed this up unintentionally.

"You were… upset that you were with me when Daph was attacked. I… I wasn't sure if you'd want to see me again because of that."

"I was just upset," I admitted, kicking myself for running my mouth when I was too anxious and hysterical to think the words through. "It wasn't about you. It was just… guilt for not being there. It had nothing to do with you. That was the best date I've ever had.

"Full-disclosure, though," I said, pulling back enough to smirk up at him, "most of my dates have included cheap beer and the woods or a backseat somewhere," I admitted.

"Woods and backseats?" he asked, looking a little horrified. "The fuck kinda men you been dating?"

"To be fair, almost all of my dating history took place pre-Daphne," I told him.

"You haven't dated since? In sixteen years?"

"I mean… not… really. I had two sort of… what do the kids call it these days? Situationships? I don't know. Nothing serious that lasted more than a week or two. I never wanted to bring anyone around Daphne," I told him.

"Why not?" he asked, releasing me as the coffee machine beeped.

Turning, he grabbed cups and started to pour.

"I saw a documentary once," I told him. "It was about men who preyed on children. And the men all said the same thing."

"What's that?" Callow asked as he went to get the creamer.

"That they don't choose the children. They choose the mom."

"Christ," he said, looking taken aback.

"I know. Horrible thought. I never wanted anyone to get to Daphne through me just because I was lonely."

"So she's never seen you with a man? Ever?"

"No," I said as he handed me my cup. "Sorry we don't have the ingredients for s'mores coffees."

"I usually drink it with cream and sugar at home. She's Bean Around is for treat coffee."

"What's different now?" he asked as I took a sip.

"What do you mean?"

"Me," he said. "You."

"Oh, ah. Well, honestly, I guess Daphne is different now. First, because she's older. And she's had a lot of talks about predatory men and how we don't keep secrets like that. But also… because she was the one to… push us together, I guess."

"The text," he agreed.

"Yes," I said, exhaling hard. "And she also got her friend Allie to play sick so that Britney cancelled on me. It was a whole scheme to get us in the same place at the same time."

"Guess I owe her some sort of thank-you gift for that," Callow said, sipping his coffee from across the room. Like he didn't trust himself with getting too close to me.

"She'd like bookstore gift cards," I told him, thinking of the eight books she'd plowed through in a week thanks to the random ‘get well' gift from Allie and her moms of a young adult ‘romantasy' book. She was hooked. My credit card was about to catch fire from the charges. But my guilt made it impossible to turn her down. Well, that and the fact that I was much more comfortable with her experiencing wild and crazy things through fiction instead of real life.

"Got a club princess," he started. At my blank look, he clarified, "A club princess is the daughter of a club member."

"Oh, okay."

"She's obsessed with reading. For her last birthday, the girls took her to the bookstore and for her gift, let her pick out as many books as she could carry in five minutes. That might be a fun way to show my gratitude."

"I don't think that would be fair," I said, smiling.

"Right. She can't hold the books," he said, nodding.

"No, no. No, it wouldn't be fair to your wallet," I told him. "She'd clear the shelves of the YA section."

"My wallet can take it. And my arms can hold more than hers could even on a good day."

It sounded like he was about to set up a sort of… family outing. And, God, my heart felt like it was about to explode at just the idea of it.

"Can I have a cup of…" Daphne started to say as she walked into the kitchen, stopping mid-sentence as she looked over at something on the side of the cabinet.

I hadn't been paying attention when I'd walked in, so I had no idea what it was.

But her entire posture went tight.

" Mom ," she said, her voice filled with horror as she suddenly reached up, ripping a piece of paper down and turning it to me. "This is him!"

"What? That's who?" I asked, moving closer.

"This is the guy who was in the apartment," she said, voice wobbling.

"Are you sure?" Callow asked, voice as tight as Daphne's had been.

" Yes ," she said, giving him a fierce look.

"Who is it?" I asked, taking the paper from my daughter and looking at Callow. "What is going on?"