Evan
Gabe sat in a plastic chair as the blonde psychologist talked. He should have been listening to her. Probably even taking notes. But his brain had reached maximum capacity three weeks ago when he’d arrived in Houston. It didn’t help that they were stuck together in a small office she called the observation room. When he stretched his legs, the tips of his boots touched the opposite wall. Besides the two chairs and the big window taking up one of the four walls, the space was empty.
“I’m glad you were able to come in, Gabe. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Evan and some of the challenges you might be facing with him. He’s gone through a very traumatic experience,” Dr. Miles explained.
On the other side of the glass, he watched the boy she discussed. In his Transformers T-shirt and jeans, the little guy kneeled on the playroom floor connecting together wooden train tracks. His straight brown hair hung over his eyes and covered his ears.
Gabe’s face heated with guilt. Giving the kid a haircut hadn’t even been a thought until what—a second ago?
Damn. The whole situation was beyond fucked up.
His mind wandered to Autumn. Petite. Dark haired. Gentle hazel eyes. The kindest woman he’d ever met. None of this had been part of the plan. Their arrangement had been simple. She raised the boy and he sent the money. But when she died, the plan did too. Why would anyone hurt, much less kill, someone like her? Regardless of the reason, if he ever found out who did this, he’d personally put a bullet in their head.
“Gabe?”
Shit. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”
“I’d rather hear what you were thinking.”
He stared into the playroom. Murder. Torture. None of those thoughts seemed safe to discuss with a psychologist. Evan pushed the hair off his eyes with the back of his arm.
“I need to get his hair cut.”
The therapist laughed. “You’ve had a lot of change in the past three weeks. How are you holding up?”
He jutted his chin in the direction of the boy in the playroom. “I’m more worried about him. What do I need to do to help him?”
“Keep doing what you’re doing.”
The train tracks formed a large figure eight and inside the circles, Evan began to create little neighborhoods with building blocks.
Funny, Gabe currently carried blocks of his own. Except his were ten-ton cement ones, bearing down on him since this nightmare started. Everywhere he went people either looked at him as if he were the killer or as if he were the savior. The pressure of proving the first group wrong and the fear of disappointing the second was getting to him.
“How are you dealing with the loss?”
He cracked a smile. “No time to deal. Too many things on my plate at the moment. But when I do have time, I’ll call you.”
When she didn’t respond, he squirmed in his seat. That was an asshat thing to say.
“Autumn thought a lot about you.”
Gabe looked at the floor and squirmed some more. “So I hear.” Guilt seemed to be the theme of the hour. “Her neighbors said she used to call me her guardian angel. Someone who’ll always swoop in to take care of her and Evan.”
“Sounds like a lot of pressure.”
“I’m good with pressure. Just wish she were around to tell me herself,” he whispered. He didn’t feel like an angel. If he truly was one, he’d have been around when she needed him. Gabe shoved the thought away and ran his fingers through his own overgrown hair. “I’ll take care of him.”
“Is that what you want?”
He rubbed the tight muscles in the back of his neck. “What other choice do I have?”
“There are always choices.”
Gabe shook his head. “None I’m comfortable with. Autumn was in foster care her whole life, so she had no one else. And my mother’s not an option.”
Evan walked to the mirror and flattened his nose against it. Gabe chuckled until he noticed the flash of fear in the boy’s pale blue eyes. He knew the look. Not only had he seen it several times in the past few weeks but remembered it from a lifetime ago in a different city with a different brown-haired boy.
Gabe reached out, put his palm against the glass and tapped. Evan relaxed immediately and went back to the task of building his train community.
“You’re good with him.”
Gabe shrugged. He didn’t feel good with him. Most of the time he felt way over his head.
Dr. Miles continued. “Oftentimes people don’t know what to do with someone with his challenges. But you seem to understand him. Autumn mentioned your brother dealt with anxiety too.”
