“Not yet,” Finn promised. “Do you have a business card? I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting this; I’m just a family friend. I want to make sure you are who you say you are.”
Finally she smiled. “Of course.” She not only passed over an embossed business card, but flashed her employee badge and her driver’s licence to boot, though she kept her finger over the address portion. Smart lady.
Finn checked the number on the business card against the number on the Toronto CAS website, then dialed her extension. When her voicemail picked up and confirmed her name and role, he figured that was the best he could do. He hung up.
“Okay.” He opened the door again and gestured her inside. “Sorry about that.”
“You can’t be too careful,” Zulma replied. “Especially when children are involved. Let’s begin again. I’m Zulma Gutierrez-Hernandez, and you are…?”
Right, okay, yes, handshake. Normal human interaction. Finn could do that. He shook her hand. “Finn Graham.” When she blinked at him, not letting go, he realized she was looking for more information. “I’m a friend of the family,” he reiterated.
Absolutely true even if not the whole truth.
“Good to meet you, Finn. Would you introduce me to Sawyer, please, and I’ll have him give me a tour?”
God, had they left a mess in the bedroom? Surely she wouldn’t go in there anyway, right? She only had to care about Sawyer’s room?
Finn was going to pull his hair out. Or start drinking.
But it would be fine, he reminded himself. Robbie was a fantastic parent. Despite the loss of his mother and the benign neglect of his father, Sawyer was a smart, happy, reasonably well-adjusted kid. The house was safe. The smoke detectors worked—Robbie had been testing them once a week since Vince got arrested, which was probably giving him flashbacks to the burned-pizza incident, but better safe or whatever. There was a security system. Sawyer’s bedroom was no more a biohazard zone than any other teenage boy’s. The fridge and cupboards had food in them.
There might be a little bit of mold in the shower. That was okay, right? Everyone had shower mold.
Everyone had shower mold, right?
Finn strained his ears, but try as he might, he couldn’t make out more than indistinct murmurs from Sawyer’s room. A good sign, he hoped—Sawyer had a set of lungs on him. If Zulma said something to upset him, Finn would know about it pretty quickly.
Should he text Robbie? What would he even say? It wasn’t like he could give a play-by-play; Finn wasn’t even in theroom. Anyway, if Robbie got bombarded with texts, he would panic even more than he probably was already.
When the doorbell rang a second time, Finn was so relieved to have a distraction that he didn’t stop to wonder who might be at the door.
The couple on the front steps looked vaguely familiar, in the way people did where maybe they were a cashier at the local grocery store or a regular at your favourite bar: an older couple, white, her with long, silvering brown hair, him with sharp, angular features and caterpillar eyebrows. They looked taken aback to see Finn.
“Hi,” Finn said when neither of them said anything. “Can I help you?”
“Who are you?” the man demanded.
Finn blinked. “Who areyou?” He might not own the house, but he was the one in it by invitation, and these folks just showed up on the doorstep. If they’d told Robbie they were coming, he would have told Finn.
The woman scoffed and clutched her purse. “We’re family.”
It was at that point that Finn finally realized where he recognized these people from—Robbie and Sawyer. Shit.
Without thinking, Finn swung the door shut. Or tried to, but the man—Robbie’sfather—was large enough to block it open. Finn grimaced and said through his teeth, “Robbie’s not home right now, sorry. Please come again another time.”Like after hell freezes over.
“We’re here for our granddaughter,” the man formerly known as Sawyer’s grandfather said.
“You can’t see your grandsonright now.” Finn tried to stop him from pushing the door open, but the man had physics on his side. The door swung inward, right into Finn’s face.“Shit!” He clasped a hand to his left eye. He’d be lucky if it didn’t bruise.
Dickhead just sneered like Finn should have been manly enough to avoid getting battered.
Then Mr. and Mrs. Dickhead let themselves right into Robbie’s house and demanded to know where Sawyer was.
Finn had to get them the fuck out of here before Sawyer saw them—or worse,heardthem.
“What are you doing in our son’s home?” Dickhead glared, arms crossed. Finn saw where Robbie had gotten his height from, if not his good looks. Finn suddenly wished he’d inherited some of his own father’s size. Sure, he would never have made it as a professional skater, but—
“Being a wanted guest,” Finn snapped.
