Upper Hand (Cedar Tree Book 5) (6 page)

“Look, Beth, you don’t need to do this. I mean, I really appreciate it and all, but I don’t want you to be put out. I’ll manage.”

Trying hard not to feel it as rejection, I take a minute to filter my thoughts.

“I know I don’t need to. That’s not why I’m here. Actually, I’m not sure why I’m here, just like I wasn’t sure what I was doing at the hospital. All I know is I have to do this for me. Let me?”

Opening myself up like that causes a sliver of anxiety to snake up my spine, but now that I’ve made the decision to show myself, I’m not going to back down. Not even the long steady glare I’m subjected to is going to change my mind. It may shake it a little, but not change it. After what feels like along time, but was likely no more than a few seconds, Clint nods once and disappears into the hallway.

I slump back down in the couch that we’d been sharing just moments before. Holy crap.

Ten minutes later, when I hear a soft but steady snore coming from the room at the end of the hall, I slip into the bathroom and finally find relief from the constant gurgling and popping of my belly all night. I better start watching what I eat if I’m going to survive staying here without embarrassing myself thoroughly.

“H
ello?”

It’s still dark outside when I open my eyes after the shrill ring of my cell phone wakes me. In a scramble to find the damn thing on the floor beside the bed, I knock over the lamp that sits on the floor with a loud crash. Dammit. So much for trying not to wake Clint. A goddamn nightstand would’ve come in handy.

“Ma? Where the hell are you?”

“Dylan? What’s wrong? It’s five o’clock in the morning.” I point out after a quick glance on my phone screen.

“I’m at your house. I need a favor.”

“I’m sorry—you’re where?”

“At your house, Ma. And you’re not here.” He’s starting to sound irritated, which only pisses me off more.

“Nope, I’m not. What the heck, Dylan? What is it you need? What’s going on?” I can hear the panicky edge in my voice but I can’t stop it. He’s freaking me out.

“Ma, I gotta get back in time for work or I’ll lose my job. I have Max with me. Tammy left yesterday. Just took off, leaving Max behind, but clearing out every last penny from my last paycheck. Can you look after him for a couple of days until I get sorted?”

My head is spinning with all the information he’s slinging at me.

“Wait—Tammy left? Just like that? Did she say anything?” I fire off questions as soon as they formed in my head, not giving Dylan much of a chance to respond.

“Jesus, Ma. I gotta get goin or I’ll be late. Can I explain to you later? You coming home?”

“You’re gonna have to give me ten minutes, I’ll be there in ten, okay?” I’m already out of bed and stumbling toward the bathroom by the time I hang up, when my path is blocked by a very large bulk. Not seeing much more than a shadow, I let out a scream and swing my arm with the phone in my hand, connecting with a solid wall of muscle.

“Beth! Christ, woman, it’s me. What the heck is going on?”

Clint. Of course, the crash of the lamp must’ve woken him up if my nasty ringtone hadn’t already. He grabs me by the arms, as much for his own stability I suspect, as mine.

“Something’s up with Dylan. He’s apparently at my house dropping off Max. Something about Tammy up and leaving last night. He sounds panicky, says he can’t afford to lose his job, which he will if he doesn’t get back to Durango in time for work. I gotta go.”

I try to push past him, but he holds me firm.

“Why not tell him to come here?” Clint asks.

“I was trying not to wake you. I thought I’d be back before you got up. Look, I’ve got to pee and then I gotta go.”

This time he lets me go but not without a warning.

“Wait for me to get my pants on. You’re not going off half-cocked in the middle of the night without me. You hear?”

It’s only because I need to get to my house fast, that I don’t want to start an argument now. Otherwise his bossy ass would get it both barrels. I slam the door shut, quickly relieve myself, and brush my teeth before nearly barreling into him again as he comes out of his bedroom, this time pushing the walker in front of him and wearing clothes.