His mouth went dry. This was not a topic he was interested in exploring. “I get why he needs to make sure I’m still around but the police thing doesn’t make sense. They came by today to fill me in on the investigation. I told him they were coming. He ran and hid. Most kids think of cops as the good guys.” His voice trailed off.
“How was he when you found him?”
“Crawled up in a ball in the back corner of his closet. It took me almost an hour to find him. Even peed in his pants. I ended up sitting in there with him telling him stories before he finally came out. He’s having nightmares every night. They’re getting worse, not better.”
“It seems like it. Has Evan been taking his medication as prescribed?”
Gabe thought of the pill box Autumn had set up. “Every morning after breakfast.”
“It could be because of the murder. He may associate the police with bad things like some people associate hospitals with death. With anxiety we might not always understand the why. Sometimes it’s better to help him figure out how to cope with it first before trying to delve into the causes.”
“How do I do that?”
“Remind him when he gets anxious to work on his breathing. Pay attention to him and try to understand what soothes him, like you did when you sat in the closet with him and told him stories.”
Evan pushed the train up and down the tracks. “He’s a great kid. Does his chores even when I tell him he doesn’t have to. Cleans up after himself. But he doesn’t smile or laugh or even talk much. He’s just…”
“Not a kid?”
“Yeah.”
“What he has told me is the house is always surrounded by strangers, the police and media. It’s been very overwhelming. School had been a temporary escape for him until the summer break started. Which could explain why he’s getting worse. My worry is his anxiety might snowball in the next few months. Have you considered taking him away from the situation for a while?”
Being away from the house was the last thing on his radar. Gabe shook his head. “Not an option. I need to be here. They have no suspects and Evan needs to be near his mother.”
She tilted her head and squinted her eyes. “Has Evan gone to the cemetery since the funeral?”
Gabe shook his head again. “He won’t get out of the car.”
She nodded but didn’t respond.
He rubbed the tense muscles in the back of his neck as his face heated. “Even if we did leave, I wouldn’t know where to go.”
“You’re from out of town. Why not take him to your home? The police could call you if they needed something. It would give you a chance to build a relationship with him outside of all this chaos. This might help you both.”
Gabe didn’t respond. Denver wasn’t home. He hadn’t had one in a very long time.
Evan walked back to the glass and crushed his face against it a second time.
Gabe’s chest tightened. The kid’s life had gone to shit for no good reason. If anyone knew what it felt like, it was him. He tapped on the window. “I’ll think about it.”
Cabinets opened and slammed down the hall. Gabe checked the clock on his phone. It was almost three in the morning. What was the kid up to? He turned on his side, trying to find a comfortable sleeping position on the most uncomfortable couch ever made. Currents of pain shot through his back and hips.
Fuck.
He considered giving up on the couch and using Autumn’s bed. The prospect left a sour taste in his mouth. Pulling the blanket up to his chin, he tried to go back to sleep. Instead, his mind drifted.
Her home was small—too small and furnished with the bare minimum. But she never complained about it. In fact, she had done the opposite, raved about how perfect it was for her and Evan. That was Autumn—always grateful. If he had known, he’d have come up with more money and made them buy something nicer, newer, in a better part of town. Guilt crept back into his thoughts. So many things could have been different, if he had only paid attention.
Did she know the person who killed her? She must have, why else would she have pulled over on the side of road?
Evan’s door creaking interrupted Gabe’s thoughts. Little feet padded across the living room floor. Something dragged down the hall. He kept his eyes closed and pretended to sleep. It wasn’t until the washing machine lid slammed shut that he decided he’d better get involved.
Bolts of fire exploded around his hips when he climbed off the sofa. He rubbed the arc of his back and made his way to the kitchen. Enough was enough, as soon as the furniture shops opened, he’d buy a new fucking sofa and burn the current one.
