Looking back I can see the blizzard of chaos I set into motion when I hid the truth from you. But it was as if I was holding a double-edged sword. On one side I could leave as I did and you’d knock yourself down even harder before you got back up. On the other side, I could have stayed and had you resent me and Kadi for ruining everything you’d planned.
Jace Warner, you can tell me you wouldn’t have resented us all you want, but I know you—knew you. You would have felt trapped. If the expression on your face was anything to go by, you were already feeling that way and I don’t blame you. Yes, it took both of us to make the baby, but I’ll never regret it. Look at the gift we were given. Love and life.
I’ll talk to you soon. I promise.
Always yours,
Sydney
16
Sydney
My Dearest Jace,
This is my sixth letter and I'm hoping they're getting easier for you to read. By now Kay-Kay's been with you for a while and I hope she's settling in okay. She's always adapted to any changes fairly well, though this time is different. I won't be there.
I wish I'd told you sooner, Jace. I wish I'd have been selfish and kept you all to myself. But I didn't and these wishes aren't the kind that will ever come true. These are the kind of wishes that are made much too late when hindsight is 20/20.
I loved you with every fiber of my being. I want you to know that and, please, never doubt it. The choices I made were that of a seventeen year old who was scared and unsure. I know right now you're wondering how I could possibly have been unsure because you told me every day that you loved me, but I was a teenage girl. Teenage girls are so very insecure even when there's no need to be.
I knew you loved me. I knew you were scared too. We were kids, Jace. Just two stupid kids who had the condom break one wild night. What are the odds?
You paused when I told you and I gave you that because I paused too when I found out. But the next day you still had that same look on your face. It was one that said you had no idea what the hell you were doing and the future you'd planned out was now gone. I didn't want you to resent me or our beautiful little girl for holding you back.
I didn't know you'd react as you did. I didn't know you'd end up working for your father. Son of a bitch that he is, I should have known he'd force you once I heard you were getting into trouble. I hate he did that to you, but it seems like everything worked out for you, Lucy, Sera, and Megs in the end, right? You'd all grown up some so you were better able to deal with the things that come with the life of a rockstar.
I’m feeling nostalgic and regretful today. I’m sorry for dragging you down with me.
I’ll talk to you soon. I promise.
Always yours,
Sydney
Part III
The storm.
17
Summer
It’s been three days since I’ve seen Jace and I can’t stop thinking about him. The look on his face, the distress, the sorrow, at hearing Kadence talk about her mother teaching her dance is something I won’t soon forget. I wish I could have gone up to him and given him a hug, just holding him close, comforting him.
But that wasn’t possible then and it’s not possible now. Not only because of my job, but because I forbid myself to get mixed up with a rockstar. Sheesh. I’m sounding like a broken record, but I need reminding.
I pull up in front of the Garza residence—again—this time unannounced. I saw the bruises on little Maria’s back and Antonio’s arms. I couldn’t get them to talk with Mr. Garza around, and he hovered.
Three months ago when Lydia Garza died, an investigation into Luis, her husband, had begun. The police only found circumstantial evidence and it wasn’t enough to get any charges to stick. This man knew how to hurt, and hurt well, and keep it under the radar. He is as slimy as they come with his slicked-back black hair, wife-beater, and well-worn jeans. It is the boots that always draw my attention though. The investigation revealed bruises along Lydia’s face, skull, and body in a crescent shape that fit the form of steel-toed boots. Just like her husband wears.
The bastard.
I get out of the car and immediately I hear yelling from a deep male voice, then a high-pitched scream. I immediately call 911, then look around the neighborhood. There aren’t many people around since it’s the middle of a workday.
Shit.
I pocket my pepper spray and taser, just in case. I’m so glad I wore pants today instead of a skirt because I have a feeling this is going to get ugly—especially when I hear Antonio’s pleas begging his father to stop.
Screw the briefcase. I keep an open line with the 911 operator, tucking my phone into my back pocket. I hear sirens in the distance, but I can’t wait. I can’t stand here and do nothing while that son of a bitch hurts those children.
I bang hard on the door. No one answers. I don’t wait. I open it and step inside calling out, “Mr. Garza? It’s Summer Stephens from DCFS. I need to speak with you.”
I hear him scold the children in hushed tones, then heavy footsteps approaching. I’m standing just inside the door when he enters the room. In his hand he has a knife and I fight back the panic. Did he cut those children? Are they bleeding? Is he going to hurt me with it?
I can see the blood on the blade as he gets closer. Oh shit. This is bad. Bad, bad, bad. I grab my pepper spray, flicking open the top, then resting my finger on the trigger.
“Miss Stephens. I wasn’t expecting you,” Luis says, annoyance lacing his tone.
“I was assigned three unannounced visits today and your family was on the list,” I tell him. It’s not a total lie. I was assigned this home but mostly because I’d filled my boss in about the bruises.
“You were just here. Why do we need another visit?” he bites out, standing a few feet away.
I shrug. “I don’t get to choose. I just follow my assignments as they’re given to me.”
