“Fucking hell. I should’ve been here.”
“Nobody saw this coming, bud. Least of all CC.”
Quin sighs heavily. “Still. That’s the last time I send another man to do my own damn job.”
A strained chuckle spills from Caleb. “I bet.”
Remembering I haven’t cleaned the mess up, I pace in a fluster, opening cupboards and trying to locate the dustpan and broom.
The paramedic tries to intercept, and I ignore her.
“Someone out there loves you,” she says softly. Her face is all mushy from the sentiment.
“It’s not like that.” I try another cupboard.
“Oh, kind of sounds like it.” She gives me a conspiratorial smile.
Lord . . . small towns.
When I’ve opened every cupboard thrice, I’m blocked by an imposing wall of muscle. “CC,” he says softly, hands closing around my arms. “I’ll clean it up. Let the medic finish. Caleb’s here if I need a hand, okay?”
It’s all I can do to nod as he guides me by the shoulders to the counter stool.
“Almost done, hon,” the paramedic says before dabbing the cut with something that burns and applying a dressing. “That should keep you out of trouble.” She smiles, so genuinely.
But I doubt me and trouble will ever part ways.
I have a knack for letting it hunt me down. I just never thought it would take the form of my own father.
Alzheimer’s—one.
CC—zero.
“You need anything, Celeste?” Caleb asks, hat in hand.
“No. Sorry you had to come all the way across town,” I murmur.
He glances to Quinton. “Boss’s orders.”
My gaze swings between the two. “I?—”
“It was no trouble, I’m just glad you’re alright. Mostly, that is.” Caleb nods and retreats from the doorway. A minute later his truck fires up and the sound disappears down the street.
Quinton is on his hands and knees, sweeping the porcelain shards into the dustpan.
“Quin—”
“Nope, not yet, baby. I need a minute. Go check on your dad.”
Running my bottom lip through my teeth, I turn on my heel, slowly, and head for the living room.
Two paramedics sit with him on the sofa. He was given something to calm down after they arrived. Caleb boxed him in so he couldn’t hurt me again.
And my heart aches for my dad.
He’s shaking his head, his face twisted with emotion as he repeats, “I didn’t mean to hurt her, I didn’t.”
He rocks back and forth on the seat, arms hugged around his body.
