Only Love (42 page)

“Officer Holloway?”

Adam turned to meet her gaze immediately. “Yes, ma’am?”

There was a moment of silence when Mrs. Ruiz took a step in Adam’s direction. My heart skipped a beat like I was sure his did, too.

“I want to thank you for what you did. That took a lot of bravery,” Josephine stated, reaching out to shake Adam’s hand. He stared at it for a moment, but finally took her hand in his, accepting the peace offering. She smiled. “And I also want to thank you for taking care of my granddaughter like you have. Aubrey’s told me how great you are with her.”

Adam nodded graciously. “They’ve been a blessing to me.
All
of them,” he said, glancing at Gabby for a moment too. She smiled and hitched Rissa further up her hip.

Josephine said a few more words before leaving us, and I immediately turned to Adam, entangling my fingers with his. Without saying it, I knew having Josephine’s approval as far as him being in Rissa’s life meant a lot to him. It did to me too.

“Well, kid, Monday’s the day, huh?” Don’s voice rang out from behind us. Adam turned to find him smiling a solemn smile, filled with too many emotions to name. Come Monday morning, Adam would be assigned his new partner following Don’s retirement. The two were making light of the situation, but I knew deep down they’d
both
have to adjust to not having the other at their side day in and day out.

“So it is,” Adam said back. “But what about you? What are you gonna do with all that free time?”

Don looked off for a moment and shrugged. “Eh, I’ll find something to get into. Wife’s been getting on my case about doing some volunteer work.” He shrugged casually again. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll see what that’s about.”

Adam saw through Don’s statement just like I did. The idea may have been his wife’s, but he was clearly not as opposed to it as he was putting on. Still, Adam didn’t call him on it.

Rissa giggled at something Gabby did and Don’s gaze went to them both. He grinned at the sight of our girls. “Take care of yourself out there,” Don said, admonishing Adam. “Don’t try to be a hero, you hear? You’ve got all three of these beautiful girls to come home to at night, so don’t be stupid.”

Adam laughed at that and nodded. “Got it. No hero stuff.”

Don nodded back, eyeing me with a faint smile before walking away.

Adam pulled me closer and I couldn’t help but to feel grateful for all I had—all
we
had. If there was one thing I’d learned over the past year it was that life was fragile and you should always keep the ones you love close. In the blink of an eye, Adam could have been taken away from me. That was a sobering but true thought.

When we left the church that day, I was filled with a sense of knowing that everything would be okay. I had everything and everyone I needed. No matter what we might face in the future, no matter what we’d gain or lose, we’d make it. We’d be okay, our little family. I was sure of it.

Love was
now,
and would always be enough.

I held Aubrey’s hand, my thumb playing with the ring on her finger while I drove. My gaze escaped the road every once and while, watching the flicks of fragmented light her diamond cast on the interior of our rental car. The California sun seemed to bring it out tenfold, so beautiful, and the girls in the back got a kick out of it too. The rearview mirror let me know that. Gabby would point at the shifting light, getting Rissa’s attention. Her little hands would shoot out for it, wishing for a touch of it.

Aubrey realized the game we all played, turning back to them before smiling up at me. Her gorgeous brown eyes would pin me in place when she did it. Every wonderful time. Her gaze went back in front of her but she continued to let me play with the girls by using her ring, a content look on her face that had to match mine. She always had that look these days. It originated the night I proposed to her a couple months ago, the proposal triggered in full force by certain events.

Things changed the day of the bank robbery, and I think we both knew that. I saw my partner go down before my eyes, fighting for his life behind glassy eyes after being shot. That could have just as easily been me, and though things turned out okay in the end, things were still unsettled. I couldn’t pretend to be okay living in a world were I didn’t have Aubrey, Rissa, and Gabby. I wouldn’t be okay. I wanted them all.
Needed
them all.

Turns out they wanted that too.

“It will be okay,” Aubrey whispered to me, out of earshot of the girls while she ran her hand up and down the length of mine.

Kissing the back of her hand, I focused on the drive, the sandy beaches passing us, the wide ocean surrounding us. Things would be okay. What I was about to do
would
be okay. It would because I had it all,
was about to
have it all, and that was a long time coming.

My nerves caught up with me when we hit the block I think. Yes, that sounded about right. I turned onto the appropriate lane, Aubrey and I both eyeing the array of beautiful beach houses for the correct number.

1445…

1450…

1455.

We were here. As I unstrapped, getting the girls situated right after, I wondered for the umpteenth time if I was ready, but something different occurred while I held the thought this time, and that was certainty, a deep one I felt at my core. I was ready, and as Aubrey said: things would be okay.

I went to get Rissa out the back, but Gabby was already there, grinning up at me with her most radiant of smiles.