He tilts his head, reading the lie clear as day. I’ve never been a very good liar.
He nods. “Sure, sure. I know how it is with bosses. They give the assignments.”
“Exactly.” I nod. I want so much to press my hand against my nervous stomach, to take a deep breath to slow down my heart.
“I was just cutting some meat for dinner. Did you want to join us?” he asks, and I know it’s a trick. His eyebrow twitched.
“Sure, I can do that,” I reply, stepping further into the home.
“Let’s close the door to keep the air conditioning inside,” he mutters, then closes the door behind me. “It’s a hot one today.”
“Too hot,” I agree as he leads me to the kitchen where there is cut up beef on the counter, but...
“Are Maria and Antonio home?”
He stiffens. “They are playing at the neighbor’s house.”
Liar.
“Oh, hmm,” I begin and he turns to look at me, a slab of meat in one hand, and that sharp hunting knife in the other. I swallow.
“What?” he asks.
I shake my head and fake a smile. “Nothing really, I just thought I heard them when I stepped out of the car.”
“You must have heard them next door.”
“I must have. I should go over there so I can see them, ask them if everything’s okay, so I can say this unannounced visit is over. You know, the usual routine. No sense in me hanging around waiting, right?”
He sets the meat down but not the knife. “You don’t want to stop them from their play time, do you, Miss Stephens?”
“No, no, I wish I didn’t have to, but it’s part of the job.” I shake my head, feigning annoyance. “It’s such a pain sometimes, but if I don’t follow the protocol, my boss won’t sign off on it.”
I step back toward the door as he steps forward. I have to make it through the living room then open the inside and outside doors before I’ll be in a safe public place. I’m so stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. What was I thinking?
I was thinking about those children is what I was think
ing. Those children who I don’t hear at all. That worries me.
"Which neighbor did you say they were with?" I ask, slowly making my way through the living room—him right behind me.
"The Hernandez'. Right next door," he answers.
I nod. "That's nice. Maria really likes playing with Stephanie. I can't wait to see what Antonio and Jorge have built this time."
Just a few more steps, Summer. Almost free and clear.
The sirens are getting louder. They're almost here. Thank God.
I reach for the doorknob only to find it locked. I turn the lock, unlocking the door, and just as I'm opening it, Luis slams me back against the wall. The door flies out of my hand, opening with such force it bangs against the opposite wall from me, punching a hole in the drywall.
Oh fuck.
He's right up on me, his rank breath fanning my face and I nearly gag. I don't think he ever brushes his teeth. His forearm pushes against my neck, his body squeezing me against the wall.
"I told you, you don't need to disturb them. Why do you bitches always disobey?" he asks. He pokes the tip of his knife into the side of my neck, then drags it down. I whimper.
"Tell me why!"
I jump at his outburst and shake my head, the knife slicing deeper, as my hand brings up the pepper spray.
My eyes cut to the right at nothing, just to distract him, and it works, he looks over his shoulder, backing up just slightly, and I shove him as hard as I can.
I lift the pepper spray but before I can press the button, he grabs my shoulders, giving me a shove against the screen door.
"I asked you a question, puta."
I shake my head. "I don't know."
He raises a fist and punches me in the side of the face just as I press the pepper spray trigger, dousing his entire face. He howls out in rage and pain as I go flying through the door, stumbling back and falling off the porch, missing the steps completely.
I hit the ground with a thud, the concrete unforgiving. My head bounces once and I fight to prevent more. Once was more than enough.
The air has been sucked from my lungs and I begin to panic, rolling to my side and crawling onto my hands and knees, struggling for oxygen. There's someone there, pushing me down onto my back and I swing a fist, missing my target. I blink up and see a paramedic.
"Breathe slowly. Shallow breaths now," he coaxes. "You got the wind knocked out of you. That was one hell of a fall."
Ya think?
Slowly I'm able to breathe, then a little more, and more. Then I suck in a very deep breath before letting it out.
"I promise to never take oxygen or lungs for granted again," I murmur.
"Let's get you into the ambulance. My partner is bringing the board," he tells me.
The children.
"No," I tell him, getting up and running past a policeman handcuffing Luis Garza, whose eyes are red and puffy, watering as if he were crying like a bitch. But he's not. No, that's me on the inside.
"Maria! Antonio!" I scream.
I race through the living room to the kitchen and stand in place, just listening, trying to hear over the chaos outside. Then I hear it. Banging on a door. I walk down the other hallway toward the noise, the paramedic and two cops behind me.
"It's the children," I tell them, frantic to make sure they're okay.
When we reach the door, it's locked with a key none of us have.
"I'm going to break the door down," one of the cops says.
"Maria, Antonio? Please step back from the door. There's a nice policeman who's going to open it for us, but he has to break it down, okay?" I ask.
I hear whimpers then shuffling around. I hope they're far enough away.
"Stand back," the cop commands and we all do. He's a very big man, muscles on top of muscles and it only takes him one try to pop the door open. I expected it to be more dramatic, but for the kids' sake, I'm glad it wasn't.
