Solace (18 page)

“
T
hank you for coming in
, Mr. Carter. We’ll get back to you once we’ve made a decision.”

Shane faked a smile, shaking the shorter man’s hand. It was the fifth interview he’d had in the last three days, and it had ended in the same brush-off he always got.

As soon as his prospective employer saw his military records—specifically the fact that he’d been dishonorably discharged for misconduct—the interview suddenly ended with a polite exchange just like this one.

Shane wasn’t an idiot. He knew he wasn’t going to get a call back. Not from any of these places.

But he kept trying because… Honestly, he didn’t know why. He needed a job. That much was obvious. Denise had tried to talk him into applying for disability benefits, but Shane refused to go down that route.

If he had any hope of seeing his daughter, he needed to get his shit together and find steady work, no matter what it was.

It was fucking hard to show up cleaned up and halfway polished for these interviews when he could hardly drag himself out of bed in the morning, though. He knew it was depression, sinking its black claws into him.

But it was also the fact that he hadn’t been sleeping well. The nightmares came more frequently now, and they were always about Aaron.

Worse than that, in almost every one of them, Aaron was in trouble. And no matter what Shane did, he couldn’t save him. Most of the time, Shane was the one hurting him.

He didn’t appreciate the irony of his dreams following his actual life.

It had been less than a week since the breakup. Shane had gotten a call about someone else taking over his training with Buttercup, which he figured was only fair. Without that time spent with Aaron, though, he had nothing to fill his seemingly endless days.

Now that he’d bombed yet another interview, he was left with nothing again.

Climbing into his truck, Shane just stared at the clock on the dash for a while, willing it to change. Willing it to speed up, so he could just go home and crawl back into bed.

But it was only one-thirty. If he went to bed now, he’d just end up awake later. And considering his usual remedy of playing Shield and Sanctuary just reminded him of Aaron now, he didn’t have any way to combat the constant insomnia.

He could put in a few more applications. There were lots of restaurants and retail places around here. It wouldn’t make use of the specialist skills he’d honed in the Army, but right now, he didn’t care.

One-thirty.

Becca would be getting out of school soon. As long as traffic wasn’t too bad, he could make it over there before the final bell rang and let the kids out.

Shell would be pissed when she found out, and he didn’t doubt she’d find out somehow. There were enough busybodies picking up their kids that someone was bound to notice if Shane dropped by.

But… God, Becca was his light. His only light. Buttercup helped him cope, but his daughter had always been the only thing to pull him out of the darkness.

Until Aaron, anyway, but he’d fucked that up way beyond repair.

Shane’s fingers tightened around the wheel. “Hope you’re up for a detour,” he said, glancing at Buttercup where she lay in her travel kennel.

* * *

H
e got
to the school with a few minutes to spare. Parents were already lined up around the block, and Shane didn’t bother to fit his truck into the endless parade. Instead, he found a place on the grass to park, then walked up to the side of the school where the kids were loaded onto the buses.

He hoisted himself up on top of one of the cement blocks that grounded the pillars and waited.

As soon as the bell rang, kids started to filter out through the double doors. He scanned the crowd, looking for the mop of curly blonde hair.

When he finally saw her, something inside of him clenched desperately. God, it was good just to
see
her. He knew it had only been a few weeks since the last time, but living with the reality of never seeing her again made him treasure every second.

It took her a moment to look up in his direction, but when she did, her smile lit up his whole world.

“Daddy!”

If she felt any embarrassment over him being here, she definitely didn’t show it. Shane hopped down and opened his arms to her. She rushed to him, and he practically picked her up off the ground when he hugged her.

Even if everything else in his life was spinning out of control, this was still good. His daughter didn’t hate him.

“What are you doing here? Are you going to take me home?” She asked hopefully.

But before Shane could answer, a woman in a pressed power suit came up behind Becca. Her smile was as fake as they came.

“You must be Mr. Carter.”

He nodded. “I’m Becca’s dad.”

He could only guess this was the principal, and from the way she was looking at him…

“Rebecca, honey, why don’t you go ahead and get on your bus? You don’t want it to leave without you.”

Christ. A sinking feeling overwhelmed Shane, and ice flooded his veins.

This looked… bad. Really bad.

