The woman is married, for Christ's sake, yet she’s determined to grab a brother, no, not a brother, but my boyfriend.
I shake my head and focus back on Caleb, guilt gnawing at my insides.
I killed his mama.
He had nothing to do with her and yes, she had problems—obvious ones—but she was still his mama and now, damn, when he’s older, he’ll hate me for this. He’ll never forgive me.
I ruined any chances of him knowing her when he’s ready.
My eyes well with tears and I blink several times, forcing myself not to let them fall.
I shouldn’t be here, I shouldn’t be allowed near these children after what I did.
I haven’t spoken to Alex, not once. I know he’s alright—Ace confirmed it when he picked Caleb up the next day. He said Alex wants to see me and begged me not to take too long, but the flashbacks keep hitting me.
Adam screwing Missy, which then changes to Alex screwing Cheryl, even though I know he was drugged. It doesn’t stop my mind from forming the worst before the flashbacks change to Adam's cold, dead eyes to Cheryl's and it doesn’t help that Freya keeps calling, angry that I didn't tell her and her mom I was in town so they could meet Lyra. As if I would allow them near her after the crap they’ve threatened after suddenly popping up after years of silence.
I'm at my breaking point and want to run to Alex, but I can't because the flashbacks keep hitting me.
The warning bell rings, and I clear my throat before asking, “Who finished the whole alphabet with a word for each letter?”
Caleb and Lyra raise their hands, while everyone else scrunches up their noses in disappointment.
“Okay,” I chuckle, “Caleb and Lyra win the golden eggs.”
Their friends cheer for them, making me smile at how amazing my kids are and I announce, “Mrs. Trivers will be here in a moment to take you all outside. Please clean up your things, grab your bags, and line up.”
I grab one of the two golden eggs, which are chocolate eggs wrapped in gold foil, from my desk and place it on my desk to give it to Caleb before he walks out. Lyra will eat hers in a minute while I shut everything down before we head home.
Yesterday I took Caleb home, the day before that, Alex picked him up and Lyra up, or that is what Mrs. Trivers said, anyhow.
I haven’t gone out since I returned, and not just because I’m dodging Alex, but also because of the parents.
Dread knots my stomach wondering if they’ll fall for Mrs. Jones’s lies that she keeps spreading, that they’ll demand my termination…
Mrs. Trivers walks in just as the kiddos all line up, and she grins widely, “Are we all ready?”
“Yes, Miss,” they call just as Caleb rushes my way.
I give him a grin and pass him the egg before he kisses my cheek, then hops back into line as Mrs. Trivers chuckles.
“Come on then,” she calls the kids leave one by one, each waving at me while my daughter stays at the table, focused on coloring and I take a deep breath, trying to forget Cheryl’s dead eyes that haunt me.
“Do you want your egg, sweetheart?” I ask Lyra as the last kid leaves, but Lyra shakes her head and looks at me with sad eyes.
I tilt my head at her and ask, “What’s wrong, baby?”
She sniffles, “When are we going to stay with D-Mr. Dirty?”
Oh crap, was she about to…
“Lyra, were you about to call Mr. Dirty, daddy?”
She looks down like she’s in trouble and I quickly stand and rush over to her just as my door opens again, but I ignore whoever it is—most likely Mrs. Violet, since we’ve only spoken once during that call when she pleaded for me to come back.
Whether she wants me back because I’m good at my job or because the club threatened to pull its funding, I don’t know, but I also don’t care.
My daughter is hurting.
