Broken Halo: The Montgomery Series, Book 2 Page 3

  I’m not sure what more I can handle at this point.

  * * *

  “How many times do you leave him throughout the week?”

  After I coaxed Griffin into taking ibuprofen, he cried himself into a fit and passed out. He’s asleep, lying on my chest with his head lolled on my shoulder and the front of my dress is now covered in dried tears and snot.

  I lower my voice despite the overwhelming need to scream them out of my house. “I don’t even work forty hours a week. I’m starting a business, but some days I take him with me—he’s not with a sitter every day. I don’t understand, kids are in daycare all across the land. There’s nothing wrong with me having a job.”

  “That’s not exactly what was reported to us, Mrs. Ketteman.” Paula, who looks like she’s sitting with a stick up her ass in her frumpy, floral dress, peers at me over her reading glasses. “That doesn’t come close to what was described by the child’s paternal grandparents.”

  I can’t help the edge in my tone as I glare at the woman perched on the edge of the linen chair across the family room from me. “Maybe that’s because they don’t know since they live across the country and we haven’t seen them for more than three months.”

  “Yes, they did mention that.” She flips through a stack of papers in the open file. “However, it’s our responsibility to investigate all reports made to CPS.”

  The two uniformed officers have wandered around the house—looking for what, I have no clue—and are now standing to the side watching the shit-storm this lady is stirring. Unlike Paula, they’re not judging me with their gaze or body language. They look like they’d rather be anywhere else and annoyance is seeping from them, which makes me relax just a bit, hopeful they might see this whole scenario for what it is—bullshit.

  But when my front door bursts open, they don’t look annoyed any longer. They become alert at the same time my body sags with relief. I sent her an SOS text while I was trying to get Griffin to take his medicine.

  I hear her heels clicking across my wood floors with attitude and passion and purpose. Everything that makes my big sister what she is because, unlike me, she has her shit together. Just as my life has fallen into a pile of class-A drama worthy of a Dr. Phil rerun, Jen’s life has peaked. She was recently named CEO of Montgomery Industries when my dad officially stepped aside and just got engaged. She and Eli are currently trying to wade through the troubled waters of nuptial-planning, attempting to appease both of their families, and not create a spectacle that will show up on TMZ.

  I guess she and I have that in common—both of us doing everything we can to not be the star of crap TV.

  She rounds the corner from the entryway, all business as she announces herself. “Jensen Montgomery. I’m Ellie’s sister and Griffin’s aunt.”

  The moment I see her, her eyes move from Griff to me as something changes in her expression. I know my sister and she’s on fire for me—always for me—and I hate that I’m such a taker. When it comes to us, I’m the needy one and she’s always there to pick up my pieces, glue me back together, and do everything she can to convince me I’m as good as new when I know that will never be the case.

  But when another set of footsteps echo hers, I lose my breath.

  It’s him.

  Not only am I dealing with my dead husband’s parents making false allegations against me as a mother that has CPS breathing down my neck, but the police are also standing in my house, and Trig is here. In my house, in the flesh, standing there in the same suit he wore this morning when he buried his mother. It fits him like it was stitched on while he stood there waiting.

  The blood drains from my head and I close my eyes, turning my face to Griffin’s soft curls at his nape. As difficult as an Act of Congress, I make myself breathe while my sister commands, “This is Easton Barrett, counsel representing my sister. Going forward, any questions for Ellie Ketteman will go through him.”

  No. He can’t be here and he definitely cannot represent me. I won’t allow it.

  The sofa dips at my side. When I look over, Jen has fit herself next to us and places her lips to Griffin’s head. She spears me with her eyes, and unlike the stormy day that seems to match the constant state of my heart, her glare is as clear as freshly polished crystal and she’s silently telling me to shut the fuck up.

  I’m just glad my parents are traveling in Europe and not in town to insert themselves into this.

  “Easton Barrett.” His deep voice rumbles through my family room and my heart.

