“Heather, you are an amazing mom.”
“Am I?” She turns to look at me with genuine uncertainty in her eyes. “Sometimes it feels like I’m fumbling through one day after another, hoping I don’t screw things up too badly.”
“Are you kidding me? April is smart, kind, funny, and resilient. She is all of those things because of you. Because of the way you’ve raised her, not in spite of it.”
She looks thoughtful, like she’s going to say something else. Instead, she faces the window and watches the world go by. We drive in comfortable silence for a few minutes before she speaks again.
“I’m sure you remember those scars you saw that night when we were in the sauna together.” She swallows hard and takes a deep breath. “I’m ready to tell you what happened, if you still want to know.”
My hands tighten on the steering wheel because I’m pretty sure I know where she’s heading. Still, I can’t let my anger about whatever happened to her cloud my reaction now. Just the fact that she trusts me enough to confide in me about something so personal is humbling enough to keep my other feelings in check.
“I only want to know what you’re comfortable telling me,” I say, knowing she needs to get this out on her own terms.
“I was in an abusive relationship with April’s father, Steven. It started small, with a cruel word here or a hint of jealousy there. He was always so charming and persuasive. I never thought when we moved to Montana that he was deliberately trying to cut me off from friends and family, but I know now that it was some textbook abuser shit. And they all seem to use the same playbook because it works. By the time it escalated to physical abuse, I felt so isolated and trapped that I didn’t know how to get out.”
I’ve never met Steven and I probably never will, but I’m dangerously angry with him. No, this is more than anger. This cold, dull ache in my chest is righteous fury, and I would gladly take revenge on Heather’s behalf for every scar that abusive asshole put on her.
But none of this is about me. This is about Heather and April and the monster they were brave and lucky enough to escape.
“How long were you stuck with him?”
“Too long.” She shakes her head. “Even after April was born, I was still lying to myself, still telling myself he would change or that I could fix him, that leaving would somehow be worse for April than staying.”
I reach across the center console and take her hand. If we weren’t already so close to April’s school, I’d pull this truck over right here and now so I could do more.
“What I said before still stands.” I give her hand a gentle squeeze.
My own hand is so much bigger that it completely covers hers and makes her seem that much more delicate and fragile. That’s not true, though. She might be smaller than I am, but she’s tough, she’s strong, and she’s been through more than her fair share of shitty situations. Still, that doesn’t mean she can’t use some reassurance.
“You’re an amazing mom. You got yourself and April out of a dangerous, fucked up situation. You rebuilt your lives from nothing. And not only that, but you still work every day to help other women get out of similar situations. That’s not failure. That’s strength. That’s overcoming the odds and then reaching back to help the next person in line.”
“It doesn’t always feel like strength.” Her eyes are bright with unshed tears, but she somehow manages to hold them back while still questioning her own strength. “A lot of days, most days, it feels like I’m barely keeping my head above water.”
“Maybe you’re too close to see it clearly.” I give her hand one more little squeeze before I let go. “But I can see it, and I know April can see it too. You saved both of you.”
Chapter 15
Heather
You saved both of you.
Grant’s words hit me hard, making my throat close up even as the tightness in my chest finally loosens a little.
I turn to look at him—to really look at him—as we sit at the red light just a few blocks from April’s school. There wasn’t a trace of flattery or insincerity in his tone, and his expression is still as solid and reassuring as always.
He meant each one of those words, and he makes me feel seen and heard and safe in a way that I haven’t felt in way too long. Not since before I got messed up with my ex, at the very least.
“Thank you,” is the best I can do for now. “For saying that. And for seeing me that way.”
His eyes meet mine, and the shift in the air between us is so sudden and intense that the next breath I draw in is more of a shudder.
“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you,” he says.
My eyes drop to his lips, just for half a second, and I remember exactly how they felt against mine that night in the bathtub. The memory makes my cheeks instantly flush with heat, and I wonder if he can tell what I’m thinking about.
Judging by the hungry, hot flare in his eyes, I’m pretty sure he’s experiencing the exact same flashback.
The light turns green and Grant has to focus on the road again, giving me a chance to get myself together in these last few minutes before April joins us.
