“But they don’t even know me.”
My gut twisted at her confusion. “I told them about you and what an awesome kid you are. They wanted to do something nice for you.”
Zoe’s eyes began to water. If she cried, I wouldn’t be able to handle it. “W-will you tell them thank you?”
“You got it. So, what do you think? Soccer today, or do you want to work on your coloring?”
Zoe beamed. “Soccer. Did you see the ball they got me?”
“They got you a soccer ball?”
She dug through the bag and pulled out a brand-new ball. “Now, I can practice all the time.” Zoe frowned down at the ball. “If the Calhouns let me.”
I tensed at the little girl’s dejected expression. “Are they being nice to you?”
She licked her lips and spun the ball in circles in her hands. “They’re fine.”
It sure as hell didn’t sound fine. I didn’t care what Callie said, if Zoe didn’t look happier about her foster placement soon, I was going to make that unannounced visit. “You know you can tell me if you don’t like it there.”
Her head popped up. “And I can go back with my mom?”
“Sorry, Zo. You can’t go back with your mom right now. Not until she gets some help.”
Zoe hugged the ball tighter to herself. “I don’t think I want to play today.”
“That’s all right. We can do whatever you want to do.”
She nodded and stared down at the ball, tracing patterns with her fingertip on the surface. That was how we spent the next hour. I didn’t push, just sat with Zoe. She was mad but didn’t yet believe that I was a safe place for her to express that anger. But I’d sit with her for as long as it took to gain her trust.
As I helped to load her new belongings into Mrs. Calhoun’s beat-up station wagon, I made sure to snap a picture of the license plate. I knew Child Protective Services put foster families through rigorous checks, but it wouldn’t hurt to do a little digging on my own.
“See you soon, Zoe.”
“Bye, Crosby,” she mumbled and climbed into the car.
A sinking feeling gripped me as I watched them go. And I’d learned not to ignore those feelings.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. Pulling it out, I glanced at the screen. That same six-one-seven area code that had been calling for days stared back at me. Alicia had called and texted six times last night alone. When I’d walked out of Kenna’s guest house at one a.m. and checked my phone, not even a reemergence of my ex could’ve ruined my buzz. But now, in the light of day, hours from when I’d gotten my last hit of Kenna’s skin, her scent, the feel of her around me, it cut a little deeper.
I hit Accept. “When someone doesn’t return your texts or calls, the polite thing is to stop blowing up their phone.”
“Crosby.” Alicia’s voice did that breathy thing it did when she wanted something. I’d always thought it was ridiculous, but four years ago, I’d thought it was adorably ridiculous. Now, it was simply annoying.
“What do you want?” I beeped the locks on my truck and climbed in.
“We need to talk. Can you come to Boston this weekend?”
I laughed, but it had an ugly quality to it. “Only you would think I’d come when you call after you blew my life apart.”
“Crosby…” She was whining now. “I made a mistake. I’m sorry. Isn’t that enough? Brent wasn’t the man I thought he was. But maybe that’s a blessing in disguise. You and I were so good together.”
She made it sound as if she’d forgotten to let the dog out, and it peed on the rug. I’d given my all to this woman. I’d worked endless hours at the firm to make partner because she wanted me to be the best. Now, I could see it was because she wanted the status of being attached to someone at the top. I’d funded endless shopping sprees and vacations. Bought the house Alicia wanted, even though I’d hated it. I’d become a completely different person for her, but even that wasn’t enough.
I’d never forget walking into the Ritz in Boston for a meeting with a client and finding Alicia wrapped around my best friend, their mouths fused as the doors of an elevator closed. It was interesting how one single breath could make a house of cards fall. How you could suddenly realize that the foundation you’d been putting in place was actually set on sand.
Because as soon as Alicia disappeared from my life, so did a lot of other things. Friends had chosen sides, business associates had grown uncomfortable, and the newfound relationship with my parents had gone up in smoke. The truth was that none of what I had built while I was with Alicia was real. Now, I wouldn’t settle for anything less in any aspect of my life.
I gave my head a quick shake, trying to clear the memories. “Don’t call again, Alicia. We’re done. There’s nothing we need to talk about. I want no part of you in my life. If you call again, I’ll block you.” I hit End on my screen and dropped the phone with a satisfying thunk into the cupholder.
I pressed my hands against the wheel, the muscles in my arms bunching and straining as the wheel creaked. I wasn’t wrapped up in that life anymore. I never would be again. I was free. The life I had now had no constraints, no rules. I needed a reminder of that. I glanced at the clock on my dashboard. It was almost five-thirty. Too late to get any decent climbing or mountain biking in, but I had something else in mind anyway.
An electronic bell sounded as I pulled open the door to Cornerstone CPAs. It was a small building, nothing on Anchor was exactly huge, but it looked as if it housed quite a few offices. A young woman behind the front desk blinked a few times as she took me in. “Hello, can I help you? Crosby, right?”
“Yes, I’m looking for—”
“Mr. McCoy, it’s good to see you. Have you come to talk about bringing your business to Cornerstone? You know I’d be happy to take you on as a personal client.”
I winced at the man who’d stepped into the reception area. Chris Woodward, manager of this branch of Cornerstone, had come to see me not long after I’d settled on Anchor and set up my law office. I had no doubt that he’d heard I’d bought a house on the bluff and came from east coast money. The man had been smarmy and grasping. I’d been planning to find a local accountant, but two minutes with this man had me staying put with my CPA in Boston.
“Sorry, Chris. I’m here on personal business.” I sidestepped the man and headed through the open space dotted with cubicles, weaving through until I found one of the nicer offices with a familiar name on the door. I knocked.
“Come in.”
Of course, Kenna was one of the handful of people still here at a few minutes past six. I pushed the door open, and a healthy dose of lust shot through me at the sight of her. Kenna stood behind her desk, looking as if she’d been organizing papers into stacks. I’d seen Kenna in her work get-up before, and it was always tempting, but today’s outfit might just be the death of me. She’d lost her blazer at some point during the day, and it now hung neatly on a hanger on the side of a filing cabinet. Without it, she was left in a white blouse that dipped slightly in the front, strands of gauzy fabric tied in an oversize bow over her breasts.