“I know. It’s become a dead-zone after the old cell tower was replaced by a different carrier.”
“What’s your wifi password?”
“Shit. I don’t remember. Quinn set it up…try I love cats or something.”
“Even Quinn wouldn’t be that obvious.” Still, I try a handful of guesses, text Quinn for help, and wait a whole two seconds before getting frustrated with her lack of reply.
Owen gets up. “What do you need info on? We can look it up on the office computer.”
“I’ll be in here,” I tell Jackson and Danielle, motioning to the office. He’s using his hands to push in the balls on the pool table, and is excited to be ‘winning.’ It’ll be okay. I’ll get Scarlet back. For me and for him.
Owen puts in the password and steps aside, letting me sit in the desk chair. “Are you in love with her?”
“Yes.” I don’t hesitate, don’t try to hide my feelings. There’s no point. I do love Scarlet, and I love her fiercely.
“Then you’ve got to do this, man. You have to go get her. Take it from me,” he starts but doesn’t finish. I write down the prison’s phone number and address, closing the internet browser and letting out a breath. I’m so tense my shoulders are killing me. Standing, I turn to Owen.
“Thanks.”
“No problem. But I do think we should mark this date down in history as the day you came to me for advice.”
“I was actually hoping Logan was here.”
“Fuck you.”
I laugh. “He probably would have said the opposite.”
“No shit. He plays it too safe.” Owen shakes his head. “He’s going to miss his chance with her,” he says, meaning Danielle. “But what am I—”
He cuts off when he hears Danielle loudly tell someone the bar isn’t open yet.
“Ah, shit. I bet that’s Bart again.”
“Your resident drunk?”
“Yeah. Poor bastard’s drunk more than he is sober. We started giving him protein shakes and saying they’re full of vodka. He drinks them at least. Hopefully it’ll help him put on a few pounds before winter.”
“Owen!” Danielle calls and both my brother and I run. Danielle is standing behind the pool table, holding Jackson’s hand. Her eyes are wide and full of fear, and Jackson looks confused.
“Daddy!” he yells and tries to make a run for me. But she’s faster.
Daisy grabs Jackson, and he immediately starts to struggle, just like I taught him in the event someone tries to kidnap him.
"It’s okay, I’m your mom,” Daisy tells him, and he freezes.
“Daisy.” I rush over, blood boiling. “Put him down.”
“Dad?” Jackson asks, looking back and forth between Daisy and myself. “Is this Mommy?”
“Yes, baby!” Daisy hugs him and drops to her knees, tears falling from her eyes. “I’m your mommy.”
“Let him go,” I tell her. “You have no right to be here.”
“He’s my son! I have every right that you—”
“Legally,” I interrupt. “You have no rights. Let him go and leave.”
“No.” She stands up, holding Jackson’s hand. She looks down at him, smiling. “Want to go get ice cream? We can catch up.”
“Okay,” Jackson says, not too sure of himself.
I clench my fists. I could easily stride over and shove her away, but I don’t want Jackson to see me lay a finger on Daisy. And I don’t want to hurt her. Deep down, I feel bad for her. She’s missing out on the greatest kid in the whole fucking world.
“No. Let him go,” I say again in a calm, level voice. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Owen pull out his phone and start recording a video. I know exactly what he’s doing: getting proof of Daisy trying to take my son. Thank you, Owen, for thinking two steps ahead for once.
“You have no legal standing to take him,” I repeat. “You gave up custody when you left us four years ago. Let him go.”
“No,” she says again and shuffles back. “I’m taking him and you can’t stop me.”
“Should I call the cops?” Danielle asks, voice trembling a bit.
“Yes,” I tell her. “Tell them exactly what’s going on. Jackson’s non-custodial mother is trying to take him.”
“Daddy, I’m scared.” Jackson tries to pull away and Daisy tightens her grip. I rush forward, and she picks him up, holding him so tight she’s hurting him. He kicks and hits a table, knocking a few glasses onto the ground. They shatter, and glass crunches under her feet. If I try to wrestle him out of her arms, she could drop him or fall, and he’ll get cut.
Shuffling away from me and toward the door, I advance, going around a table and blocking the exit.
“Get the fuck out of my way!” Daisy struggles to keep a hold of Jackson. The kid is only four, but he takes after me and is solid.
“Put him down,” I say again. If she gets out the door, she’s going to take him. She came here to kidnap him, though she won’t see it that way. But it’s exactly what it is. There’s no way I’m letting her out that door.