  I always loved his voice—deep and penetrating, especially when his words were murmured in my ear or across my bare skin. To hear him speak for the first time in a decade is too much. Especially today, and even more, at a moment when everything seems to be teetering on a ledge that’s so horrific, it’s paralyzing. I open my eyes and he’s standing across the room with his attention set on Paula.

  He goes on. “I’d appreciate it if you could start at the top and bring me up to speed. I’d like to know what I’m dealing with, seeing as the child is clearly not in any physical or emotional danger.”

  Trig doesn’t sit and slides his hands into his suit pockets, which might seem like a casual move, but the way he’s towering over everyone as he demands information on my latest nightmare displays a confidence that would be enough to tame a lion. Paula, the barracuda, doesn’t seem quite so menacing now. She rustles through her papers and has to work for it when she straightens her spine and searches for her previous poise as she lays it out—the false claims my former in-laws have spewed about me.

  Jen squeezes my hand as Paula repeats their bullshit, but I can’t take my eyes off Trig. His icy blues are just that, cold and emotionless, and I hope Jen didn’t screw me by bringing him here. Sure, he got her off of insider trading charges just a few months ago, but that was his job. He doesn’t work for me and I can’t imagine he’d want to after all that happened.

  One of his thick, arched brows hitches and he tips his head. He’s unimpressed. “That’s it?”

  Paula’s face falls. “Yes. But it’s my job to investigate every report, make sure any child who’s brought to our attention is safe and cared for. The grandparents of Griffin Ketteman fear he’s being neglected.”

  “I appreciate the fact your job is an important one, Ms…?” Trig’s voice trails as he waits for an answer.

  She clears her throat and purses her lips. “Watson. Paula Watson.”

  “Yes, Ms. Watson.” Trig nods. “As you said, your job is to make sure the children in our community are safe and cared for. Does this child appear unsafe to you?”

  I wince as Paula’s eyes dart to Griffin and me.

  Trig goes on. “Does he seem malnourished?”

  Paula looks back to Trig and shakes her head.

  Trig folds his arms across his chest. “And does it seem as if he’s living in an unsafe environment?”

  I’ve hated this house since the day the realtor turned into the driveway, but Robert insisted this was the one. I was young then. Now I’m only twenty-eight, a widow, and a single mom. We didn’t need this house then and I certainly don’t need this much space now. Paula looks around at what I shouldn’t feel ashamed of, but right now, I do. Her eyes even wander out the back windows, looking over the vast patio and fenced in pool that I’ve had safeguarded in every way possible because I’m scared to death of what could happen if Griffin got out of my sight.

  Trig doesn’t wait for her to answer and looks back over his shoulders at the two uniformed officers who haven’t said boo since Jen and Trig arrived. “Do you have anything to add to her report?”

  They shake their heads and one answers, “The little guy’s congested, but who isn’t during this time of year in Texas? Allergies are the worst.”

  Trig nods in agreement and looks back to Paula. I shudder at his next words because I know what he’s referring to. “I’ve seen some bad cases of parenting in my day, Ms. Watson, but this isn’t one of them. I suggest that unless you c
an prove that Griffin Ketteman is currently unsafe, you should go back to your office, move forward with your job, and I’ll be in contact. But as you can see, there’s nothing here for you to do. I speak for my client when I say, I’m sure she’d like to get back to her day and care for her sick child.”

  “Well,” Paula stacks her papers and closes the file as she swallows hard. “I do agree. Besides suffering from a cold, the subject does appear safe. I’ll move forward with my paperwork.”

  “You can investigate and assess all you want, but if you try to intimidate my client again, I’ll be filing charges on her behalf with the county. The last I heard, judges like to keep families together, not rip them apart. You had the element of surprise today, but that will not happen again.”

  I’ve sat here silent, not uttering a peep since he stalked into my house and back into my life like a freight train.

