In a whisper, Loretta asks, “Should I go back? He’s struggling. Maybe if I stood by him and we figured out how to get him some help, we—”
“No!” I blurt out the word.
Loretta turns, baby on her shoulder, greenish-blue eyes wide under dark, perfectly smooth brows.
“No. I know it’s none of my business, but please, no. As a reporter, I have read news stories that have sickened me to my core, and heard interviews that would break your heart. Please don’t become one of those statistics, Mrs. Lane.”
“I don’t know who that is, but he’s smart. Loretta, you need someone to bring you home. Someone to protect you on the way. I’ll meet you wherever you are, and you’ll stay with us while you get a lawyer and a divorce.”
“And a restraining order,” I mutter. If this guy is putting his hands on Loretta now, what’s to stop him from putting his hands on the baby when she disobeys, or even just irritates him? If they end up splitting custody, what’s to stop him from hurting Loretta when she comes to pick up the baby?
“You can’t. Daddy, he’ll follow you. And you can’t use my phone number. I have to keep it off because Matt can track it. I’ll... I’ll get a new phone.”
“We’ll send you money!” her mother cries.
“You can’t. All our accounts are joint. Matt will see it. Matt will freeze them. I...Oh, God. I don’t know what to do.”
“I can put you up as my guest tonight, Mrs. Lane. I can call a friend who has twin toddlers. They’ll have something you can borrow, like one of those portable playpen cribs.”
“I have one in the trunk,” Loretta says.
You hear that? She says she has a crib. She doesn’t say, “No, I’m not staying with you, you stranger creep!”
“Tomorrow, I can drive behind you until you get to a meeting place with your parents if that’s what you decide to do. And you can use my phone for tonight. Tomorrow morning, I can take you to the mall nearby and get you set up with a new phone in your name, or in mine, if you can’t access your accounts.”
Her mouth drops. Her eyes are wide.
She looks like an angel.
Okay, she looks like an angel sent to tempt weak men, a cross between the Madonna and a pin-up girl, with a baby on her hip.
I’m so fucking screwed, so lost to her, and she’ll never be mine. Even if she wanted to be, she’ll be gone tomorrow, and she’ll probably need a few years before she’ll want to date anyone, and...
I wonder if it’s too soon to tell her I’ll wait for her?
“Why would you help me like that?” Loretta demands.
“Because I’m not a monster.”Ha. Lies.“I mean, I’m a decent human being, and I have a house with enough room to offer shelter and enough money to help someone in need. If it’s a pride thing, you can always pay me back. You know where to find me. You could even send it care of WPNR.”
“Honey, if you won’t let us help you, let this young man take you to a hotel, and we’ll send him money to get you a room.”
“That’s unnecessary. My treat,” I say quickly.
Do I sound like I’m trying too hard to help?
Well. I am.
My wolf doesn’t have any throats to tear out, so it’s sitting up straight and begging for head pats, desperate to be called “Good boy” by this angel in red and ruffles.
Loretta gives me the phone. I put it on speaker and talk to her concerned parents for several minutes. I wait on the line while they call Pine Ridge PD and speak to the desk sergeant on duty. I hear the mother in the background exclaiming excitedly that I’m a weatherman and I look like Christopher Reeve—but that I really ought to get a haircut.
It’s nice to see Loretta smile. We both smile, and she rolls her eyes at her mother’s comments. “Sorry,” she mouths.
“I get my hair cut twice a month, ma’am, it just grows so fast.”
“All men should be so lucky,” she says.
“Daddy is going bald.”