“But my dad’s going to take me home,” Becca said, her brows scrunching together in confusion.

“It’s okay, Becca-bear. Go grab the bus, and I’ll pick you up some other time.”

Becca frowned, and Shane felt a stab of guilt. What had he been thinking coming here?

With one more gentle urging from the principal, Becca gave him another tight hug—one he savored—before she headed off for her bus.

Shane didn’t waste any time.

“I know I’m not authorized to pick her up. I wasn’t planning on it. I just… wanted to see her.”

“I understand, Mr. Carter,” she said in a tone that suggested she didn’t actually care. “But I’m going to have to tell Ms. Reynolds about this incident.”

Shane let out a breath. In the distance, he saw Becca stop on the stairs to her bus. She waved to him enthusiastically, and Shane could only manage a raise of his hand in return.

The hearing was in five days, and thanks to his own stupidity, he had a feeling this was the last time he was going to see his daughter.

“
A
ll right
, let’s take a look at your rap sheet, buddy.”

Aaron sat cross-legged on the somewhat dirty floor of Paws For Hope’s evaluation room. A file rested in his lap—just a three-page write-up listing intake information, veterinary exam notes, and behavioral analysis. Across from him, a dog lay calmly.

They’d picked up Toby a few days ago, and while he was well-behaved in the shelter, he’d started trying to unhook the lock to his kennel on the ride to the facility. At one point he’d ended up loose in the back of Aaron’s car, panting and whining, apparently in a frantic bid to get Aaron to crash.

He hadn’t crashed, and Toby had mellowed out once they got into the facility. His behavior in the car was… a problem, though, and Aaron looked for any indication it had been observed before.

He squinted, trying to decipher the chicken scratch in front of him. Finally, on the second page, he found it. “Doesn’t like cars.”

Aaron frowned, lifting his head to look at Toby. Toby just regarded him with a curious expression, so far from the dog he’d seen earlier that it felt like he’d had an imposter in his car.

“I wonder what it is,” he mused aloud. “The size? The noise? Being enclosed?”

It likely wasn’t the last, because Toby had been fine when left in a kennel overnight. He doubted it was the appearance of cars, either. He hadn’t started reacting until Aaron was already on the highway.

The sound of traffic—and maybe the unfamiliar smells—seemed the most likely culprit.

And if Toby was going to be integrated into their new program, Aaron definitely needed to find a way to associate positive things with car rides.

Ducking his head out of the evaluation room, he called to Richard. “I’ll be out in the parking lot for a bit. I want to try something.”

Richard just gave his distracted consent, and Aaron fitted Toby with a lead, directing him out of the facility.

He’d been working a lot lately. Not just with Toby, but with other dogs and a few owners. They were set to expand their program so they could take on more clients, and that meant getting basic obedience and behavioral training done with a lot of dogs.

But there was also an added benefit to working so much. When he was at the facility, immersed in his work, he didn’t have to think about Shane nonstop.

Oh, he still thought about him. As it drew closer to six o’clock, Aaron couldn’t help but think of him, since Shane came to the facility every day to train with Buttercup. And while Aaron made himself scarce during that time, it was impossible not to think of Shane.

He hated the way things had ended. He hated that a part of him still thought there was something he could have done to change it.

But he couldn’t face Shane again. He’d felt like such a fool the last time. He didn’t want to ever feel that way again. No matter how much he missed feeling Shane’s arms around him.

Pushing the thoughts from his mind, Aaron walked Toby out to the parking lot. He did a few experiments to see what startled Toby the most. He was fine with the car door and even the kennel. He was a little jumpy when the engine came to life, but settled down once it idled.

Even driving around the parking lot wasn’t too much of an ordeal. Toby whimpered, and Aaron started giving him treats when he was quiet. But so far he hadn’t tried his little Houdini act. Apparently he wanted to save that for the open road.

“Going to have to get a better lock for that kennel,” he said before letting Toby out of it.

He held the lead firmly, with just enough slack that Toby could walk away from the car if he wanted. Toby stayed by his feet, though, and when Aaron turned to start back toward the facility, he saw a familiar truck pulling onto the long dirt road that led to Paws For Hope.

Aaron’s heart leapt into his throat.