“I got her, Dad,” she said, the word so casual it was an afterthought as she pulled Rissa out of her car seat.

That still blew my mind, that I was her dad, her foster dad, but still. I intended to make that permanent. Aubrey and I both did. Gabby’s mom had a long sentence, and though we both knew we couldn’t replace her, we wanted to be there for Gabby. We wanted her. Currently, we were still all bunkered down in Aubrey’s apartment, but I had already started the process of looking into houses near my moms. We were going to make this thing real. We were going to make this thing permanent.

“Adam?”

I looked up at Aubrey, standing before me outside of the car. Suddenly, her gaze left mine and went behind me. She tipped her chin then, her lips lifting in the corner as she graced me with that pretty smile of hers.

“We’ll be okay,” she said, referring to the girls. She placed her hand on my shoulder. “Go ahead. We’ll be right behind you. We’ll be all right.”

I knew they would, but would I? This day I had anticipated for so long, and in fact, I could pinpoint the exact time of that very anticipation. It had been a day of tragedy. A day of loss.

Upon turning around, I was letting myself fully heal from that day. The loss. The tragedy. I would. I would because I was ready to.

I believe I had my head down, my eyes toward the ground with my steps. I had to have because if I hadn’t would have noticed what was before me, and consequently, wouldn’t have walked so confidently.

Looking up, I finally did see. I saw her.

Long, red hair flailed through the wind, the breeze light with the faint smell of the Pacific as we were outside her home here in Cali. This was my first time seeing her in person. We hadn’t even video chatted first because once I made the decision to come we hadn’t had time. I needed to be here. I needed to see her. My daughter.

Abby.

Her bright eyes sparkled at me. At first, I believed because of the color, a shimmering blue like mine, but that wasn’t it. They were shining because she was crying. My girl was crying.

Swallowing back my own tears, I went to her, her location right outside the doorframe of the large house with wide glass windows. My feet picked up and I knew I was doing more than walking. I had to get to her. She seemed to have the same mindset as she moved forward, but she did so by moving her hands downward.

To a set of wheels.

Pushing her small hands down them, she guided herself down a ramp, coming closer to me this time. Until she moved, I hadn’t taken notice of her wheelchair at all. I didn’t see it.

I couldn’t make my feet move after that, but that turned out not to matter. Abby got closer; her speed like she was running a marathon. She didn’t seem to notice I had stopped making my way to her, that I’d gotten lost. I felt ashamed for that. I needed to move. I had to get closer to her, but then a hand touched my back, a warm one.

“We’re here with you,” Aubrey whispered, calmly, soothingly. She smoothed her hand against my back, helping me journey on.

My feet moved forward again, and Aubrey’s hand left my back as I continued on. I wouldn’t pause again. I wouldn’t retract into myself. No more.

Abby made it to me, but I didn’t let her do the journey alone. I joined her. We’d made it to each other—finally.

She stared at me, her eyes indeed glistening in tears, and I squatted to her level to make it easier for her. I wanted to grab her instantly, hold her and tell her so many things. That I never wanted to leave her, and that I loved her unconditionally. But with the situation we were in I didn’t know what was appropriate. I’d let her tell me.

She spoke first, a light willowy voice, graceful like wind chimes.

“You look like mom’s pictures,” she said, pushing small fingers under her eyes, catching tears.

My heart squeezed and I smiled at her. “You look like your pictures too.”

Though her mom had only sent me the one in her letter, I had stared at it every day, so many hours leading up until this moment.

My fingers curled at my side itching to reach out toward her, but so scared, I didn’t know if I could or should.

Turns out I didn’t have to.

“Can I hug you?” she choked, but before I could respond she reached out toward me.

I closed the distance, again making it easier. Easier for both of us. I couldn’t describe what it felt like to have her in my arms. I almost believed I had forgotten, but it was as if we had been sent back in time. She was my little girl of four, running into my arms after a long day at school. I was her relief every time from the world, and she was mine.

We talked for so long that I lost track of the minutes. They could have formed into hours, and I wouldn’t have known. She told me about school and how well she was doing, and I wasn’t surprised. She was a Holloway. If we put our minds to something nothing was an obstacle.

I pushed her wheelchair while we talked, journeying within her neighborhood before coming back to the house. I thought this would be hard, to touch her chair, but she seemed so at home in it. This wasn’t an obstacle for her. This chair was a part of her as if another limb. She really was doing okay. She really was.

When we came back inside she showed me her room, her pictures. She was in a lot of sports. Basketball, swimming. I just was so… happy to hear it. I sat on her bed, watching her wheel around as she pointed out her awards for her various athletic achievements on her walls and shelves. I even spied the gifts I sent her at Christmas from Aubrey and me. The toys were full out on the floor. Like she never put them away.