“Get dressed,” he barks and I snap out of my stupor and beeline it into  my bedroom, pulling on yesterday’s clothes that I’d left on the end of the bed. By the time I step into the hallway, he’s already walking into the kitchen grabbing the house keys off the counter. I snag my jacket off the dining chair and pat my pocket to see if my keys are in there. With keys in hand, and my phone in my pocket, I join Clint by the open door where he’s waiting. After a bit of a struggle getting the walker folded and in the trunk, we’re off.

“So what exactly did he tell you?” Clint wants to know.

“Not much, just what I said, Tammy left taking what little money they had in the bank but leaving that precious baby behind. Who the fuck does that?” The sudden burst of anger at my daughter-in-law is welcome. It distracts from the niggle of fear that is unsettling my stomach.

“Anything leading up to this? Did you know something was wrong?”

“Something was causing stress, I know that much. But each time I’d try to talk to Dylan, or even Tammy about it, they said everything was fine. Dylan can’t lose his job, Clint. He’s just started making some decent wages after many years of struggling. I know they have debts to pay off.”

I hate it. Hate no longer having control over my kid’s wellbeing. It used to feel so burdensome when he was little and there was no one but me looking out for him, but now—hell, I’d welcome back that kind of control. I have none now. Nothing but the love in my heart to do what he needs me to do so he can ‘sort things out.’ Oh dammit. How is that going to work with Clint? I throw him a furtive glance to gage his mood. Not much better than it had been, but I can’t really blame the man. How the hell am I going to solve this?

“Quit staring at me, woman, and drive. We’ll figure it out.”

Despite his surly mood, I reach over and grab one of his hands resting on his knees and give it a squeeze. Feels good having someone solid to worry with. He squeezes back before putting my hand on the wheel.

“Eyes on the road, hands on the wheel. Reckon I’ve spent plenty of time in the hospital already, not looking for another go,” he grumbles, but I can here a hint of a smile in his words.

“Whatever,” is my intelligent comeback.

-

-

C
hrist, she’s gonna get us killed
.

I’ve never been a good passenger, not since I got my driver’s license at sixteen. It’s been on my lips to tell her to let me drive, but in all honesty, I trust myself even less right now—and that is saying something considering the hair-raising ride she takes me on.

When we pull up to Beth’s place, a strange pickup truck is in the driveway. A man is sitting on the porch steps with a car seat beside him and a toddler in his arms wrapped in a blanket. Never having met Beth’s son, I assume this is him. Beth parks, flings open the car door, and gets out, going straight for the little guy. Sweet isn’t usually a word I’d associate with Beth, but seeing her with her grandson in her arms, snuggling him with a big smile on her face, it’s oddly the only word that comes to mind. Her son, however, is not looking too happy and seems agitated, glancing over to where I’m sitting in the car. When I see him gesturing aggressively toward his mom, I decide it’s time for introductions. Not wanting to end up on my face in the driveway, I manage to get myself and my walker out of the car and make my way over to where their voices are starting to carry.

“What the fuck, Ma? You’re shacking up now? What are you getting out of this? You know he’s just using you, haven’t you learned anything?”

“Dylan! You’re waking the neighborhood, would you simmer down?” Beth tries to keep the little boy in her arms calm while facing off with her son.

“Who is using her?” I turn to Dylan with my eyebrow raised. “From what I can see, you’re the one who calls her at the butt crack of dawn, expecting her to drop everything and come running. And then you have the gall to browbeat her and question her or me about motives?” I’m seething and clenching the handles on the walker tight enough to turn my knuckles white. It’s that or lay that snot nosed, self-righteous punk out on his ass.

“Clint...” Beth puts a moderating hand on my arm, which only pisses me off more.

“You know you shouldn’t let anyone talk to you like that. As if no one can see you for more than a means to an end. I don’t care if he’s your son, he has no right to berate you like that. Come on, let’s take that baby home. Little thing’s about to fall asleep on you.” I point out, watching the little boy fighting to keep his eyes open on his grandma’s shoulder.

