Deep breaths, she reminded herself, even as her heart raced. She forced her hand to relax around her phone and rationalize.
Normal. Natural. The night was gusty and she’d purposely left the door open as she walked through the sprawling Craftsman home, hoping the fresh, cold air wouldhelp keep her wits about her. The scent of autumn leaves and lemon floor cleaner followed her, grounding her in the present so she didn’t get lost in old memories of a sticky Tennessee summer when her life had turned into a hell she couldn’t escape.
The whole town seemed united in hating their family, resenting the wealth the Chances had stockpiled, assuming all of it was ill-gotten gains. Maybe it had been, based on her father’s crimes. Gabriella had never found out for certain. She’d just wanted the pain to stop. She’d needed someone to tell her it would be okay. That they could still be a family after her father went to jail.
Except her mother had been unreachable. She’d turned into a stranger, spending all her time at the jail or with the lawyers, plotting appeals. Was it any wonder Gabby had been so hungry for attention she’d been sitting next to the computer whenever those chat messages arrived?
Later—after the assault—she’d been so desperate for her mother’s attention…
She’d tried to kill herself.
The realization rocked her.
All these years she’d thought the overdose had been about the attack. She couldn’t deal with the memories of the way Covington had held her down and ripped at her clothes, spouting filth about her. But Jeremy Covington’s touch hadn’t been the only thing that shattered her. Her mother hadn’t fought for her when Zach suggested he take her to the west coast. Her mother hadn’t insisted she go with them. Protect them. She’d turned them out.
Running a palm over the sill of the closest window, she wished it wasn’t so dark out. She wanted to see view she remembered well. She leaned into the cold glass, breathing deeply again in hopes of easing the hurt. Of airing out thepain of her mom’s refusal to step up and take charge when Gabby’s life spun out of control.
That abandonment had driven her to protect Mia at all costs to spare her the same hurt. All these years she’d told herself she was a valiant protector of the victims in her support group. But all along she’d been trying to make sure other victims had a network of support that Gabby had been denied.
Now she was sitting in this most frightening of all places, the spot where despair had nearly ended a life that was both fragile and precious. And she was okay. Scarred but still standing. Clay had helped her to see that she wasn’t weak for needing others to lift her up—her brother, Sam and now Clay. They had all helped her to be stronger in the same way she encouraged those in her support group, giving them faith in themselves. It may have taken ten years, but she finally saw her journey for what it was—a battle to be worthy of her mom’s love.
She knew it was a battle she would never win. But it helped to recognize her suicide attempt for what it was. More than just a reaction to the assault, but a cry for her mom to care.
The need to see Clay—to thank him for being there for her this week and letting her face her old demons—was so strong she wanted to drive to the hospital and be with him. Sit by his side and help however she could. Explain why she’d been so determined not to walk away from Mia. She peered outside the bedroom window where moonlight glinted on the driveway Zach had redone with pavers.
At the top of the driveway was a sedan she didn’t recognize. A friend of Zach’s? Or maybe it was Heather’s car? Zach said she hadn’t been feeling well today, so maybe she’d driven back to Heartache? A trickle of fear snaked throughher, even as she assured herself there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for the vehicle being there.
Except then she heard another door slam somewhere downstairs. What if it wasn’t the wind? She remembered that string of break-ins Zach had mentioned.
Silently Gabriella walked to the door, stepping lightly while she held her phone full of security codes. Codes she’d been so intent on unlocking that she hadn’t re-armed the system behind her. She’d wanted the fresh air. Now that Jeremy Covington was on trial, she hadn’t been afraid of real-life attackers, only the ghosts in this childhood bedroom. She cursed herself for being ten kinds of idiot. Why have a security system if you didn’t use it?
Zach had reminded her tonight at the reunion that there was a safe room in this place. All she had to do was find it and lock herself inside then call Clay. Her throat closed up tight as she set foot in the hallway.
“Mia?”
A man’s voice shouted from downstairs. An unfamiliar voice.
Gabriella froze. Her heart pounded.
Who would be searching for Mia here? The knowledge gave her all the more courage since she planned to protect the teen at any cost. She checked her phone to find the location of the safe room—close to Zach’s office in the basement, two floors down.
Damn it. She couldn’t think how to get past the main floor without the intruder seeing her. Unless she somehow lured him up one set of steps while she sneaked down another. Picking up a vase she recognized as one of the gifts her father brought home from a trip abroad—probably worth a small fortune—Gabriella heaved it to the far end of the hallway near the main stairs.
It shattered against the wall, the broken shards scattering in every direction. Downstairs, she heard movement. Hoping the intruder was drawn in the direction of the crash, Gabriella slipped down a smaller set of carpeted stairs in the back of the house that led to the family room, but she didn’t stop there.
Her heart in her throat, her lips pursed tightly to keep any sound from escaping and alerting the intruder, she crept all the way down to the basement and into a closet. She closed the door behind her as the scent of cedar chips hit her nose. She pushed aside the suits and coats hung on the clothes rack to find a second door at the back. Her pulse pounded so hard she felt unsteady. Fumbling with her phone, she searched for the code to use on the entry panel. A long, complicated code that Zach must know by heart. She messed it up twice.
Sweat rolled down her forehead and she heard footsteps nearby. Closer and closer they came while she tried typing the right number of backslashes, semicolons and uppercase letters until…
Click.
The lock opened.
She slipped inside just as the closet door opened. She caught the slightest glance of a young man’s sneering face, blond hair spiked in fat clumps that stood out like multiple horns.
“Where’s Mia?” he shouted at her as the door closed behind her, locking her in a room she trusted he’d never get inside.
A safe room. Installed by someone who never could have imagined how much it would help his sister.
