Hendrix meets me outside their home in Mobile. Even though they stay mostly in Pensacola, they kept Mia’s house here for visits.
“Hey, man, how’s Lake doing?” He looks as exhausted as I feel.
“Not good.”
“Saint.” Mia smiles, holding the baby over her shoulder as she rubs circles on his back. “Come inside. I have fresh coffee and muffins, and we’ll talk.”
Following along behind her, it feels weird being here without Coral and Charlotte underfoot, fighting, laughing, or driving Hendrix insane. Despite them being their adopted daughters, I know he’d kill for either one of them. Hell, we all would. They fit right in with our family and have bonded with everyone. Coral, in particular, has taken a liking to me, and I can’t understand why. She always texts to check up on me or sends things she thinks I’ll find funny.
“Sit.” Mia points to a stool, then hands me the sleeping infant with a smirk.
“Uhhh….” I don’t know what the hell to do with one of these. Despite my sister Scotlyn having her own children, and how often they visit us. Kids, for some reason, gravitate towards me.
“Relax, Saint, he looks good on you,” Hendrix jokes, and I’m tempted to slap him silly, but the infant in my arms prevents that.
Mia places a coffee and a muffin in front of me from across the island counter and glances at her husband before sighing and offering me a folder with some papers in it. “I understand you want what is best for Lake; we all do, but I have to warn you. Even though it’s been years and she’s been getting help, she may never be okay.” A faraway look enters her eyes, and I imagine she’s thinking of someone else.
“There’s got to be something I can do. Some way for me to help her that everyone else is failing at.” I failed Lake once; I can’t do it again. Not when she’s so fragile and ready to check out before we’ve had a chance.
“I think you need to speak to her therapist.” I scoff at that, not sold on the idea that the woman is helping Lake. “I’m serious. She won’t be able to give you details of their sessions, but she might have some insight into what could help Lake going forward.”
“What else?” Grinding my teeth so I don’t verbalize my distrust, I listen to everything Mia says with an open mind.
“You’re not going to like it,” she says bluntly. “Stop protecting her so fiercely. Let Lake take the lead. As much as she’s comfortable with.”
“Stop protecting her.” That’s unfathomable.
“I don’t mean shove her into the wild and let her flounder. I mean, step back, let her explore and find her footing again.” That sounds reasonable. “Just be ready to catch her, Saint, because until she shares her story, nobody knows what she really went through. You may know what happened, but not from her point of view, and it’s incredibly important that everyone understands that what she experienced is likely ten times worse than what you’re all imagining.”
The words hit me like a ton of bricks. Mia is right. We know what happened from Bea’s stepsisters’ account and medical reports, but Lake has yet to express herself. And that’s likely the crux of the problem. She can’t heal because she hasn’t vocalized it to deal with the ramifications.
Getting her to the point she’s comfortable telling me, or anyone, will be the final battle. One I’m prepared to fight and conquer at her pace. I just need to figure out how to ready her for it.
“Thanks, guys, this has helped.”
Handing the baby back to Mia, I grab the muffin, chug the coffee, and head out. Plans must be made, and the drive home will be a good time to get started.
By my arrival back in Pensacola, I have a pit in my stomach. An awareness that something has happened, and I’m too late to do a damn thing about it.
CHAPTER 4
Lake
After Saint left and everyone else left me alone, I ran. I grabbed a backpack, stuffed it with the bare essentials, my ID, and as much cash as I had stashed away, and snuck off to the airport. I need space. I need time. I need to be able to walk into a room without everyone immediately looking at me with pity in their eyes.
The only person who treats me like I’m not fragile is my sister-in-law, Bea, but she’s so busy with the kids that they’re her priority. As it should be. I love my adorable nieces; nothing makes me happier than spending time with them, but I won’t taint them with my depressive mood swings. So, as I board the plane, heading to Evansville, Indiana, where I’ll pick up my rental car and drive the rest of the way to the town of Santa Claus, I try to remember that I shouldn’t feel guilty leaving the way I did. At least not to the extent I currently do. I left my parents a letter, explaining my decisions and that I’d call when I arrived at my rental cabin.
My phone is now off and will remain so until I’m ready to allow the outside world in again. Removing my headphones as I’m directed to my seat in first class, I remain hopeful that the other one remains empty.
Before storing my bag, I retrieve the book Stalked by the Assistant Coach by Mayra Statham, which I’ve held off on reading. It’s an obsessive second-chance football romance. Different than I ordinarily read, but I’m in the mood for something new. Once I’ve gathered my book, headphones to listen to music while reading, my bag of crunchy cheddar-jalapeño Cheetos, and a Cherry Twist Alani Nu, I put up my bag and buckle into my seat.
Boarding takes a bit, and I try to remain calm, instead focusing on the things I’ll do once I arrive in Santa Claus this evening. I’ve wanted to visit since I was a little girl. The Christmas town always seemed so fun. I’d imagined going with my family for years, then on my own, because with this feeling of being so lost, it’s better than nothing.
As the final few passengers board, and the flight attendants secure the overhead compartments before ensuring everyone is buckled up and their seats are in order, I release the breath I’ve been clinging to as the airplane door shuts and locks. I’ll have the seats to myself for this flight.
Once takeoff has commenced, and we’re in the air, I slip on my headphones and hit play on my AirPods before opening my book and diving in to become lost in the pages of a life not nearly as tragic as my own.
The weather stays smooth and clear as we glide through the puffy, white clouds, almost like we’re meant to be here. Lost in the beauty of the open sky, I don’t realize the flight attendant is trying to gain my attention until her hand touches my shoulder, and I nearly jump out of my skin, slapping a hand over my mouth so as not to make a sound.