Gabe leaned around the bar into the kitchen. The light in the utility closet was on. Evan kneeled on top of the washer peering into the built in cabinets above the machine. It was easy to figure out what inspired the early morning escapade. Sheets from the boy’s bed were a wrinkled mess on the floor and he wasn’t wearing the same pajamas he went to bed in.
He considered walking away and pretending he hadn’t noticed until the little fingers grabbed hold of the bleach bottle instead of the laundry detergent. Instead, Gabe turned on the kitchen lights. “Morning.” Evan froze with product in hand for a brief second. A pair of blue eyes, as big as hockey pucks, zeroed in on Gabe and looked like he was considering running. Gabe walked over and stood behind, ready to catch him if he fell back.
“Three o’clock in the morning seems like a great time to do laundry, doesn’t it?”
His face flushed, the boy nodded.
“I have some stuff to wash too. How about I help you down from there and get my things?”
“I might break your back.”
Gabe raised his brows. He hadn’t realized he’d been obvious about his aches. “I think I can handle you.”
He took the bleach from Evan and put it on the dryer. With his arms wrapped around the boy’s waist, he planted the tiny feet on the ground. Outside of some shoulder pats and head rubs, this was the first time he’d been able to touch the kid in the three weeks they’d been together.
He picked up the linens from the floor. “Washing sheets?”
Head down, Evan pulled at the skin around his fingernails. “Yes, sir.”
“Any particular reason?”
“They got wet so I thought I’d clean them.”
“Good thinking. My brother used to spill water on his sheets a lot when we were kids.”
Through his overgrown bangs, the kid looked up at Gabe for a second before fixing his gaze back on the invisible spot on the floor.
“Hey, Sprout, did your PJs get wet when you spilled the water?”
He nodded.
“How about you toss them in the pile? Might as well get them cleaned too.”
Another nod.
“Have you ever done the laundry before?”
This time he shook his head.
“Okay, well I’m not a big rule maker but I think this one probably needs to be set.” Gabe picked up the bleach. “See this bottle?”
He looked up at the container in Gabe’s hand.
“It’ll turn these nice red sheets of yours pink. Did you want pink sheets?”
Evan’s eyes widened but he didn’t respond.
“Oh, and it’ll burn your skin too if you spill it. So the rule is never use the bleach. Okay?”
“Yes, sir.”
Gabe bit back the urge to tell him to not call him that. At least he was speaking. “Why don’t you go get your PJs and I’ll get this load started?”
By the time they had all the clothes in the wash and the machine running, neither of them were sleepy. He pulled out a carton of chocolate cookies from the pantry, set it on the table, grabbed two glasses and poured each of them some milk before sitting down. “Have a seat.”
Evan sat across from him, his hands in his lap. His big blue eyes trailed the Oreo Gabe waved around.
“My brother and I used to sneak to the kitchen while everyone else slept and wipe out the cookie jar.”
He dipped it into the milk and took a bite. “Really good cookie by the way. Want one? I hate eating alone.”
“I’ll eat one if it helps you not feel bad.”
Gabe swallowed his sip of milk and the laugh threatening to escape. “Thank you. I appreciate you thinking of me.”
He slid the carton over. After Evan dunked two into his glass and bit into both at once, he continued. “When my brother was little, he used to get nervous around things, a lot like you.”
He tossed the kid a napkin to wipe the chocolate mush accumulating on the corners of his mouth. “We kind of had a method to help him.”
“What did you do?” Evan mumbled through his mouthful of cookie.
“He’d grab my hand. How hard he squeezed would tell me how nervous he was. If it felt like my bones would break I knew I needed to do something ASAP.”
Evan stared at him in wonder. “Did it work?”
“Every time.”
“He was lucky to have a brother like you.”
Gabe’s mouth went dry. The cookie suddenly felt like leather. He took a gulp of milk and pushed it down.
“I don’t know about lucky but I did the best I could.” His eyes lingered on the boy. God willing, this time he wouldn’t fuck things up. “I could do the same hand thing with you. If you’d like?”