It wasn’t six yet. Shane shouldn’t be here. He’d kept careful track of time, and—

Aaron felt a sharp tug on the lead. Toby threw his muscular body into a lurch, and without anticipating it, Aaron had no chance to act.

Toby bolted. Straight toward the road.

Oh, God.

Chasing Toby was only going to make matters worse. But the dog kept getting further and further away from him, his ears flat and his tail tucked between his legs.

Toby wouldn’t go out into the road. He was too afraid of the traffic. At least, Aaron hoped that was true. He reached for his phone, feeling helpless. He hated using the catch poles, but if it came down to it, he’d rather keep Toby safe.

Calling for backup, Aaron slowly approached Toby. He was sniffing around the tree line, and it wouldn’t take much effort for him to disappear into the woods. Woods that were flanked by a major highway.

A sharp whistle rang through the sounds of the cars whizzing by.

Aaron turned, expecting to see Richard or another one of his colleagues. Instead, he saw Shane.

His mouth went dry. He couldn’t manage to force out even the vaguest instruction for how they should proceed.

But he didn’t need to. Buttercup was at Shane’s side, as dutiful as ever. She wagged her tail at Aaron, and that got Toby’s attention.

Forgetting about the woods, Toby’s ears perked up and he ran toward Buttercup, stopping a few feet from her. He didn’t bristle or bark, he just tried to initiate play. And while he was distracted, Aaron was able to get closer and eventually bribe him with treats.

One crisis averted. But the next crisis…

He glanced up at Shane and his heart squeezed painfully. He looked… not that great, actually. There were dark circles under his eyes, and lines that Aaron had never noticed in his face before. His beard was a little wild, and his clothes were wrinkled.

“Thank you,” Aaron said quietly.

“Sure.”

Aaron was beginning to hate that word. But this wasn’t said the same way as last time. If anything, he thought he heard Shane’s voice break in the middle of it.

“Trial’s in a few days, so I’m…” Shane jerked his thumb back toward the facility. “Getting some more training in.”

Of course. Aaron would have done the same thing if he was still working with Shane.

“I’ll get out of your way,” Shane mumbled.

And before Aaron could say anything else, he and Buttercup headed toward the entrance to the facility, leaving him alone in the parking lot with Toby.

God. One awkward run-in, and he already longed to throw himself at Shane and beg him to change his mind. Or confront him and demand to know why he’d ended things.

How was he going to get through this?

W
alking
into the courthouse was a little surreal.

Shane had expected the hearing to take place in an actual courtroom with a judge who would lord over them. But it didn’t. His lawyer led him toward what Shane could only describe as a series of large conference rooms. The ones he passed had a long table in the center, chairs arranged around it, and not a whole lot else.

He expected his lawyer to stop at any time, and kept getting hung up on the open rooms they passed. But he just kept walking, until eventually they turned a corner down another hallway that was lined with rooms that all had their doors closed.

Shane felt like he was taking his last walk on Death Row, but he refused to keep his head down. He looked straight ahead, and he was rewarded for it.

There, on a bench outside of one of the rooms, was Becca.

“You’re here!” She said, in a volume that was probably breaking the rules of “inside voice.”

Shane grinned and walked toward her, not bothering to look to his lawyer for approval. He couldn’t be denied the chance to see his kid now. It would be fucking criminal.

But Becca didn’t run to him. She didn’t meet him halfway and throw her arms around his neck. She didn’t forget herself and accidentally hug Buttercup even though she was on the job.

When Shane drew back to take in the whole picture, he understood why.

David stood there, holding her hand. He’d leaned down and was saying something to her, and Becca nodded, her bottom lip sticking out.

“Why the hell is he here?” Shane growled.

“He’s a character reference for Ms. Reynolds,” his lawyer said simply.

Shane’s grip tightened on Buttercup’s lead. He felt her still at his side, and he forced himself to relax. When he spoke, though, it was through clenched teeth. “He’s known her for half a fucking second.”

“I’ve known Michelle since high school,” David put in, meeting Shane’s gaze. “And you should really be careful with your language around Becca.”

Becca. This asshole did not get to call
his
kid Becca.

Buttercup must have felt the tension in him, because she nudged his hand with her head until he was forced to pet her. He absently stroked her muzzle until he realized she was purposefully trying to calm him, then he let out a deep breath and tried his best to ignore David’s existence.