  “Ellie.” I shift my gaze as I hear my name pass his lips for the first time in what seems like ten lifetimes. His eyes are void of everything I remember in them—warmth, love, and heat, the way he’d see me and only me. But not today. Not anymore. “Do you have any questions?”

  Questions?

  Hell, yes. I have a million—maybe two. But they all have to do with why life is unfair and painful and nothing but one slap across the face after another.

  Instead, I hug my baby tighter and shake my head. “No.”

  “Should you need any further information from my client, you can call me.” Trig lays out the law for Paula as he hands her a business card, one that no-doubt has the raised, embossed logo with my family’s corporation where he’s been lead counsel for the last month since my older sister feels the need to torture me.

  Paula takes Trig’s business card, the file packed with lies about how I’m neglecting my son, and turns to leave. The officers mutter their goodbyes and turn to follow her out. Jen doesn’t leave my side but Trig follows them to the door.

  Me? I hold my breath, my composure, and claw at the last bits of my frayed emotions until I hear the heavy front door click.

  My sister’s self-control melts as soon as the lock turns and she hisses under her breath so as not to wake Griffin, “What the hell have they done now?”

  I shake my head and squeeze my eyes because I can’t fall apart. Not yet—not with Trig anywhere near. Griffin starts to stir and I’m grateful he was able to sleep through most of that. “I don’t know. I guess they’re coming after me since I refused to speak to them after Robert died. They all but blamed me.” I look to Jen. “How they could twist that around in their pretentious heads, I have no idea.”

  Trig stalks back in, but stops at the entrance to the two-story family room. Jen does what she does best—takes charge, digging through her bag until she finds her cell. “I’ll call Eli. He can look into Carl and Teresa. This isn’t an official case yet, but we need to start planning your defense and that starts with finding out what the hell they’re up to.”

  Trig nods and Jen walks into the kitchen to make her call.

  I readjust Griffin on my chest. I don’t know what to expect from Trig. I never thought the day would come when we’d be in the same room again, let alone for a reason like this. It stings when he’s all business and asks, “Why would your dead husband’s parents lie about you?”

  I try not to look at him and instead focus on Griffin, who’s now back to snoring away on my chest. I don’t want Trig in the house I shared with Robert and I really don’t want him representing me. I don’t know how to be around him after all this time and I’m not interested in figuring it out. “Who knows? Maybe I am a terrible mother. Just when you think you know someone, it can blow up in your face, right?”

  He advances a few steps. “Don’t throw your attitude—not with me. Do yourself a favor and tell me everything. My guess, your sister is gonna have her man all over this, and if there’s shit to be had on them, we’ll know it. The more I know about your background with them, the more I can do.”

  I look up and realize how different we are now. I’m not the carefree girl who fell hard for the bad-boy ranch hand—so hard I barely found my way out. He’s not the same either. The controlled, focused attorney I just witnessed is nothing like the hot-headed cowboy I thought would be mine forever.

  “Dammit. You’re not doing yourself any favors. If I’m going to help, you have to talk to me.”

  I stand and pull Griff up in my arms. Moving straight through the room, I stop two feet shy of him and more memories fill my head. I look up. His size, strength, and sheer aura that emanates off him in spades are just a few of the things that haven’t changed.

  I guess some things never will, just like all that happened years ago. That, heartbreakingly, has been written into stone, no matter how much I’ve tried to dream it away over the years.

  I even my voice as I remind myself of all the ways we’re now different. “They hated me—it didn’t matter what I did to try to change that. Some insignificant dancer from Texas who dropped out of Juilliard a year before graduation—even if I did make it to Broadway—was never good enough for their son. Robert didn’t help either. I was only a means to an end for him and his mother was a monster when it came to my family. Anything else you need to know, ask your boss. She knows everything about me. I can’t handle any other distractions. I need to focus on my son and my new studio.”

  Trig’s jaw hardens and he crosses his arms as he glares down at me. “Who said I was going to be a distraction?”

