see Justin’s truck still parked at my house. I walked in the house and almost immediately recognized that the tune he was singing at the top of his lungs was Jimi Hendrix’s “Purple Haze.”
Ah, he was in the shower.
That was probably for the best, because I imagined my face was red and splotchy from bawling like a baby. After dropping my purse on the couch, I went to the kitchen and ran cool water in the sink to splash on my eyes. Then I poured myself another cup of coffee and went in the backyard to smoke a cigarette. As much as I’d loved hearing Justin sing, I needed to get my game face back on.
Unfortunately, that was easier said than done. Standing in the cold yard behind my house, I imagined Justin getting out of the shower, probably continuing to sing but a little more quietly. He’d grab a towel and pat down his body before fluffing his hair and wrapping the towel around his waist. Then he’d probably find a stray comb on the bathroom counter. I could see him in my mind, light stubble on his face, teeth gleaming, coffee-colored eyes alive.
Jesus. I definitely loved that man. No wonder Kevin hadn’t had any problems seeing it.
But that was beyond the parameters that Justin and I had established, and I’d do well to remember that. Besides, I really didn’t have time for that bullshit.
My kids. School. Work. Those were my priorities. Especially helping Sarah.
By the time I snubbed out my cigarette and went back inside, I had my head on straight. The kids had left out a box of cereal on the table, so I was tidying up when Justin joined me in the kitchen, fully dressed. “Rascal. How long you been here?”
I hoped my voice sounded light and fun. “Long enough.”
Justin walked right in front of me and kissed my nose. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Let’s just say Hendrix would be proud.”
Grinning, he walked to the cabinet to fetch a mug. As he poured himself a cup of coffee, he said, “You’ve heard me sing before.”
“Not without the radio as backup.”
“Glad I could amuse you.”
“I actually enjoyed it.” Picking up my empty cup, I walked to the coffee pot beside him. “You need to head to work pretty soon?”
“Yeah. What you got planned?”
“Sarah has her appointment today.”
“Oh, yeah.” As he walked to the table and sat down, he asked, “You think she’s gonna be all right?”
“I hope so. God, I hope so.” After pouring creamer in my coffee, I shut the refrigerator and joined him at the table. “So what are you going to do about your girlfriend?”
“Stop calling her that.”
“Ooh. Touchy.”
I loved the way he arched one eyebrow. “That girl and me are gonna have a talk. And I might have to block her number.” I raised my eyebrows, because I personally thought he needed to file a restraining order against her—but Justin already knew what I thought. “Don’t even say it, Rascal.”
“Not a word.”
After swallowing several gulps of coffee, he stood and walked to the sink, placing the mug inside. “I better head into work—unless you wanna get jiggy one more time. I could be late for that.”
“No way. I’m not going to be the reason you get in trouble on the job.”
“It’d make me too sleepy anyway.”
“Then get out of here.”
“See you tonight after class?”
“Yeah.” Whether it was fucked up or not, I needed this man in my life, no matter how he’d take me.
After Justin had been gone for a while, I called Amy the Child Protection worker and asked if I could meet with her. I needed some answers…needed to try to control something, anything in my life. Fortunately, she agreed to meet with me before lunch.
When I got there, she brought me to her office, a small room slightly larger than a closet with a tiny desk that had room for a computer and little else. After we sat down, she asked, “What can I do for you, Randi? Actually, do you mind if I call you Randi?”
“That’s my name. I just wanted to ask you some questions. I’ve been thinking a lot about all of this, just trying to process it all and I wondered…what will happen now? You said you filed a report—but what’s next?”
“I’m glad you asked. Unfortunately, I don’t know exactly what will happen. Chances are the police will pick up Mr. Buckley for questioning. At some point, we’ll go to court. There will be charges filed