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“Nothing. Continue, please,” I say. That word must shock her, because she blinks and pauses. Am I being too nice? Does she prefer the gun to her head? It wouldn’t surprise me if that’s what Sophie liked, but Emily doesn’t seem the type. Which is one thing I like about her. Beyond her looks, which are more than enough to keep my attention, even if she tries to hide it behind her meek attitude and professional outfits, it’s her mind that has me intrigued. With her help I feel like I have a shot at making Ironwood Falls into something I haven’t had in a long time: a home. “Tell me the next steps. Do we get Charlie his shots or what?”
That calm, collected, commanding babysitter tone returns. She’s stronger than I’ve given her credit for. She’s stronger than she gives herself credit for, too.
“If he needs them.”
“Considering the fact that we don’t have records for that, it seems like we don’t have an answer for whether he needs them,” I say, frustration seeping into my voice. This is pointless — it’s like Schrodinger’s shot. How the fuck do people do this parenting thing? It’s fucking maddening. You don’t give a baby his shots, it’s bad; you give a baby the wrong shots, it’s bad; you give a baby too many shots, it’s also bad. It’s just test after test for eighteen years. “Do we just wait until he gets sick with one of those abbreviations you rattled off or what?”
“No. Breathe in, breathe out. I’ve got this taken care of.”
I hadn’t even realized I was acting stressed, but a breather does me good. Raising Charlie is going to make dealing with Victor Moretti seem like a fucking vacation. “Go ahead.”
She continues, calm, like this is all just a walk in the park for her. “I talked to the doctor. Besides taking care of his cold, they took a blood sample—”
“That bitch made him bleed?” I say before I can help myself. I’ve just spotted the little bandage on his heel, of all places, and the image of Charlie being bled, crying, flashes through my mind.
“He didn’t feel a thing. He giggled, even,” she says.
“Figures he would. He’s tough,” I say.
“He’s very tough. Just like his father,” she says. And she smiles at me in a way I can’t decipher. “The doctor’s going to run an antibody titer test. It’ll measure the antibody levels in his blood and tell us which shots he needs. The results should be in tomorrow, and then Charlie will go in and get a second examination and the shots he needs.”
“A second doctor’s visit? It’s not like I have insurance. And I’m not planning on robbing a bank anytime soon. Does the doctor accept labor for services?”
“This doctor will not accept anything for her services unless you care to make a donation. She’s a friend of a friend and she knows some people experience hard times with healthcare, so she tries to help. I’ve got it all taken care of, Hunter.”
Her capabilities leave me stunned for a moment; there’s no way this would be so easy without her.
“And you’ll be able to take him to this appointment tomorrow?”
She nods, once, precise and professional. “It’d probably be for the best. If you went in and they found out you were Charlie’s father, you’d probably get an earful from the doctor and her nurse. Sophie may have told them that Charlie resulted from a hookup she had with an anonymous drifter.”
“Not my finest moment,” Sophie says. “But no shame. Even if they gave me a lecture and some side-eye. Em handled it all like a champ.”
“So, yeah, I think it’d be best if I take Charlie in,” she says. Then she pauses, measuring her words. When they come, they’re hesitant. “This thing you’re doing tomorrow with the Twisted Devils… it isn’t dangerous, is it? I’ve heard rumors about them, and I don’t know if that would be good for Charlie. Plus, you’re the only family he’s got, you said, and…”
I hold up a hand, and she stops.
Even though she’s right — I am all Charlie has and tomorrow’s work is going to be dangerous — I can’t let her know the truth: I need Emily; I need her talents to make the idea of finally having a home a reality. There are other reasons, too. Reasons that make my heart pound, while my eyes settle on places that, if she knew what I was looking at, she’d definitely leave running.
“It’s not dangerous. It’s just a simple job,” I say. “All I want here in Ironwood Falls is a peaceful place for Charlie and I to call home. That’s it. Nothing else.”
Nothing else except finding the people who killed my brother and ripping them, and all their friends and family, to pieces.
“Good,” Emily says, her eyes searching mine for any hint of deception. She must see what she needs to see because she relaxes slightly. "I trust you’ll do what's best for Charlie."
Her trust in me feels like both a blessing and a burden. I look down at the little guy cradled in my arms, his tiny chest rising and falling with each breath, and I swear to myself that I’ll keep him safe. No matter what it takes. No matter how much blood and how many bodies I have to bury.
I owe you that, little guy. A safe home and a chance at a good life. I promise you.
"Thanks, Em," I say, quietly. "For everything." Then, after a moment, I add, “There’s just one last thing.”
“What’s that?”
“If you’re going to be taking him to the doctor’s tomorrow, and helping me with him on other days, we should trade numbers. It’d be the responsible thing to do.”
For a moment that passes so quickly that I’m sure it has to be a figment of my imagination, a burst of joy and something else, something more heated, flashes through her eyes. Then she smiles calmly and nods.
“I agree. It’d definitely the responsible thing to do. Let’s trade numbers.”