They're sitting on a dirty mattress in the corner, holding one another, crying. There's blood—Oh God, there's blood and bruises. Maria's face is swelling and turning purple while Antonio holds his side.
"Forget about me," I tell the paramedic. "Help them. He was beating them when I arrived. Please hurry!"
"Miss, what were you doing here?" muscles asks me.
"I'm from DCFS. I was doing an unannounced visit and I heard the dad yelling at the screaming and crying children. I wanted to wait, but I had to help them. At least I distracted him from hurting them any further," I tell them.
"You're going to need stitches on your neck and the back of your head is bleeding pretty bad," the other cop tells me.
"Them first, please," I plead.
"There are a couple more ambulances out there, Miss…?"
"Stephens. Summer Stephens."
"You need medical attention."
I shake my head, tears slipping from my eyes. I lost the last thread of control I had when Antonio whimpered as they placed him on the backboard.
Rushing forward, I go to the children.
"I am so sorry I couldn't help you sooner. You sweet, precious babies," I croon softly. Maria takes my hand and Antonio takes my other. "You're okay now. You're okay. He won't hurt you ever again. Never again."
They cry and sob as the paramedics take them to the ambulance.
"Don't be afraid. I'll be right behind you in an ambulance of my own, okay?" I reassure them.
"Promise?" Maria sobs.
"I promise. I'll be there."
When they load them into the ambulance, I pull out my phone from my back pocket and just as I figured, it's totaled.
"Shit," I mutter. "I need to call my boss and my phone…"
"I already put a call in for you," muscles tells me. I look at his name tag.
"Thank you so much Officer Weiland."
"No problem. Now get in the rig so they can take you to the hospital and get you stitched up," he commands, leaving no room for argument.
"Yes, sir," I answer and do as he asks.
Before the door is even closed, the paramedics are working on me.
18
Jace
“She what?”
“Dude, calm down,” Kennedy soothes.
“Fuck that. What happened?” I ask Cage.
“She went and did an unannounced visit to a home where she suspected abuse was going on, and the father—and I’m using that term loosely—hadn’t only beat up his kids, but he punched Summer in the face, sending her flying down the front steps, landing on her back on the cement,” Cage explains.
“What the fuck? Don’t they have people who go with them in cases like this? Don’t they take cops along?” I ask, pacing the floor.
She’s not super tiny at five feet seven with curves that go on for days, but she’s very, very feminine.
“The main thing is, she’s okay and the fucker is now in jail. The kids are staying at Joan’s house,” Cage tells me.
Joan is the woman who, at a young age, Cage tried to mug only to have her turn it around on him. She then took him in and took care of him. She takes care of children like the ones Summer was trying to protect and troubled teens like Cage had been. The woman has the patience of a saint.
“Summer’s alone?” I question.
Cage shrugs. “That, I wasn’t privy to. Sorry.”
“I don’t even have her address. How am I supposed to—”
Cage cuts me off when he holds up a slip of paper.
“Thanks. I keep saying that to you lately. I really don’t know how I can ever repay you,” I admit.
Cage stares me down.
“Yeah, yeah. I know. We won’t talk about this again,” I chuckle, but all he’s done for me lately, I feel like I owe him something.
“You owe me nothing,” he tells me, reading my mind. “It’s what we do.”
Family.
He doesn’t need to say it. I know what he means.
“Go,” Kennedy tells me with the wave of a hand.
“You don’t need
the car?” I ask.
“Nah, I have a couple things to talk over with bossman.”
I nod. “See you back at the house.”
“And don’t worry about Kadi. She’s going to spend the night with us. Sera insists,” Cage tells me as I head out the door.
I stop and turn around. “Are you sure?”
“You want to call and ask Sera?” he asks with a small smirk.
“Hell no. I’m good. Then, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. If you need me—”
“I’ve got your number. Stop being a pussy and stalling and go see how she’s doing,” Cage tells me.
I head out to the car, nodding to Cage’s super-efficient assistant, Marta, on the way out.
I ring the bell to Summer’s ranch-style home. It’s a pretty sweet setup she’s got going on here. I ring the bell again and wait.
No one answers.
Either she’s sleeping or she’s hurt and can’t get up to answer the door. It’s the latter that has me testing the knob. Locked. I walk around to the back of the house, finding a nice-sized pool and patio. Glass patio doors. Bingo.
Locked. But that doesn’t matter much since I know how to get them unlocked. Yeah, that bit of trouble I got into when I was younger… I was a punk ass kid who acted out when life didn’t go his way. I broke into many, too many, homes and lifted whatever cash we found and anything we could sell. Then we took the cash and scored drugs and liquor, getting beyond fucked up every single day. I was a fucking mess.
I get the latch undone and slide the door open. It’s quiet, it’s cool, and it’s a pretty awesome house. I step into the TV room.
“Summer?” I call out as I close and relock the patio door, putting the security bar in place, shaking my head at Summer. The woman has extra security, the kind she needs, but didn’t use it. If she’d have had that bar in place, I wouldn’t be in here. We needed to talk about that.