His First Choice

He’d never cared more.

“Tressa lost it when Sydney Gardner showed up at her door last night, asking questions about nightmares, shaking and throwing up.”

“Did Levi have any nightmares recently that you know of?”

“That sounds, Ms. Hamilton, like a professional question, not a friend one.”

She sat with her hands clasped together on her cute little oak kitchen table—a set for two, which was all that would fit in the small space.

When she didn’t say anything, he pulled out the seat opposite her. Far enough that he could scoot down, lean back and look as though he didn’t have a care in the world, without bumping his knees against the table leg.

“Let me explain something,” she said when he’d assumed his position and grown still, staring at her. It occurred to him, as he waited for her to continue, that he could be mirroring his son from the night before with his jutting chin and arms crossed against his chest. When Levi had found out that he had to go to his mother’s for the weekend.

“I made a call, as any concerned citizen should do, when my sister told me something that made me afraid for Levi’s safety. After relaying only what I’d been told, and nothing more, I hung up.”

“Obviously you told whoever you called that you’d had Levi’s case, but closed the investigation.”

“I did not.”

He wasn’t sure what to do with that.

“The minute I became personally involved with you, I ceased being a social worker,” she continued after he’d grown greatly uncomfortable with the silence.

“So you didn’t tell your coworker about Levi’s case.”

“I did not.”

Okay, then, maybe he’d been wrong.

“I knew she’d find it, though. And know exactly why I called. That’s why I called Sydney at home. We’ve worked together a lot over the past eighteen months.”

If she was trying to tell him something good, he missed it.

She’d set him up and was playing semantics.

Now he was more than just pissed. He was...disappointed. To the point of...he didn’t know what.

“Sydney’s a professional through and through. She’s as dedicated to these kids as I am.”

Her hole was getting deeper.

“She won’t speak to me of this case ever again. And I won’t mention it, either. I can’t. That’s what happened when I called her.”

She was looking him in the eye, and he saw a sunset again. The kind that brought you to your knees.

Calmed you. And invigorated you at the same time.

Which pissed him off all over again.

“You’re telling me you can’t speak on my behalf.”

“I’m telling you I have no power whatsoever. Either way.”

She couldn’t speak against him, either.

And she hadn’t. She’d simply called in a private citizen concern.

“Tressa’s a mess.”