Evan stared at his milk. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to. Here, give me your hand.”
He hesitated but finally put his little palm into Gabe’s enormous one.
“Pretend you saw a clown. How hard would you squeeze?”
He gave the hand a small quick press. “Good. That means it’s not too bad. Okay now a police officer.”
Evan bore all his strength down on the hand so hard, his little face turned red. Although it didn’t hurt, Gabe played it up. “Oww.”
The little guy’s mouth dropped and he jerked his hand away.
Gabe waved his palm, as if shaking the pain off. “No, I’m fine. You’re strong.”
Evan sat a little straighter and smiled.
“So we have a deal?”
He nodded.
Gabe got up from the table and went to the sink. “Good. Now I need a favor from you.” He rinsed out the glasses, his back to Evan. “Call me Gabe, not sir.”
When the boy didn’t respond, he shrugged. “Or at least consider calling me Gabe.”
Evan cleared his throat as Gabe dried his hands.
“Gabe?”
He looked over his shoulder. “Yeah?”
“What’s your brother’s name?”
“Mathew.”
The little guy smiled. “‘Mathew Evan Briggs. Taken too early. Loved by all. We’ll miss you, Sprout.’”
Gabe leaned against the counter. His face heated with emotion.
“Whenever we go to Tyler, we visit him in the cemetery. Momma said he would have been proud of me if he had ever met me.”
“True, he would have.” Gabe’s voice came out hoarse as he searched the kid’s face. How much did he know? Evan was too busy wiping the crumbs off the table to notice. “Did you go to Tyler a lot?”
“Yeah. Summer. Thanksgiving. Christmas. My nana lives out there.”
Autumn spent the holidays with his mom and went to visit his brother’s grave? What other secrets had she kept from him? And for that matter, when he’d seen his mother at Autumn’s funeral, the old lady hadn’t said a word, probably because he’d made it clear she needed to stay far away from him and the kid. His head throbbed from all the information. As nice as it was to converse with Evan, this was not a topic he wanted to discuss further.
“Where did your momma keep the extra sheets?”
“They’re all dirty. I looked.”
The two walked to the living room. Gabe pointed at the sofa from hell. “How about you sleep here.”
After tucking Evan in, Gabe turned off the light and settled in on the floor. He stared up into the darkness. Aside from the ticking of the clock on the wall, the space was silent.
“Did your mom ever tell you the story of how I met her?”
“No, sir, she didn’t.”
“She was sixteen and had really short blue hair.”
He giggled. “Naw ahh.”
Gabe closed his eyes and savored the sound. It was the first time he’d heard it.
“Kid you not. I asked her if someone had taken a bag of blue cotton candy and mushed in onto her head.”
His giggle dissolved into a full-blown, heart-melting laugh.
“She was so mad,” Gabe continued, hoping he’d keep laughing. “She came up to me with her arms crossed and chewed me out.”
“She still does that even now,” Evan said.
Gabe cringed. The room fell silent. When the kid started sniffling, he considered going over and hugging him but decided against it.
“I miss her,” Evan whispered.
“I bet. She was an amazing mom.” He searched for something to say. “Your momma sent me pictures of you all the time.”
“Really?”
“Yup, she was proud of you.”
“Momma was proud of you too.”
Gabe swallowed down the rising emotion. The woman was a saint.
“She said you were one of the nice guys,” Evan added.
He paused and considered the kid’s words. “Did you ever meet guys who weren’t nice?”
The boy didn’t respond. This time the silence was uncomfortable and for the hundredth time, Gabe got the sense the kid knew more than what he was saying. “If you ever do run into one of the bad ones, come find me. One squeeze and I’ll take care of it.”
The room was quiet for a few minutes before Evan spoke. “Gabe?”
“Yeah, Sprout?”
“I wish you had come sooner.”
A tear crept out from the corner of Gabe’s eye. “Me too, little man. Me too.”