“Good girl,” he said quietly.

Buttercup might have stopped him from leaping over the bench and rearranging David’s face. But Shane still felt hollow inside. Lost.

“It looks like Ms. Reynolds’s already inside. We can begin when you’re ready.”

Shane bit back his immediate retort and followed his lawyer toward the door to the “conference room.” He smiled at Becca on the way, and she gave him a brilliant smile in return.

“Good luck, Daddy,” she said in what was half a whisper, half a yell.

Shane swallowed down the swell of emotion that rose in his throat and headed into a room that felt a lot more claustrophobic once he was inside it.

Taking his seat across from his ex-wife and her lawyer, he sat and waited for the judge to come and hear testimony that would change the course of his life forever.

* * *

“
H
ow do
you plan to support your daughter, Mr. Carter?”

It was Shane’s turn to provide a compelling case for why he should get partial custody—not even full, just partial—and so far, he wasn’t doing a great job of it.

“My client is actively searching for a job right now,” his lawyer said before Shane could even open his mouth.

He’d done that a lot over the past half hour, after Shell had put up enough proof to completely bury him. None of it was edged against him; she never said he was an unfit father, and for that he was grateful.

But the records she had and her character references made her sound like Supermom, while Shane was just… Shane.

His lawyer answered a few more questions, and Shane shifted in his seat. He’d wanted to speak for himself, but it was probably best he didn’t.

“I believe I have enough information for now. Do you have any letters of reference you’d like to present to the court?”

Shell had presented two letters, and an in-person account from David. Shane was only counting on one, and he wasn’t even sure if it had come through.

“We do, Your Honor. If I may submit this letter from George and Patricia Carter, Shane Carter’s parents.”

The judge permitted it, and Shane’s lawyer read the letter aloud. It was a nice letter. Nicer than he deserved. His parents talked about how he took immediate responsibility for Becca, despite being young. They talked about the fact that he’d joined the Army specifically to better himself for his daughter’s sake. They talked about how good he was with her, and how they trusted him implicitly to ensure their granddaughter’s safety.

It
was
a good letter, and it made Shane smile just a bit. But still that ache gnawed at him.

He was supposed to have another letter. A letter from Aaron. But he’d fucked that up royally, and in Shane’s mind, that provided plenty of evidence that he wasn’t well enough to handle this.

“Do you have any other letters to present on behalf of your client, Mr. Turner?”

“No more letters, Your Honor, but I do have testimony from another character reference. If the court will permit the entrance of Mr. Aaron Hayes.”

Shane’s head shot up, his wide eyes riveted to his lawyer. No. He was fucking around. It was some cruel joke.

Aaron wouldn’t have come. After what Shane had done to him, he hadn’t even expected a letter.

But one of the attendants got up and opened the door, and Shane’s gaze fixed on it until he saw Aaron walk through.

His mouth went dry, his jaw left to work uselessly. Why was Aaron here? There was no way he was providing a positive reference. But his lawyer wouldn’t have called him in if Aaron planned on putting the nail in his coffin, right?

Shane’s head was spinning. He had no idea what to think, and so he just stared at Aaron as he was led to a seat.

Aaron refused to meet his gaze, his attention fixed on the judge. He had something in his hands—one of those clear portfolio folders—and when the judge gave the go-ahead, Shane watched him take a deep breath before he began.

“Please state your name and how you know Mr. Carter, for the record,” the judge prompted.

“My name is Aaron Hayes, and I’m… I
was
Mr. Carter’s trainer for the past two months. I’ve helped him train the service dog he has with him now.”

The judge had already been made aware of the “why” behind Shane acquiring a service dog. It was the scarlet letter that branded him in this whole case.

“When I first met Mr. Carter, he seemed skeptical about the effectiveness of a service dog. But once the option was made available to him, he seemed to set that skepticism aside. He threw everything he had into training.”

Shane stared at him, wondering if they were remembering two different things.

“Actually, that’s… not exactly the truth,” Aaron admitted, obviously going off-script. Shane cringed. “He did put everything into training Buttercup, but he had trouble talking about what he needed.”

That was more like he remembered it.

