Page 12 of Out Of A Fix

“Who are you, and what are you doing in my house?” Darwin yelled.

I took a breath, because I always did before I responded to people who were upset. I never wanted my voice, tone, or decibel level to match theirs. “I’m Nash Miller. I was hired by your uncle Abel to watch over you, your father, your sister, and your brother, as your mother is due to testify in federal court in the coming weeks.”

He sucked in a breath, and the woman rushed over to me, leaving both boys, hand out.

“Hello, Mr. Miller.” The elegant woman with the perfect chignon, makeup, and jewelry smiled warmly. “I’m Cressida Moore, and that handsome young man standing there beside Darwin is my amazing son Theodore, or as we call him, Teddy.”

Teddy groaned like he was going to die. “Mom.”

“Pleasure, and please call me Nash,” I said, shaking her hand, then going into my wallet to show her my ID. After she checked it over, I then showed her the email from Abel Roarke to Luke Duchesne, outlining who I was and how long I would be there.

When she passed me my phone back, her relief was palpable. She’d been playing along, unsure how best to interact with me. Her jaw had been clenched, she’d been holding onto her son’s shoulder, and Darwin’s, before she made the decision to approach, laser focused on me. I could tell she was ready to tangle, even though I had height, weight, and muscle on her. I respected that and saw clearly now that she was no longer concerned, at ease in my presence.

“So you’re going to be here for a bit?”

“I am. Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh, Dar,” Tatum said excitedly as she came into the room in leggings tucked into Ugg boots and an oversize sweater with a hood that had bunny ears. She looked adorable. “This is Nash, and he’s here to watch us.”

He stared at his sister.

“We’re going to the store after we get Griff outta jail.”

“Jail?” he asked his sister, his eyes suddenly big and round.

“No, he’s not in jail,” I corrected what Tatum had related. “He’s in police custody, and he’s a minor. Because of that, he can’t be put in a holding cell with adults.”

“But he could be in his own cell, alone,” Tatum postulated.

Anything was possible. “Yes,” I allowed.

“Okay then,” she said solemnly, her voice dropping low as she turned back to Darwin. “They have him behind bars.”

I squinted at her. Seriously, what was with the voice?

“In the big house.”

“What?” he asked, and I was just as confused.

“I hope they gave him his one phone call and he used it to contact Dad.”

“You have got to stop watching all those crime documentaries,” Darwin warned her.

“Oh, dear Lord,” Cressida gasped. “We’re on our way to church, but if you’d like me to take Dar and Tatum with me, Mr. Miller, I⁠—”

“Call me Nash,” I reminded her. “And I’d prefer that the kids stay with me, but if they⁠—”

“No, no,” Tatum rushed out. “No, God, thank you.”

“Uh, no,” Darwin said quickly. “I refuse to be a hypocrite.”

Cressida huffed out a breath, not happy with those answers, but kept her smile in place for me. “That’s why we’re here. I was dropping Dar off, as he didn’t want to attend service. But I couldn’t, in good conscience, leave him if there was no one home.”

“Well, I’m here, so no worries.”

“Okay, then, Nash,” she said, smiling at me, reaching for my hand again, holding it in hers. “I’ll leave you to it. But please do call if you need anything.”

“Yes, ma’am, thank you so much.”