Chapter 29: Chapter 29

Beck

I parked the car and stashed the keys. As I walked away from it, I texted Misty that it was done. She would text Negan now, and we could go about the rest of our evening undisturbed. As I walked the two blocks home, the scent of pizza caught my attention, reminding me of a moment I spent with Adelaide after everything had fallen into place for her new life. It was a soft glimpse of the person these two loved. Hope had given her a reprieve from her mate’s hold on the bond between them. I ducked into the shop, coming out fifteen minutes later with a small stack of pies and some canolies. Cricket had eaten, but Misty had barely touched her food, encouraging us to eat. I saw right through it. Every time the milk got low, or the toilet paper neared its end, there was a moment of panic. Even though I promptly tried to keep up with things as they ran out, knowing my presence must be putting some pressure on the household, I realized she couldn’t help the response. Trauma was a wicked thing. Even years after I saved a woman, she would have to live with the repercussions of what she had been through, leaving little micro stresses that would build the anxiety within her. The least I could do was bring her a proper dinner, and maybe we could talk. I could tell her more about my time with her friend, the better parts, and maybe ease her mind a little bit. I walked into the store and set the pizzas on the counter to go grab some beer and a glass-bottled Mexican Coke for Cricket. I took them up to the evening cashier, a young man more interested in his phone than paying attention to me. He scanned and bagged the items and I juggled them and the pizzas all up the stairs.

When I got home, I messaged Misty.

Me: Made it home, got some pizza and beers

Misty: We will be up in a min

It was after 8. Misty would send Cricket off to bed around 9, where the kid would pass out listening to ambient music. The little girl had told me it helped her sleep, and I couldn’t argue because hearing it in the background definitely helped drown out the sounds of the city to my shifter ears. They came up a few minutes later, surprised to see the boxes strewn across the counter.

“What’s this? Misty asked.

“Second dinner,” I offered.

“So we are hobbits now?” she asked, and for once, a true smile broke free from her carefully constructed facade.

“I’m sure Frodo and Bilbo Baggins would approve,” I found myself joking. Where the hell did that come from? My inner nerd was showing itself tonight.

“Does this mean we get a second breakfast too?” Cricket asked, perking up.

Misty laughed, her eyes shifting to mine, and what met me floored me. The warmth she was always hiding gleaned through. Cricket said something else, Misty blinked, and that breathtaking moment vanished. I, for once, wasn’t following what Cricket was saying, stuck on Misty’s reaction. What had taken away that brilliant warmth that had permeated from her moments ago? Something had triggered her out of that place. I tuned Cricket back in, looking for answers. She was babbling about the upcoming zoo trip. The one she had brought up when we picked her up. Now it made sense. The look Misty had given me in the car earlier. She was afraid of letting her go and pained as a parent because she wanted her to have the same experience as everyone else. This woman warred with every little detail to keep her daughter safe while still letting her have as normal of a childhood that she could provide. Every decision had consequences that the little girl wouldn’t understand and for the first time I truly saw this woman and everything made so much more fucked up fucking sense. She didn’t deserve this weight on her shoulders and Cricket didn’t deserve the confinement that ensured her safety either. Once we got Creedon sorted out, I vowed to lift that weight from her shoulders somehow. Even if I had to slaughter an entire sleuth to make it happen. Little girls and mothers shouldn’t be in fear of desperate, depraved males grasping to maintain a bloodline.

I chose to steer Cricket’s conversation into another one about art class. Her favorite subject. To which she pulled out a pile of artwork for my perusal. For a six year old, I had to admit they were pretty good. Misty sighed and relaxed. When it was time to put Cricket to bed I held my hand up.

“Let me do it,” I suggested quietly, giving Misty a look. She cocked her head giving me a confused look. She thought  for a moment and then nodded, relenting to the request.

When Cricket came down the hall in her carebear PJs I stood.

“Come on, little bear,” let's tuck you in. I knew the routine to a T by now. A chat and a story before the music was turned on. I had a question or two for her anyway.

Cricket looked surprised for a moment looking at her mom for the okay. Misty just nodded at her giving her the approval as I took her little hand in mine and led her down the hall leaving the bedroom door open in case Misty was worried I was someone who I wasn’t. I pulled back the covers and Cricket climbed in and reached over to grab a book off her nightstand. The marked page was three-fourths of the way into the book. I glanced at the cover, “The Secret Garden,” was scrawled across the worn leather-bound book.

“I haven’t read this one. What's it about?” I asked, sitting beside her and leaning against the headboard to get comfortable.

“Mary, she's a bit of a brat in the beginning, but when her parents die, she has to stay with her uncle and her cousin, Colin, who is sick and can't walk. She finds a secret garden that her cousin’s mother used to tend and along with the help of a local boy they are fixing it up,” Cricket explained. We were at chapter 21. I started reading. The cripple boy stood and walked after the children were discovered by the gardener. As I read the last words of the chapter I realized that if Misty didn’t find someone to help Cricket transition her bear would cripple and she could never be all of who she was. Cricket snatched the book from my hands when she saw me turning to get to the next page.

“Only one chapter,” Cricket insisted. I raised my hands in surrender.

“Fine, but I need you to tell me why you don’t like riding the bus home?” I asked. I wanted to get to the bottom of this.

Cricket got quiet. “The dogs don’t like me, they pick on me, say my hair is too messy, and that I’ll never fit in anywhere because my kind are loners and they don’t stand and fight, that I’m so pathetic because my dad didn’t stick around to raise me and my mom is a disgrace and should have never had me. They try to… what does Auntie say… trigger me, make me react. They try to push my buttons but I know mom will be upset if I get into trouble, so I don’t fight back but they keep bothering me.”

“Dogs?”

“They smell like dogs,”

“Wolves maybe?” I ask and she shrugs. This kid really has had no compass I realize. I needed to shut this down.

“They won't mess with you anymore,” I promise, and I meant it but I had to figure out how.

She narrowed her eyes at me in question.

I just gave her a smile before I stood.

“Night kiddo,” I said leaning down as she scooted under the sheets and reached over to turn on the music.