Page 24 of Defending A Promise
“Really? That’s great because the best that all the five of us could come up with is we needed to have food and beer. I’m sure there’s more to it than that.”
She laughs at him, “A bit. I’ll have some ideas for themes, catering, games, and a budget by Wednesday’s meeting.”
We’re both surprised by that. “That fast?” I ask.
Jax sees someone and waves. “Gotta go, but this one’s a keeper, Declan. See ya at work tomorrow. Bye little man.” He knuckle bumps Nicholas and he giggles.
“Who was that? Was that your boss?” He asks me.
“He seems to think he is sometimes. No, he’s my partner. We work together as police officers.”
“You’re a real for real police officer?” His mouth is wide open, and his artwork forgotten.
“I am.”
“Do you have a police car with a siren?”
“I do.”
“Can I see it?”
“We’ll see. You’ll need to eat all your chicken fingers, though. It makes you big and strong.”
Nicholas looks down at his plate and grabs the last part of his last chicken finger and stuffs it in his mouth. “Othay” he says with a mouth full of food.
Suddenly, the enormity of what these two have been through in the last few years hits me and I realize she’s been doing this all by herself. And doing a pretty damn good job. She’s got through the loss of her twin, a pregnancy, birth, raising a terrific kid, andbuilding a business all without support or help. And all of that while fighting a stalker who thinks this kid is his and wants to take him from her.
Strong. Not geeky. Strong is how I would describe Riley.
Silently, I say a little prayer to River for bringing her back to Hibiscus Harbor – back home – where I can be her support system and protect them both from this psycho.
‘I’ve got them, man. I promise.’
Chapter 11
Riley
Last night, after dinner, Declan asked me if he could talk to the detectives on my behalf and tell them the entire story of what’s happened over the last four years. Of course, I gave him permission and silently I am thankful to have him on my side. I’m anal enough that I have been documenting everything since the beginning and gave Declan copies of the emails, screenshots of the social media posts, pictures of the notes I’ve received, copies of all the police reports I’ve filed, and the timeline I’ve been keeping since this all started.
Having someone on my side is a relief. Even though my parents have always believed me, it’s nice to have someone from the outside looking in that sees what this guy is doing and how wrong it is. I knew that the police in Atlanta could only do so much, but it’s also so frustrating having these kinds of threats against not only me, but my son, too, and no one can do a damn thing to stop it. It’s terribly frightening and god knows how much sleep I’ve lost over it. There have been countless nights I’ve either slept in my son’s room or just outside his room just to make sure he’s safe and protected.
Declan offering for Nicholas and me to stay with him is a blessing and a relief. Honestly, after seeing that note on theinside of the front door at my parents’ house – I wasn’t sure where we were going to go to keep Nicholas safe. I just knew I didn’t want to leave Hibiscus Harbor. I wasn’t lying last night at dinner when I told Declan I was happy to be home again. And I was only half kidding when I mentioned leaving the country and jetting off to Europe or the Bahamas or someplace far away. At what point will this asshat get the hint or get tired of chasing us? I just don’t know, but I do know I’m tired of being scared and of running. Running isn’t going to fix this.
Declan left for work at the police station first thing this morning, taking my car instead of his truck. He expects me to drive his monster truck around. I’m not too sure if I can because it’s so big, but then again, I suppose I could just run over anyone in my way. That sounds like fun.
“Mommy!” Nicholas runs into the living room where I’m firing up my laptop to start sending emails out to potential clients – including Ian’s assistant Mrs. Wilcox – and start planning the Labor Day event at Hooplas. I wasn’t kidding when I told Declan at dinner last night that we’re already behind the eightball to get this thing going in time for the holiday weekend.
“Hey baby. Are you playing with Bella?”
“Yeah, but I’m bored. When can I go back to school?”
“You like your new school?”
“Yeah. They have tunnels to play in and Joshua is nice to me.” My son kicks his feet as he stands next to me.
I don’t want to let him out of my sight, but I also don’t want to keep him from learning and playing. He’s creating roots, too. “How about we go later this morning so Mommy can run some errands? How does that sound?”
“Yay!” He pumps his little fists in the air.
