Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 60848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
He nodded, then jerked his chin toward the elevators. “Let’s get you back to your girls.”
I followed, numb but moving, and didn’t even notice until we were halfway to my floor that he was walking just behind me the whole way. I wanted to turn and say thank you, but the words stuck in my throat. If I spoke now, I knew I’d break down in front of this man, and I couldn’t do that. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
Once inside the apartment, Kira was already in bed, curled around Mr. Hoppers, but Zelda was waiting in the dark by the window, watching the street. She saw me come in and asked, “Did he go away?”
“For now,” I said, and knelt beside her. “We’re safe. Tiny made sure.”
She nodded, pressing her face against my shoulder. “He doesn’t scare easy, does he?”
“Who, Tiny?” I asked.
“Yeah. He’s not afraid of Dad.”
“He really isn’t,” I confirmed with a small smile. “Let’s get some sleep. Violet said Caleb was coming by in the morning to take you down for breakfast if you and Kira want to go ahead.”
“I like it here, Mommy.” Zelda spoke softly, sounding almost vulnerable. “No one’s scary to us. Only to people like Dad.”
“I know, baby. I like it here too.”
Zelda wrapped her thin arms around my waist, and we hugged each other for a long time before she let me go. Then she went to bed, but in her sister’s room. No doubt she’d sleep in there for several days until she felt certain the threat was over. Zelda would always protect her sister. No matter what.
As I passed by Kira’s room, I heard her ask softly, “Can we leave the bathroom light on tonight?”
I moved into the doorway. “Of course, sweetheart.” I kept my tone light.
“He’s not coming in,” Zelda said with conviction. “Tiny won’t let him.” OK, Zelda caught me off guard with that one. When had my fiercely suspicious daughter developed such faith in the giant biker?
“You’re right,” I agreed, surprising myself with how much I meant it. “Tiny and Knight and the others will keep us safe.”
Kira nodded solemnly. “Tiny promised. He doesn’t break promises.” Christ, this girl. Kira was only twelve, but she could read people better than any adult I’d ever met. Sure, she played like a kid sometimes, but she was growing up too Goddamned fast, and I had mixed feelings about it.
Once the girls were in bed, I lay awake in my own bed, staring at the ceiling as sleep refused to come. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Andy’s face, his perfect hair and expensive clothes masking the monster I knew lurked beneath.
I turned onto my side, pulling the blanket tighter around me. When we first met, Andy had seemed like salvation. A stable, successful man who wanted to take care of me and my twin girls. After struggling alone, working multiple jobs while being a new mother to twins, his attention had felt like the biggest relief.
Now, I realized how carefully he’d groomed me, how patiently he’d waited until I was fully dependent before the mask began to slip. Until the first full-blown rage that left me cowering in a corner, wondering what I’d done wrong. By then, my friends were gone, my independence surrendered, and my self-worth so eroded I believed I deserved everything he wanted to dish out.
I closed my eyes, but the darkness only made the memories sharper. I forced myself to focus on something else. Something good. My mind drifted to Tiny, standing between Andy and the door, immovable as a mountain. In the weeks since we’d arrived at Haven, I’d watched him with my daughters. The careful way he held himself when they were near, the gentle rumble of his voice when he spoke to them, the genuine care in his eyes when Kira had that panic attack.
The image of him sitting cross-legged on the floor, letting the girls drape tinsel over his massive shoulders, flashed across my mind. He’d been gentle as he steadied the card tower for Zelda. When Kira offered him Mr. Hoppers, that sacred threadbare rabbit she barely let out of her sight, he’d cradled it with such reverence, understanding the trust implicit in her simple gesture.
Andy’d never understood my daughters. They were possessions to him; extensions of himself when it suited him, annoying inconveniences when it didn’t. But Tiny saw them. Really saw them, their fears, their needs, their small, brave hearts.
I shifted again, restless with conflicting thoughts. Wasn’t this how it’d started with Andy too? Hadn’t I once thought he saw me when nobody else did? The fact that I was lying here, considering trusting another man after everything, made me question my own judgment. What if I was making the same mistake? What if the warm safety I felt around Tiny was just another trap waiting to spring?