How did he get my number? How did he find me?
I changed my number years ago. I’ve been so careful. So, so careful.
I remind myself to breathe, then to slowly exhale and breathe again.
It was just a phone call. He doesn’t know where I am. He can’t hurt me. He can’t hurt April.
I set the phone face-down on my desk and stare at it like it might bite me.
It’s fine. I’m fine. I just need to forget it. Pretend it never happened. Steven is in the past, and that’s exactly where he’s going to stay.
I turn back to my computer and try to focus on work, but the words on the screen blur together. My hands are still trembling, and no matter how many times I tell myself to calm down, my body won’t listen.
The morning drags by in a haze. I manage to finish the invoices, even though I have to double-check my work three times because I keep entering the wrong numbers. My client emails are short and probably a little more direct than they should be, but at least they’re professional.
By lunchtime, I’m starting to feel almost normal again. The shaking has stopped. My heart rate has returned to somethingclose to normal. I even manage to eat half a sandwich without feeling nauseous.
Which I’m taking as pretty solid proof that I’m fine. I can handle one fucked-up phone call every decade or so.
I’m about to dive back into work when my phone rings again.
It’s a different number this time with a local area code. And maybe I’m not fine after all, because I almost reflexively decline the call after the first ring.
But no. I refuse to live in fear. If I start rejecting calls now, I’ll be jumping at shadows for weeks. I can’t let Steven do this to me again.
I answer. “Hello?”
“Ms. Lucas? This is Mrs. Delgado, April’s principal.”
Every muscle in my body clenches so hard and tight that I nearly double over.
“Is April okay? Did something happen?” I’m about two seconds away from a full-blown panic attack, but I know I need to hold it together for April’s sake.
“She’s safe and in the office with me right now,” Principal Delgado says quickly, but I can hear the tension in her voice. “We do have a situation here, though. There’s a man claiming to be April’s father. He’s demanding to take her home, and he’s becoming increasingly agitated. I’ve told him he’s not on our approved pickup list, but he’s insisting?—”
I don’t hear the rest.
My chair crashes backward as I jump to my feet, and I’m already grabbing my purse and keys.
“I’m on my way,” I shout into the phone as I run toward the door. “Don’t let him near her. Do you hear me? Don’t let him anywhere near my daughter.”
“We won’t, Ms. Lucas. I promise. But please hurry.”
Steven is at April’s school. Steven found her.
My worst nightmare is playing out in real time, and I’m helpless to stop it.
I don’t remember getting to my car. I don’t remember starting it or pulling out of the parking lot. My entire world has narrowed until the only thing I’m focused on, the only thing that matters, is getting to April.
How did he find her school? How did this happen?
The school comes into view and my vision tunnels as I bypass the parking lot and drive right up to the curb that’s closest to the front door. I’m so focused on getting to my daughter that I don’t even see Steven standing in front of me until I’ve almost trampled him.
I stop a few feet away from him, close enough to get a good look at the man who made my life a living hell for so long.
He looks older and harder, if that’s even possible. His hair is thinner than I remember, and there are new lines around his mouth. But his eyes—those cold, calculating eyes—are exactly the same.
“There she is,” he says. “The world’s best mom.”