  He was always a distraction. “I’ll find my own representation. I don’t need you.”

  “Are you a Montgomery?”

  My eyes narrow and I don’t answer. Being a Montgomery is a point of contention from the past I have no desire to revisit.

  He takes a step—we’re so close I remember the cravings I used to have just to touch him. I was obsessed as a girl and those memories swirl through me and my insides twist and turn. The only reason I can pretend to be strong and hold my ground is because my sleeping son is sandwiched between us.

  I don’t say another word and he answers his own question. “Yeah, you’re a Montgomery and I work for MI now, which makes you my job—a job I intend to do well because my name is attached to it, despite who my client may be. If you even think of finding different representation, there’ll be hell to pay.”

  My face turns hard and my filter dissipates. “Fuck you. I’ve had enough people dictating my life and I’ve already paid hell hand over fist. I’m done.”

  He leans in so close, the silver flecks in his eyes glint in the afternoon sun shining through my west-facing windows. But unlike his eyes, his voice turns dark and guttural. “You’re not the only one who’s paid hell, Ellie.”

  My tears spring to life and I fight to swallow them away. “Fine. You want to spin your wheels on my behalf? Be my guest but I don’t want to see you.”

  “Like I wanted to see you at my mother’s funeral today?”

  My stomach drops because that’s a low blow. If he only knew how much I loved Faye. “If you need to communicate with me, do it through my sister.”

  “Do what through your sister?”

  Neither Trig or I move but we do look to the kitchen where Jen is standing, staring us down with her head tipped and a hand on her hip.

  “Nothing,” Trig says at the same time I spit, “If he wants to talk to me, he can do it through you.”

  Jen exhales and lifts her cell, giving it a wiggle. “Eli is going to look into everything—Carl, Teresa, even the CPS worker. I told him she was aggressive when there was no reason to be.”

  “Great.” I switch Griffin to my other arm. “I’ve got a private investigator, an attorney, and a CEO to manage my crisis. I’m set. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to put my son to bed and hope to God he’ll take a nap. I might take one myself.”

  I move around Trig, wanting and needing to escape. Today has been too much.

  “Ellie, come back down and let’s talk about what happened,” Jen calls a
s I start toward the stairs.

  I look over my shoulder. “Sorry. I don’t want to be a neglectful mother or anything.”

  “Ellie.” Her voice lowers into a plea.

  I’m halfway up the stairs, but more significantly, I’ve run away from Trig like the pro I am.

  I get Griffin settled and pray he’ll rest. Then I flop down on the bed I’ve been sleeping in next to his ever since Robert died. I can’t stand the room we shared and I really need to think about selling this house sooner rather than later.

  I pull a pillow into my chest and mutter to no one, “Creative, Ellie. Run like you always do. You’re officially the weakest person I know.”

  3

  Lost

  Don’t wander through life. Time is brief and precious. To waste that gift is as sinful as murder.

  Trig

  “You gotta be kidding me.” I lean back in my office chair and look out my window to the sun setting on downtown Dallas. There are days I wonder what the hell I’m doing. Working at Montgomery Industries was never on my radar. Hell, forget about my radar. I never thought I’d have anything to do with any Montgomery ever again.

  And I just found out the man I have to thank for that has been released from jail.

  Charlie is the prison guard in Huntsville I’ve been paying under the table to keep tabs on things for the last few years. He’s not cheap but when my mother refused to leave the Lone Star State, I had to have eyes inside that prison. I was more than happy to pay it.

  “When did he get out?” I demand.

  “Last week,” Charlie huffs, his voice ragged as he jogs. “Sorry, man. I was on vacation and last night was my first day back on shift. I knew he was going in front of the parole board but I didn’t think there was any chance he’d get it. I called as soon as I got off work.”

  Irritated with him, my week, and that my fucking father is breathing free air, especially right after my mother died, I bite out, “I haven’t shelled out enough over the last few years for you to call me before you go for a run, huh?”