“CALEN!” His mother screeched, going full supersonic in pitch, at him, but he still didn’t move. He looked like he was ready to cry. I moved, Devin following right next to me. I was in front of him, hand on his shoulder, trying to get the kid to look me in the eyes.
“Can I stay here? I don’t want to go home right now,” his head hung as he asked his question, and gave his reason. I tilted my head at him, the question already poised on my tongue to ask why, when he pulled up his long sleeves.
Bruises.
Hand-sized bruises littered his arm.
He unzipped his hoodie, lifting his shirt to show more bruising on his torso. The marks weren’t big, but they wouldn’t need to be if they were the size of a woman’s fist. I could feel my face get red, and I’m sure I looked pissed, possibly even feral as I spun on Vivienne standing at the end of the hallway. I was on her so fast she pressed the elevator button harder, repeatedly until the doors opened and she stumbled back into it.
“I’m reporting you to the program! To the police! To CPS! I’m taking him to the hospital, to get that documented! I’mcalling my lawyer! You don’t deserve that boy!” I shouted at her, as I pointed to where Calen stood looking smaller than he should have at fifteen. The doors closed and it was all I could do not to slam my fist into a wall! I was so pissed and needed to let the anger out somewhere.
“Come near him again, and I swear I’ll ruin your fucking life you pathetic piece of shit!” I hissed low enough that Calen and Devin wouldn’t hear, but that she knew I was serious.
But Calen didn’t need to see that. He needed a safe, stable adult who wouldn’t hurt him. Who he could relax around. I walked back to Devin and Calen, breathing deeply as I approached them.
“Come on, you can come into my place. We were about to make breakfast. What do you like?” I felt Devin step away from my approach, going over to Calen to offer her support to him. I also knew she’d be helpful with the case being a pediatric emergency room doctor.
“I dunno. I usually just have cereal. But sometimes there’s no food in the apartment, so I just wait until lunch at school. It’s no big deal. I know kids are expensive.”
My glare at the spot on the wall over my door that I chose to focus on, darkened. I motioned for them to head inside while I grabbed my phone out of my pocket and called 9-1-1. I asked for CPS and an officer, too.
What the fuck is this shit?! How am I in this? How dare she lay hands on that boy!
Chapter Thirty-Five:
Devin’s POV
What the fuck had I just witnessed?That womanwas the mother of Cash’s Little Brother from the program?Her?!She was crazy as hell! Definitely worse than bare-back Becky! This brand of crazy actuallyhurther own child. She left fist sized bruises and marks on him! How did you do that as a mother? How did you hit your child hard enough to do that and feel nothing? Cash was on the phone with emergency services as I took Calen into the apartment with me.
I left him standing in my living room for a moment while I went to my room and grabbed a pair of pajama pants, tossing them on so I was less exposed. This wasnotthe kind of drama we were expecting first thing this morning. I came back out to see Calen standing in the kitchen, leaning against the island. His head was down, as he drug his sleeve under his nose, wiping away evidence of his upset mood. He looked around like he wasn’t sure if he could trust anything or anyone. I knew the boy was probably more comfortable in Cash’s apartment because he’d been there before, spent most of his afternoons and evenings there.
He’d never been to mine, because I’d always gone to Cash’s place when I heard them.
“You okay?” I asked, softly, not trying to put too much pressure on him to talk. I was hopeful that he’d actually want to talk to me, but I didn’t get my hopes up. This wasn’t about me.
“That was a lot out there,” I said absentmindedly as I changed directions and went into the kitchen. I caught himnodding over my shoulder, not looking at me, the floor being the most fascinating thing.
I started going around the kitchen, pulling out mixing bowls, spatulas, both rubber and the flipping variety, as well as eggs, bacon, hashbrowns, spinach, shredded cheese, ham chunks, mushrooms, chopped green pepper, and chopped green onion. I paused looking at the ingredients, and decided to pull out pancake mix and chocolate chips.
Because who doesn’t love chocolate chip pancakes? Sound logic.
“How does pancakes or omelets for breakfast sound?” He just nodded again. Hmm…this kid was proving to be a tough nut to crack today. Given the circumstances, I couldn’t blame him in the slightest, though.
“How do you like your eggs? Scrambled or omelet?” I asked. He just looked at the counter, so I kept talking, trying to ease the tension by not talking about the real issues. Giving him time to process or to gather himself.
“I’ve got everything for an omelet. Ham, shredded cheese, onion, peppers and mushroom, spinach, the works,” I rattled off, watching him for a spark, a hint, anything that showed he was listening, but he gave me nothing. My countertop must have been incredibly interesting, more than I thought for a teenage boy. Maybe it was the design or material it was made out of.
“I’m going to fire up the griddle for the pancakes and bacon,” I said, pulling the flattop out from under my oven. I set it on the counter and started mixing up the batter.
“I also have juice, water, milk, and…oh! Chocolate sauce if you want to make your own chocolate milk. It’s something I’vebeen craving lately. There is also Nutella and peanut butter if you want to put it on your pancakes. And syrup! Hmm…I don’t have much fresh fruit though. I haven’t been to the store in a couple of days. I usually hit the grocery store on the weekends I’m not scheduled at the hospital.”
A knock at the door startled me out of my ramblings as I tried to keep my hands busy. I started cooking as the door opened and Cash poked his head in. He looked around and saw us in the kitchen, giving a quick half smile, there and gone before it fully registered. Calen still hadn’t moved from the spot he stopped walking.
“Officers will be here soon to talk to you Cal. And they want to see the video, babe.” I nodded at him as I picked out my omelet stuff. He walked in, leaving the door slightly ajar, and came over, looking at all the food I’d pulled out of the fridge as his hands gently caressed my waist.
“Could you make me an everything omelet, please, love?” He kissed my head before he went back to the door, waiting for the officers. I nodded, smiling as I watched him walk away from me. I grabbed a little of everything, making his omelet before mine while I was feeling all nostalgic and gooey inside. I knew this wasn’t the morning we had envisioned for ourselves after all the activities last night, but I had no idea how he could still be so wonderful when it wasn’t even eight-thirty in the morning, and he was managing it without any caffeine.
He’s such a good guy. How did I get so lucky with him?
