"My daughter is fine." The lie sat between us, heavy. Her pupils were blown wide. "You come over here all concerned and judgmental, and you act like you're some kind of authority. Like you're the perfect parent."
For a heartbeat, my anger softened into something like pity. Exhaustion radiated off her like heat from asphalt. The hollows under her eyes looked carved into her flesh.
None of that made what I'd seen okay.
"I saw you," I said, louder, firmer.
She blanched.
"I saw what you did." I took a breath, steeled myself. "Earliertonight, I was out back with Apollo. I could see your patio. I saw you grab her, Brooke."
Her eyes flared. A flush crawled up her throat. "You were spying on us?"
"I was walking my dog." I held up the leash as evidence. Apollo panted agreeably. "You were out on the patio. You were yelling at Alexis. You told her to keep her mouth shut."
Her words slurred slightly. "You have no idea what you saw."
"Then tell me. Help me to understand. I'm not the enemy here."
"You sure sound like the enemy to me."
"I'm not." I took a breath. "Brooke, listen. If you need help, there are resources. I could give you numbers. I could help."
"Resources. What are you gonna do, give me a pamphlet?"
"If you want to talk to someone?—"
"I have a therapist. Two, actually. I have a pediatric neurologist on call, an IEP team, a behaviorist, and an occupational therapist, all for my son's special needs. And you know what? None of them show up at my door late at night to make me feel terrible about myself. Is that what you want, Dahlia?"
"I'm not trying to make you feel bad. I'm trying to make sure your daughter is safe."
"I don't need your advice. Or your pity."
"I'm not offering pity. Just support."
Her mouth twisted, teeth flashing. "You think you're better than me, don't you?"
I blinked, taken aback. "No, I just?—"
"I see it in your eyes," she snarled. "Judging me, my children. Well, newsflash, Dahlia—we're not all perfect."
"I'm not judging."
"Save it for someone who cares."
"Let me help you."
She recoiled. "I don't need help. Certainly not from you."
"Brooke, please. I'm just trying to be a friend."
She laughed hollowly. "Friend? We were never friends."
Her words stung more than I cared to admit. I took a step back, aghast. "You don't mean that."
"Don't I? You're Rowan's little pet project, that's all. She loves to adopt lost birds with broken wings, or haven't you noticed?"
I flinched. The insult landed, and she knew it. Brooke's sharp gaze raked over my face, cataloguing the damage. She almost smiled. "Hit a nerve?"
