Changing Ben's diaper was harder than I could have ever imagined. I couldn't hold my nose closed and do it at the same time, and then piss flew everywhere. A long arc of it splashed over the walls and floor. Meanwhile, Addison was watching in a fit of giggles as I jumped away from the little pisser’s targetpractice.
We cleaned up as best we could. The house had no tissues or paper towels or cleaning fluid I could find. Then Addison carried in a worn out quilt from her bedroom and asked for me to tell her a story because she wastired.
“Do you have any bedtime storybooks I could read toyou?”
“I don’t have any storybooks,” she saidsleepily.
My heart just broke. It made a cracking sound, and it burned inside my rib cage and spread out and up to my collarbone. Keeping a little girl away from storybooks was like starving her of imagination andcreativity.
"Oh, okay." My voice trembled with sympathy and despair. These children were forgotten here. Even if someone had been home, they’d forgotten about what a child needs to be achild.
“Once upon a time, long ago there lived a little girlnamed…”
Before I could even say any of the Disney princess’s names I could remember, Addison was out cold. Wish I could get to sleep that fast—I could bottle it up and sell it—it usually took me a few glasses of red wine to stop the insanity in my head when I tried tosleep.
I slid off the couch and pulled out my phone. I’d waited long enough and given my neighbors way too much time without calling it in, but instead of calling 911, I called the only person I knew who would get why this situation would hurt me so much: RyanCage.
"Get your ass over here, Pop Tart; there's no party unless you'rehere."
That was how he greeted me on the phone. No hello. No hey, are you okay? The ass just called me Pop Tart, because that's what I ate forbreakfast.
“Cage.” My voice cracked. I had been trying to hold it together in front of Addison and Ben—not that Ben was old enough to understand—but I was beginning to feel the panic then. Panic and rage. “Cage. I have an abandoned baby here. And a four-year-old. Someone left them, and I don't know who to call to make this okay forthem."
“Where areyou?”
“Across the street from myhouse.”
“We’re comingnow.”
The phone clicked off instantly. If he were already at the party, he'd be about twenty to thirty minutes out. I looked down at my watch. It was just past eight. The party had started at seven; he was definitely already there. I shoved my phone back into my purse and felt the weight of it dragging me down like stones in water. I rubbed my sweaty palms on the silky material of my dress and cursed myself for getting all dolled up and thinking getting laid was importanttonight.
I paced around the room, looking for anything that would tell me where the hell to find the mother to thesekids.
“Who the fuck are you?” The voice was deep andunsure.
I whirled around, almost falling forward at the sight of the man hunkering like some brooding filthy monster in front of me. He was covered in black crud and smelled like gasoline. His arms were decorated with grease, smudges of oil and dirt, and a shining gold wedding band on his left ring finger. He had a pair of dark eyes that looked both angry and terrified. His body was thick and covered in tight muscles, his big, strong hands pulled into tight fists. I wanted to wrestle him to the carpet and cuff him to my bed. Under the grease and grime, his forearms were covered in tattoos. Words and pictures. I wanted to read hisstory.
“I’m just going to ask one more time. Then I’m calling the cops. Who the fuck are you? Where’s mywife?”
“I’m Detective Callie Ward. And I know just as much as you do on the whereabouts of your wife. What I do know is that these children were left alone since breakfast and got so hungry, they crossed a street by themselves to come and gethelp.”
That’s when the big, hulking heap of a man collapsed to his knees in front ofme.
