Page 3 of Penalty Kill

“Good. Good.”

“Brandon, what do you need?” I could hear the smile in her voice. Emma and Olli had been good friends to me when my life flipped upside down. She gathered the women from the Pride to step in and babysit when I needed it. She was my main resource for advice and questions with the boys. Even though Jackson was still less than a year old, she knew more than I did. Mothering came so naturally to her. She was my saving grace.

“The boys want new green shirts for their class’s St. Patrick’s Day celebration.”

“Okay. I’m heading to the mall downtown today, so I’ll pick up something for them.”

I let out a sigh. “Are you sure it’s not an inconvenience?”

She was always so good about fitting my requests into her normal day. Whether it was the grocery store, craft supplies, the bakery the boys love, or the mall, she always happened to be going the day I needed her help. She was wonderful. One day I’d find a way to repay her and the rest of the Pride for helping me without making me feel like the failure I was.

“Not at all. I’m meeting Chloe to do some baby shopping, so we’ll be at kid stores all day.”

“Thank you, Emma. Really.”

“No problem.”

I was about to hang up when I remembered Finn’s request.

“Oh, and they want different shirts. No matching.”

“I know. Milo told me last week that they were sick of getting mixed up.”

Of course, she already knew.

“Thank you.” I shook my head as I pulled into the underground parking beneath the arena.

“I’ll drop them by the house later today. Bye, Brandon.”

Great, one thing off my mind. Just a thousand other things to figure out and sort through. Not for the next few hours though. The moment I stepped out of the car, I was no longer Dad. I was Cullen. Number twenty-one.

Nonstop days like today made me feel the difference between those two more than ever. Just another thing to worry about later.

2

Sydney

I set the stack of applications on the café table in front of me and picked up my tea. This was day four of pounding the pavement and searching for a job. Salt Lake seemed more promising than Denver when I first decided to move, but I wasn’t having any luck. I wasn’t worried quite yet. I had enough money left to last me another week.

I wasn’t at Michigan-desperation level and hopefully, I would never let myself get to that point again. As much as I appreciated the women's shelter in Lansing letting me in during the middle of winter three years ago, I knew better than to end up back in that situation. I felt guilty using resources that could have helped another woman, one without options, but I’d had to move on from Columbus so fast. Too fast to set up a new job or apartment in Lansing. My landlord in Columbus had hit on me multiple times in the three months I lived there, but one night he threatened to evict me if I didn’t let him in to ‘get to know each other.’ He’d given off bad vibes since I moved in, and I decided not to take any chances. I disappeared that night and headed for Michigan without a plan.

Since then, I’d kept enough money on hand to last me two weeks without a job. It was enough to keep me from panicking, but not enough to let me get complacent.

There were a few stores hiring at the outdoor mall downtown, but retail wasn’t my number one choice. I’d been a receptionist in Cincinnati and Newport. That was my favorite position I’d had so far. Well, selling ice cream on the Jersey Shore was pretty fun, but not so great for my bank account.

A couple of women walked past me, and I scooted in so they could get by to the sitting area next to my table. They spoke quickly to one another, and the blond barista with wild ringlets at the counter was shouting to stay in the conversation.

I looked around the small café and realized I was the only other customer. People must have cleared away while I filled out the endless paperwork in front of me.

“No, I really am worried about him now.” A cheerful, honey-blond woman shook her head at the barista. “This has been going on longer than any of us thought.”

A beautiful brunette leaned back in her chair and set her feet up on the coffee table. She rubbed her pregnant belly and sighed. “Telling him isn’t going to convince him. You know how stubborn they all are. It needs to be his idea.”

“I don’t think he’s all that stubborn. He’s drowning right now.” The honey-blond said as she pulled an adorable baby out of a car seat and sat him on her lap. “If he’s to the point of calling us for help, he’s past holding on to any pride or ego. He just doesn’t know what he needs.”

“Which is what?” The barista came from behind the counter and sat on the edge of the brunette’s chair.

I knew I was shamelessly eavesdropping, but their dynamic was intriguing. They seemed to know each other really well and were able to leave things unspoken, yet they all understood one another. What would it be like to have friends like that? To be a part of a group that close?