Page 5 of A Cursed Heart
Once her casket moved through the curtain, we all filtered out of the building.
A few people passed on their sympathies, but no one stuck around to reminisce over old times.
Not that I blamed them. Guilt was eating me alive.
I just wanted to move on from the situation and raise my daughter in peace.
Waiting outside the building was the social worker assigned to us from CPS.
Donna was a no-nonsense woman I’d have liked under any other circumstances.
Except, I always got the feeling that she didn’t like me all that much, though I didn’t get why.
I was college educated, nothing on my adult record aside from a couple of parking tickets, held a steady, if boring, IT job where I mainly worked from home.
My apartment had a small mortgage thanks to the inheritance my grandpa left me.
No debt. No addiction. Hell, I barely even drank beer!
I was decent looking, too. Maybe that was it.
My looks intimidated her. I bit back a laugh at myself.
Okay, I worked out. Usually, some weights after Freya went to bed.
I looked after my skin and used more than one product in the shower.
I was a catch, dammit, so why couldn’t I charm Donna into liking me?
“Hey,” I greeted her.
“Mr. Mallory, is now a good time to do a check of your home?”
My smile felt forced. “Sure. Do you want to follow me in your car, or would you like a ride?” I tried to be as polite as possible.
Thankfully, my mom had warned me that CPS was going to keep an eye on me for a while until they felt convinced I wasn’t harming Freya.
Sucked, even though I understood the reasoning.
She opted to drive her own car, which was a blessing. She would have probably found fault with my driving or something. Manners had made me ask. I was constantly walking on eggshells around her.
Donna was waiting for me in the parking lot behind my small apartment block. There were eight units over four floors. Tiny compared to some blocks nearby. The area was decent, with Freya’s school and a park within walking distance.
In the safety of my car, I took a couple of deep breaths, then repeated, “You’ve got this,” until I almost believed it.
We took the elevator to the fourth floor. “Did I tell you about the rooftop garden?”
“You did. Have you decided what you’re going to plant?”
“Freya wants to plant sunflowers this time. Then, try some fruit next year. They’re her favorite flowers.”
“That sounds lovely!” For once, she sounded genuinely happy about something.
I let her enter the apartment first, watching as her assessing eye ran over the dishes from breakfast stacked next to the sink, waiting for me to wash them. She took in the toys in the living room, a basket of clean laundry sitting next to the couch where I’d folded it the other day.
Instead of following her around and explaining every little thing, I tackled the dishes. My nerves were shot while she inspected my home, but shadowing her was worse. I hated seeing her writing her notes with a frown on her face.
“Alright, Mr. Mallory, everything looks good here. How’s Freya doing after losing her mom?”
“About as well as you’d expect. My mom helped me find a great child therapist. We’re doing once a week sessions right now. She’s only five. I don’t think she really understands that her mom has gone.”
“Yes, her age makes the situation more complicated. I’ve been in touch with her school, and they are happy with how she is dealing with the trauma. They said her aunt is picking her up today?”
Clearly, Donna was wondering why I wasn’t taking care of that since I obviously had the time.
School let out in an hour, and here I was, at home, with nothing to do.
I’d taken PTO for the funeral, and I’d banked plenty of hours already, getting up a few hours before Freya to work before having a break to take her to school.
“I wasn’t sure if there was anything I needed to do after the service or if any of Jasmine’s friends would want to catch up after. Didn’t want to be late for Freya. Besides, she likes hanging out with my sister.”
Satisfied with my answers, Donna left soon after. I didn’t get to relax, though. I went to make a coffee to settle my nerves when I realized we were out of milk.
“Fuck!”
The grocery store was packed, making it a miserable time for all involved. Lydia was feeding Freya a snack, but I still had dinner to think about. Sometimes Lydia didn’t get what Freya liked to eat. Five-year-olds were picky.
By the time I got back to my apartment, I was done with people for the day.
“Mr. Mallory?” a tall, well-built man asked. He was standing next to my door looking menacing.
Wary, I set my grocery bags down, freeing my hands. “Yeah, that’s me.”
“My boss wants a word. You got time?” Fairly considerate, maybe, yet I doubted his intentions.
“Can I drop these inside first? I’ve got to get back—”
“For your kid. Freya, right?” I nodded, hackles raised. “Mr. Salvatore wants a word.”
My heart stopped for a second. Sloane Salvatore, aka, The Scythe. The coldest bastard you never wanted to meet. Unfortunately, he owned half the damn city, and controlled the underworld. He had his fingers in everything, especially the drugs since they were so lucrative.
“What does he want with me?”
“I’ll leave that to Mr. Salvatore to explain.”