“And you,” I turn back to Dylan. “You should grow the hell up. Sounds like you’ve had a rough night, and I get that you’re overwhelmed, but you have no fucking right to take it out on the woman who is saving your ass. And from what I can tell, it isn’t the first time either. Am I right?” From the way the kid lowers his eyes and the slump of his shoulders, I can tell he’s run out of steam. That boy’s got troubles and I get a sneaky suspicion it’s more than his wife leaving. Watching him wrap his arms around his mom and son, that suspicion is only fueled when I hear him talking in a low voice.

“Sorry, Ma. I’m sorry, it’s just all a fucking mess. I’ll sort it—I promise—just look after Max for me, will ya? I’ll be in touch.” With a kiss on his son’s head and only a brief glance in my way, he walks straight to his truck, ignoring his mother’s plea for further explanation, and looking like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Yup, he’s got trouble. I make up my mind to put a bug in Gus’s ear, see what he can find out.

I turn to find Beth standing a little forlorn on her front step with a now sleeping baby in her arms, watching her son drive off, and the worry is etched on her face. She knows it, too.

“Let’s get the baby home,” I say again and her eyes snap to mine.

“But—“

“Let’s get off the lawn, go back to my place, put the little one down and figure it out over coffee. Okay?”

She simply nods and looks around her at the car seat and bag that were left behind on her steps. She tries to balance Max on her shoulder while making a grab for the car seat.

“Here, give that to me,” I reach for the seat and plop it on top of the walker. Beth follows behind with Max and the bag.

“I’ve got to install his car seat.” Beth points out.

“That’s just gonna wake him up. Give him to me.” I slide in the back seat and hold out my arms. After a brief hesitation, Beth leans in to deposit Max in my arms and his little baby body curls up against me easily. For a moment when Beth backs up, our eyes meet and a wan smile slips on her lips.

“That baby looks good on you, Big Guy,” she teases, and I growl in response, which only makes the smile brighter. Good.

-

W
ith Max boxed in with pillows on a quilt on the floor in Beth’s room, we settle in the kitchen with a pot of coffee on the go. Beth’s face is once again lined with worry.

“He’s in trouble,” she says when she catches me watching her.

“I know.”

“It kills me, you know? Having him shut down like that. He’s not usually so closed off and bad-tempered.” She lets out a long shuddering breath, before adding. “Not sure what to do.”

I take a minute to consider my response.

“For starters, we’ll give Katie a call a little later and find out if we can borrow a travel bed, or crib, or something from them, so Max has a safe place to sleep. We can set him up in the other spare room, for now.” Katie is married to Caleb, both operatives for Gus’s company GFI. They worked together for years before their relationship developed into something lasting and they had a little boy, Mattias.

“You want us to stay?” Beth seems surprised and frankly, so am I. I’d been quite convinced I was done with her, especially after finding out she’d been playing nice with my heel of a brother. I hadn’t wanted her here, but now that she is, I can’t envision letting her leave. Not now.

“Seems like a decent enough solution. I mean for both of us. The doc doesn’t seem to think I can fend for myself just yet, not being able to drive and all, and you’re gonna need help looking after the little tyke. Seems like a win-win situation to me.” Even to my own ears it sounds like lame excuse, and the look on her face tells me she’s not sold on it either, but something inside me pushes me to keep her here at all cost. I didn’t like the way her son’s eyes were flicking around, scanning the darkness earlier. Although my gut instincts have let me down in the not so recent past, I’m not about to ignore the nagging feeling that whatever trouble he is in, he might just have dropped it on his mother’s doorstep, as well. Yeah, she and Max were much better off here, where I can keep an eye on them.

“Look,” I reason, “you have a job to get back to sooner rather than later, and it’ll be some time for me to recover completely. You can’t take off work indefinitely, and surely I can come in handy looking after a two-year-old, every now and then.”