“When he finally told me about his daughter, though, I understood.” His gaze flicked to Shane, then returned to his paper. “It became extremely clear to me why he was putting so much effort into the training, and why he had such a hard time opening up. It was because it mattered to him. His daughter mattered, more than anything else in the world.”

Aaron said that in such a way that it cut straight into Shane’s heart.

“I watched him go from cynical and a little uncooperative to a model trainer and service dog owner. I’m not going to say he didn’t stumble along the way, but I think everyone stumbles when the stakes are this high.

Over the past couple of months, he’s made the kind of progress I’d expect from someone who’d already been in the program for half a year. He’s learned to rely on his service dog, and I’ve personally witnessed him excel in situations that would have been a problem for him without this training.

For Mr. Carter, all of this goes back to his daughter. I was fortunate enough to see them together, and the change in him was instant. He just… lights up. He doesn’t see anyone else when she’s around. He adores her, and he’d never do anything to hurt her.

Doing this, training a service dog and letting someone else in enough to help you… it takes a lot of strength. I’ve seen a lot of people fail at it because they didn’t have a reason to succeed at any cost. Shane—Mr. Carter—has that reason.”

Shane swallowed hard, feeling the pinprick of tears.

“Mr. Hayes, are you aware of the incident that occurred at a theme park three years prior? In which Mr. Carter endangered his child’s safety?” Shell’s lawyer asked.

“I’m aware of it,” Aaron said tersely. “He told me what happened.”

“In your professional opinion, do you believe Mr. Carter’s mental stability has improved through this program? As much as I empathize with his plight, he could one day be put in a similar situation if he was granted partial custody of his child.”

Aaron’s jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. For a moment he looked… pissed off.

But he blew out a breath, and took on a look of contrition again. It didn’t quite stick.

“You talk about him like he’s broken,” he said quietly. “Like he needs to be put back together before he can be a good father again.” Shane’s heart stopped when Aaron turned to look at him. “Nothing about Mr. Carter needs to be fixed. He’s
already
a good father and an amazing person.”

Shane barely heard the judge’s next question, or Aaron’s answer to it. He sat back in his seat, his mouth still open, parted in anticipation of all the words he knew he couldn’t say.

He felt the sting of tears in his eyes, the lump of emotion in his throat, and in that moment he knew what had been missing. He knew why he’d felt so empty inside, even with the prospect of seeing Becca.

It was Aaron.

He needed Aaron. He loved Aaron.

And he hoped to God he still had a chance.

* * *

B
efore the hearing was over
, Aaron was escorted out of the room, and Shane was sure he’d never catch him in time. He stayed—he couldn’t do anything else when his future with his daughter was on the line—but when the doors were opened, he saw Aaron sitting outside on the bench next to Becca, and the broken pieces of his world slowly slid back into place.

He had no idea if the judge would give him a shot. After hearing both sides of the case, he’d said he needed some time to think about what was best for the child, and that was that. Shane’s lawyer hadn’t celebrated, but he hadn’t slunk away, either.

In Shane’s mind, that meant he still had a chance, and if the judge turned him down this time, he would keep fighting. He would work three jobs if he had to, if it meant paying for the best possible lawyer to get him time with his daughter.

It was such an about-face from the mood in which he’d walked into the courthouse that Shane was almost staggered by it. But he knew the reason. He knew the person who’d managed to drag that hope out of him, even when he’d tried so hard to resist.

And now that person was just a few feet away, smiling at his daughter. Becca was showing him something on her mom’s phone, and Aaron looked completely absorbed.

If Becca was the only reason Aaron hadn’t left yet, then thank fuck for small miracles.

He started toward them, unwilling to let David get in his way this time. But Shell’s voice made him stop.

“Shane, hold up.”

He tensed, and grabbed hold of that small surge of hope, silently praying it wasn’t about to be stripped away.

“Can we talk for a second?” Shell’s eyes were filled with an emotion Shane couldn’t quite read.

It almost seemed like regret.

He glanced at Becca and Aaron one last time. At the sound of Shane’s name, Aaron had looked up, but he hadn’t bolted yet.

“Yeah, sure.”

Shell led him just a few paces away from the door, and he kept Aaron and his daughter squarely fixed in his peripheral vision, half tempted to ask Buttercup to go sit by them and keep them both occupied.