I stare at it longer than I should.
Lucy’s smiling in the picture, but there’s that same guardedness around her eyes I noticed in person.Like happiness for her always comes with one shoulder braced for impact.
Something hot and ugly curls in my gut.I scroll enough to confirm what I already guessed.Works at the diner some mornings, picks up extra shifts at the party store during festival season, no husband in sight, no man in any photos.
Then I stop.Because this is the line Chux mentioned.And because I don’t need to know more tonight.I toss the phone onto the bed beside me and lie back, one forearm over my eyes.
Sleep should come easy.It usually does after a ride, a drink, and a fistfight.But every time I close my eyes, I see her turning toward me in that bar.
Scared.Then relieved.Then wary all over again.
I don’t know what the hell that means.Only that tomorrow, when morning hits Freedom Falls and folks start talking about the fool who got put through a table at the Black Rose, I’ll probably hear more about Lucy Coe whether I want to or not.
And the real problem?I want to.
More than I should.
THREE
LUCY
Parking the car, I let out a sigh.I pay Zoe, my neighbor’s teenage daughter who is an amazing babysitter for Quinn and watch her make it safely into her home before taking my shoes off just inside my front door and settling in.
Quinn sleeps like the world is perfect.The peaceful life of a child.How I wish I could relive the innocence of childhood again.I stand in the doorway of her room for a long moment, watching her chest rise and fall beneath the blanket with the faded yellow daisies on it.One arm is flung over her head, her stuffed rabbit tucked under her chin, her hair a soft halo against the pillow.
Five years old and somehow already the strongest person I know.
My throat tightens as the guilt hits me once again.I wish I could have given her a better life.A beginning filled with love, safety, and security.
The house is quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator and the occasional passing car on the road outside.The clock on the microwave reads 9:48.
Later than I planned to be home.Then again, nothing about tonight has gone to plan.I step quietly into Quinn’s room and tuck the blanket back around her shoulders where it’s slipped down.
She stirs.“Mommy?”
My heart squeezes.“I’m here, baby.”Being her mom is the very best name I’ve ever had.
Her eyes blink open, heavy with sleep.“You were gone when it was time to read.”
“I know.”I smooth her hair back gently.“Just ran out for a little bit.”
“You said you had to talk to somebody.”Kids remember everything.“I heard you tell Ms.Zoe.”
“Yeah,” I reply softly.“But it didn’t take long.”
“Was it Daddy?”
The word sits heavy in the air.I swallow because I don’t want to lie to her.“Yes.”
Her little brow wrinkles the way it always does when she’s thinking hard.“Did he come?”
“No.”I sigh.“We crossed wires and had a mix up in times.It’s okay, baby.”
“Okay.”Just like that.No sadness.No questions.Because Quinn remembers him, but doesn’t seek out time with him.The pureness, the naivety of children where they take things at face value.And the part of me that should probably feel guilty about that mostly just feels relieved.
She yawns and snuggles deeper into the pillow.“Night, Mommy.”
“Goodnight, sweetheart.”I kiss her forehead and slip quietly back out of the room, pulling the door halfway closed behind me.
