Chapter 179
“I brought reinforcements,” she continued, leaning her forehead against the door. “I have a packet of gummy bears in my purse. The red ones. And I think Uncle G might have some chocolate.”
Silence. Then the click of a lock.
The door creaked open a crack. One red, puffy eye appeared.
“Did you bring the bears?” Aaden whispered.
“I did,” Jocelyn said, holding up the small gold packet.
𝘞𝘦 𝘶𝘱𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘰𝘯 𝘨𝘢𝘭𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘴.𝘤𝘰𝘮
The door swung open. Aaden stood in his pajamas, face blotchy from crying, looking very small. He did not look at his father. He launched himself directly at Jocelyn.
She dropped to her knees on the tile floor and caught him. His arms locked around her neck and he buried his face in her shoulder, smelling of tear-free shampoo and distress.
“Daddy is mean!” he wailed, his voice muffled against her coat. “He threw Mommy away! He hid her picture!”
Jocelyn’s eyes snapped up to Justin. Justin turned his head away, jaw tight.
“Can I live with you?” Aaden pulled back to look at her, his expression urgent. “Please? I don’t want to stay here.”
Jocelyn looked at Gaston. Gaston was watching his brother with a quiet blend of concern and calculation.
“He needs a break, Justin,” Gaston said. “Let him stay with us for a few days. Just until things cool down.”
Justin looked at his son clinging to Jocelyn like a lifeline. He looked defeated.
“Fine,” he said, dragging a hand through his hair. “Keep him off the internet. And no sugar after six.”
“We’ll take care of him,” Jocelyn promised. She stood and settled Aaden onto her hip. He was getting heavy, but she didn’t mind.
They packed quickly. Aaden insisted on bringing his spy kit — a plastic briefcase packed with magnifying glasses and walkie-talkies.
In the car, the rhythm of the windshield wipers was hypnotic. Aaden was asleep within five minutes, his head resting on Jocelyn’s lap. She stroked his dark hair, her fingers light and careful.
“What happened back there?” she asked softly.
Gaston kept his eyes on the wet road. “Justin has ghosts. He doesn’t handle the topic of Aaden’s mother well.”
“Is she really dead?” Jocelyn asked. Aaden had been so certain at the mall. And then there was the photograph.
Gaston tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
“As far as we know,” he said. It was the official line. The one he held for his brother’s sanity. “She died in a car accident in Italy seven years ago. There was a fire. It was conclusive.”
Jocelyn looked down at the sleeping boy. “He’s so convinced.”
“Grief does strange things to the mind,” Gaston murmured.
They arrived at the Collins penthouse twenty minutes later. The elevator opened directly into the foyer.
Jocelyn stepped out and immediately coughed. The air was thick with white dust.
“What the hell?” Gaston waved a hand in front of his face.
The living room was draped in plastic sheeting. A ladder stood in the middle of the hallway leading to the guest wing.
Mrs. Higgins appeared from the kitchen wearing a face mask, which she pulled down as she approached. “Oh, thank goodness you’re home, sir.”
.
.