Page 16 of Crave

“Right. Let’s go then.”

Grant busted open the lock as if it were nothing more than a damn bow holding the door closed. In my mind, I always knew what he was capable of, but I had to admit it totally turned me on to see his ninja skills in person.

Grant rolled up the steel door, revealing all the dust and spiders. My first step was toward a small box I’d shoved in the back of the locker just in case Joaquín visited the unit. I trusted Joaquín, of course, but I hadn’t wanted him to go through that box. I’d never told him I’d been pregnant and didn’t want him to find out that way. I opened the box and found the manila envelope where I’d kept all my pregnancy records.

Grant sat beside me, and we looked at blood tests, ultrasounds, and invoices. He gazed longingly at the final ultrasound, and I had to close my eyes to stop the tears from welling up. I remembered what it felt like to have my son in my belly, the joy of counting his kicks, the thrill of seeing him on the doctor’s screen. Hopefully, I would replace those memories with better ones.

When I reached the bottom of the pile, I expected to find another stack of paperwork, but there was nothing.

“That’s weird. I swore I put the hospital papers in this envelope.”

Grant grabbed the pile and rapidly thumbed through the papers. “They’re not here. Did you put them in another file?”

“No. This was the only one I brought that day. I must’ve misplaced it—my memory is so hazy. I was a wreck after he died.”

Grant clenched his jaw. “Or . . . Joaquín could’ve taken them.”

“What? Please don’t start with me again. Why on earth would Joaquín take my paperwork? He didn’t even know I was pregnant. Maybe I left them at my old apartment.”

But I remembered bringing them here. I had sat in almost this exact spot and read the words: infant not compatible with life. I didn’t read them once or twice. No. I read them a thousand times through my tear-blurred eyes, clutching my belly, trying to convince myself to keep living a life without my son.

“Maybe whoever kidnapped my baby followed me here and took them? You picked the lock? If someone can kidnap a newborn, they would probably be capable of picking a lock, too.”

“You know who taught me to pick locks? Your brother.” Grant shook his head and grabbed another box. I was too spent to argue with him. But I was sick of him blaming Joaquín for every bad thing that had ever happened to me.

I quickly migrated to the old photo albums, losing myself in memories. Joaquín and I at the park, Joaquín and I holding hands on my first day of school, Joaquín and I posing near the Christmas tree. But then I focused on some older pictures. Pictures of my parents. I found one of my mom when she was pregnant with Joaquín and another of my father holding me as an infant. I couldn’t find any of my mom pregnant with me. Nor could I find any of my father holding Joaquín as a baby.

I grabbed an album and turned to Grant, who was knee deep in some old papers. “I can’t do this right now, I need a break. I’m going to run and get some coffee.”

He threw me the keys. “Okay. I’ll be here when you get back.”

I didn’t even kiss him goodbye. I jumped in the car and drove away from my past. I hoped Grant found whatever he was looking for. All I knew was that who I was looking for, our son, was nowhere in that storage unit full of memories.