“Aelin—”
“What would I look for?”
Ryan stammered. “I—I’m not sure, you could go into your settings and look at app storage or privacy?—”
“Okay. Okay, I’ll do that.”
“Aelin, I can?—”
“No, Ryan. Thank you. I’ll take care of it.” She forced herself up off the floor. The porch pillars swam around her. She held the phone to her cheek a second longer, then dropped her arm and closed the front door.
Chapter
Twenty-Six
Aelin found the app.It was called PhantomLink and it was installed on July 1st. She uninstalled it, threw up twice, considered smashing her phone with a sledgehammer, then somehow made it through crafts with the girls that morning. She made a healthy lunch, then popped popcorn and set up a blanket tent for a movie in the afternoon. They were all still exhausted from the trip, so rest was the goal. At least for the girls.
As soon as they were settled, Aelin sat down at her laptop. She called her lawyer. They surveyed the damage. She asked Aelin for screenshots, which she’d thankfully taken, and promised to submit a motion to suppress since the information was taken without her permission.
But the damage was already done. This would set back any sort of court decision by months after their final mediation, and it definitely didn’t look as cut and dry as it had a few weeks prior.
There was nothing she could do.
Aelin felt the cold descend like a veil.All systems shutting down.She blinked at her screen and opened up three tabs fordifferent real estate websites her friends had recommended, then took a deep breath and typed in her search criteria.
House. Three bedrooms. Under $400,000.
There was a problem she could work on. One she had to find a solution for.
She knew how unlikely it would be for her to find something with that criteria in their part of the city, but the idea of moving Bailey to a new school made her sick to her stomach. And renting . . . those prices were astronomical.
She clicked through listings, focusing on locations. There was a townhouse listed in the north end, but it was right off the freeway and had no yard. Another had a yard, but the carpet was bright green and she could see water damage on the ceiling.
She groaned and clicked through to the second real estate website. A two-bedroom apartment a few minutes south. No yard. A one-bedroom house north of the school. Out of her price range. A basement suite?
Not good enough. Her thoughts churned as she scrolled. She needed to find something stable. Something that would make the judge look at her and think,"This woman has her crap together."
She scrolled. And scrolled. Her hope dying a little more with each click of the mouse. Everything that fit her criteria was either in a dodgy neighbourhood, had no yard, or was way out of her budget. She rubbed her eyes and closed her laptop.
Tomorrow. She’d look again tomorrow.
_____
Aelin parked and got out of the car at the ice centre, then waited for Amaya to unbuckle her seatbelt. She hadn't been payingattention to the clock when she'd gone down the rabbit hole of house hunting, and now she was five minutes late.
She walked with Amaya to the front door and made sure she got to the correct rink. It had been a week since she’d last attended camp, and Aelin wasn’t sure if it was going to be in the same place.
The sound of skates on ice echoed through the building, and she followed the noise until she reached the rink. Parents were lined up along the benches, watching their kids, and Aelin scanned the ice as Amaya waved and ran to find her equipment.
Her heart twisted when she spotted Ryan in the middle, his back to her as he knelt next to a little boy who was struggling to keep his balance.
She wanted their lake days back. She wanted to be the person she was there. Calm. Flexible. Not the dead inside robot trying to properly interpret her surroundings.
But what happened on the driveway the night before had snapped the last twelve years into focus. She wouldn’t spend another second begrudging who she’d become because what she’d felt the night before? That was what her body was protecting her from.
And as long as Clark was in her life, she was going to need that shield. Mediation was on the nineteenth, but she was going to have to work with him every week until Bailey turned eighteen. She wouldn’t be able to escape to California. She wouldn’t be able to hide from any of it.
How could she heal when he’d always be right there twisting the knife?
