---

The paper rustles in my hand. It’s a list Pops left on the counter. He didn’t tell me about it, but I’m sure it was for us.

Bottles.

Pacifiers.

Bibs.

Onesies.

It goes on for a bit, but it’s shit I need to buy I’m sure.

Mason says I need to be seen in public, make sure the tail James has on me sees me keeping my distance, moving on. He wants them to back off and that means I need to look like I’m backing off too.

I look down the aisle as a kid runs past, making swooshing noises and holding a plane up in the air. It’s crazy that one day, I’m going to have one of them. A kid. A baby first. And before that, a pregnant wife.

It’s fucking terrifying.

“Hey,” I call out as the young guy in a blue Kiddie Korner t-shirt walks by with a clipboard in his hand. He has to push his glasses up when he looks at me. “Can I help you, sir?” he asks me.

“Yeah, I was looking for simple baby things. Like bottles and tiny clothes. Things like that,” I tell him. “I can’t find them anywhere in here.”

“We don’t have infant merchandise. You’ll have to go to Little Treasures,” he says and starts walking to the center of the store to point. “Two blocks down and make a right. It’s a bit of a walk, but it’s right there on your left.”

“Thanks,” I reply and slip the paper back into my pocket. If there’s a way to get Kat to really forgive me, I know it’s to be the best dad I can be. I hope I don’t fuck that up too. Although I’m sure I will.

I rub my tired eyes and then walk out of the shop, hearing the ding of the bells above my head and am instantly greeted with the bitter cold.

Just as I’m shoving my hands into my pockets, I see Detective Bradshaw.

“It’s one of those days,” I mutter beneath my breath as he kicks off the wall. Guess the prick was waiting for me.

“Mr. Thompson,” he says as he walks over to me.

I take a few steps forward as a couple of kids run behind me and into the store. Meeting him halfway I answer him, “Detective Bradshaw, nice to see you again.” Not fucking really.

He huffs a laugh like he heard my thought and says, “I’m glad I found you here.”

“A bit odd that we just happened to run into each other,” I tell him, holding his gaze and letting him know that I know he must’ve been following me. “Not my usual hangout.”

“Yeah, I noticed. Your schedule’s a bit different now?” he says like it’s a question.

“A bit.”

“For the best, I hope?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I say and my word comes out hard. My back’s still and my muscles are wound tight. “You taking me in?” I ask him.

I wait as he assesses me, enjoying the suspense.

“Should I?” he asks.

“I can’t think of any reason off the top of my head,” I tell him.

He doesn’t think my answer’s funny in the least. My lips quirk up into a smirk at his hardass expression.

“I’m good to go then?” I ask.

“You got any new information for me?” he answers back and gets to the point of this meeting.

“I got nothing to say.”

“Why are you doing this to yourself? Protecting someone who wants to issue harassment charges?” he asks me and I can’t help that my forehead creases with both confusion and anger.

“Oh,” Detective Bradshaw says, finally showing a little joy. “You didn’t hear?” He rocks on his feet, like he’s so happy to deliver the news. “James Lapour wanted for us to keep you away from him. He filed for a restraining order and all.”

“That’s why you’re here?” I ask him.

“He said you were snooping around, making him uncomfortable and issuing threats.”

“Threats?” I echo, getting angrier and angrier by the second.

“Nothing solid we could work with, so I thought I’d give you a shadow.”

“Ah, and thus this wonderful meeting,” I answer him, not daring to ask any more or give him anything else. I don’t talk to cops. Never have, never will. Half the city’s cops are in someone’s back pocket.

“I’m sorry to say, I couldn’t really give two shits about James Lapour.”

Detective Bradshaw’s less than pleased with my disinterest. “Just thought you’d like to know.”

“Thanks Detective, am I good to go now?”

“Have a good day,” he mutters as he walks past me, brushing my shoulder as he goes.

I finally bring my hands out of my pocket and see my clenched fist and the scrap of paper balled up. My breathing comes in shorter and my blood heats.

This shit has to stop. Right fucking now.

---

Diary Entry 2

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Dear Pops, 

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I'm ashamed.  I feel like I've lost complete control and I know it's hurting Kat. 

Help me be a better husband and take the nightmares away.  Please.  Just get them out of my head. 

It's just getting worse every night, and it's scaring my wife. 

What kind of a man am I?  Dreams are tearing my life apart. 

I can't sleep without seeing you.  Don't get me wrong, I love and miss you so damn much.  But you always die in my dreams.  You're just gone.  All of the memories of our life together are changing.  I don't want them to, but I don't know how to stop it.  

I have them with Kat too and it's killing me.

I yelled last night and it woke me up.  Kat was crying next to me, Pops.  She said she'd been trying to wake me up and that's when I started screaming. 

She's worried, and I feel like less of a man and husband because I can't stop it.  

Please Pops, if you're there and you're able, please help me. 

I miss you.  I can't stand this.  

Please just take it all back.