Chapter 12

It's an unnaturally warm fall day, and since Matteo had the day off for a teacher work day and Pascal is running security for an event with the Rush hockey team (the Gold's AHL affiliate), we are playing hooky.

Or I am, anyway.

Calling in sick to work.

Taking the pulse on my kiddo.

Because it's been three months since that night at my house...and this weekend, Pascal is moving in.

So, I need to make sure that things aren't moving too fast for Matteo.

He seems to have taken the change in stride—hell, he's taken it in glee, especially because Pascal has been all in, at every sporting event and dinner, picking him up from school when I get stuck at work, taking us to his office and winning ultimate cool points by showing off all of the cutting edge tech he uses to keep his clients safe.

But because it's been so all in, the Mom in me needs to check in with my son.

Hence, the beach—sun and surf and boogie boarding in the cold as hell Pacific ocean, eating PBJs tinged with sand, no matter that I wrapped them carefully in foil, and then following them up with individual bags of chips (Fritos for me, Doritos for him). Wresting cold, wet clothes off our bodies and dry ones on in the tiny beach-facing bathroom before stopping at the shop near the parking lot for popsicles—even though we're still freezing—and honey sticks, despite all of the sugar we've consumed.

And through all of that, I hear, "Maybe next time Pascal can come," a dozen times.

And I know…my son is okay.

Doesn't mean I won't keep checking in, but the worry in my heart about the next big step we're all taking this weekend settles.

The only bad part?

My cell took a dip in the Pacific.

Pockets, man, they're dangerous, especially when I forget to empty them and decide to leave my shorts on while showing off my elite boogie boarding skills.

It won't turn on, but I did my best to dry it, and hope that my tech-savvy boyfriend might have some tricks when I get home.

In the meantime, I tuck an extra towel around Matteo and do it smiling because his lids are already droopy.

He'll be out before I hit the highway.

That's okay.

We don't have any big plans for the weekend.

Nothing except building our future, one piece at a time.

Snoring hits my ears before I reach the 101 and continues for the rest of the drive, and I'm contemplating if I should circle the block a few times to give Matteo some extra time to sleep when I see commotion on my street.

One, two...four police cars with their lights flashing and a half-dozen nondescript others are parked...

In front of my house.

I gasp. "What the—?" I pull up to the curb and leave the engine running as I pop the door and get out.

Only to be stopped by a police officer. "Hang on, ma'am," he says. "This is a crime scene and you can't go?—"

"That's my house," I tell him. "I need—" But my gaze goes beyond his shoulder and I see?—

"Pascal!" I call, seeing him come out of my front door, walking and talking with the woman from The Dairy.

Delaney. Right.

They both turn in my direction, and I freeze.

Because he's frozen.

As though he cannot believe that I'm standing here.

Then he's running toward me, taking my arm, drawing me away from the officer and hugging me so tightly that I can barely breathe.

"What is it?" I rasp out. "What happened?"

He just keeps hugging me, and doing it for so long that my lungs protest.

"Pascal, honey, what happened?"

His arms tighten for a second before he releases me and steps back. "Someone busted your door open, burglarized your place."

I gasp, eyes tearing up.

My house. My pictures. Matteo's things.

"Oh my God," I whisper. "Is it...bad?"

"No," he whispers. "The TV in the front room is gone and the video game console. Some other electronics."

That wasn't great.

But it also...wasn't the worst.

"Pascal?"

Delaney comes up to us, stopping a couple feet away, gaze bouncing between us. "Cops picked up two teenagers the next block over. Van was loaded with stuff from Lauren's and what looks to be a handful of houses in the neighborhood. They're being taken downtown now."

Pascal nods.

Delaney walks away.

"You didn't pick up your phone," he rasps, gaze on his feet. "You didn't pick up your fucking phone."

"I accidentally dropped it in the ocean."

His head jerks, gaze hitting mine for a second, I think that might get through to him, shatter whatever ice has surrounded his mind and heart and soul so I keep pressing. "Baby," I say, reaching for him. "I'm okay. Matteo and I are both okay. I get that this must have?—"

"Don't," he whispers, taking a step away from me.

"I—" My eyes flick toward my car. "Take a breath. Let's talk this through and?—"

He shakes his head and backs up another pace. "I can't do this."

A hand plunges into my chest, grips my heart. "What are you saying?"

He shakes his head again.

I force my voice to remain calm. "I know this is triggering and that things are moving fast between us. If you want to pause for a second and talk through this. Maybe slow down and wait to move in?—"

"No," he bursts out, the tone so harsh that fear slices through me. "I can't do this. I can't fucking do this."

"Pascal—"

"Ms. Hollows?" I jerk my head to the side, see the policeman I'd been talking to standing a couple of feet away. "Can we have a minute of your time?"

I glance at Pascal—see nothing but ice. "I know it's scary," I whisper. "But, please, just take one small step forward with me."

He closes his eyes, looks away.

"Ms. Hollows?"

I turn back to the officer. "Just a second. I'll be right over."

The officer nods, heads back to his squad car.

I rotate back to Pascal...

Only, he's gone.

Back into the shadows.

And I'm worried he's intending to stay there permanently.