“Yes,” Josie said, throat suddenly thick with emotion.
“That’s why he gave her to you,” Noah said. “He came into your life when you were the same age as Wren. He saw some of the things you endured.”
When Josie was three weeks old, she’d been kidnapped by a woman named Lila Jensen who had set the house on fire and escaped with Josie, using her as a way to get her ex-boyfriend, Eli Matson, back. The authorities believed Josie had perished in the fire. Eli had had no idea of the depths of Lila’s evil. He had been a wonderful, fiercely loving father, until Lila killed him. Once he was no longer there to protect her, Josie suffered years of horrific abuse, despite Eli’s mother Lisette’s valiant efforts to get custody of Josie.
“What Dex saw didn’t even scratch the surface,” Josie murmured into his back.
“He saw enough,” Noah said, laying the utensil down so he could cover her hands where they tightened around his waist.
Eventually, Lila met Dex, who was blinded by Lila’s beauty and fooled by the saccharine act she put on. Dex had proved to have a heart of gold. He’d shown up for Josie. Parented her more than Lila ever had. He’d taken care of her when she was sick, helped her with school assignments, made sure that she was never hungry, taken her to the emergency room when she needed medical attention, bought her books he thought she might like.
Josie shuddered. “I always felt so conflicted. I wished so hard that he’d never laid eyes on Lila and yet, if he hadn’t, I’m not sure I would have survived.”
Unfortunately, nothing provoked Lila’s rage like someone treating Josie kindly, especially when that kindness came from a man whose focus was supposed to be solely on her. In an effort to punish Dex, Lila had set his pillow on fire. Josie had gotten him out of their home quickly but not quickly enough. He’d been left disfigured, his face and head horrifically scarred.
“He didn’t regret it,” Noah reminded her.
“I know.”
Josie had only seen him twice after the day the trailer burned down. The last time had been three months before his death. It was then she found out he had a daughter. Josie would never forget the way he’d lit up when he told her about Wren. What he hadn’t told her was that he had pancreatic cancer and not long to live.
It had been a shock to find Wren on their doorstep hours after his death, declaring that he’d left custody of her to Josie and Noah and, as difficult as things had been so far, Josie considered it a gift and a privilege to be tasked with guardianship of the daughter of one of the best men she’d ever known.
“I’m glad it was us,” Noah remarked. “This isn’t what I expected but it’s…it feels…meaningful. Like being here for Wren is one of the most important things we’ll ever do.”
Josie smiled into his shirt. “Yes.”
She felt him returning his attention to making their meal. He made no move to shrug out of her embrace, continuing as if he cooked this way all the time, with her wrapped around him. “I had a concerning conversation with Wren on the way back from her therapy appointment,” she said.
He stilled. “Concerning how?”
Josie related the encounter in the car. By the time she concluded, the tension in Noah’s muscles had dissipated. “You’re overthinking it,” he told her. “Before you say anything, I’m not dismissing your concerns. I just…”
“She said she ‘can’t’ talk about it,” Josie reminded him.
Noah patted her hands where they joined just below his navel. “Just consider that you’re viewing this through the lens of someone who sees evil and violence on a daily basis, and…”
When he didn’t continue, Josie said softly, “It’s okay. Say it.”
“Josie, your childhood wasn’t exactly normal.”
She ran her nose up the column of his spine, inhaling the scent of fabric softener and him. It was on the tip of her tongue to argue that Wren’s childhood hadn’t been normal either except that he was right. Wren had had two stable, loving parents. Not at the same time but theyhadbeen there. By all accounts, her upbringing with her mother and then Dex had been happy and filled with healthy attachments.
Noah’s hands busied again. He didn’t wait for her to argue or agree. “‘Can’t’ can mean because something embarrassing happened, or talking about it is too painful because her old school is one of the last places she felt normal before Dex died. It doesn’t have to be anything terrible.”
Josie let that sink in. “Okay. I won’t worry about it. Much.”
“Look at us, talking about our feelings,” he said, a playful note in his voice.
“Who even are we?” she replied.
In the months after Noah’s abduction, he’d used sex as a way to avoid processing his trauma. While Josie wasn’t complaining about the physical aspect, she knew he was never going to get better if he didn’t deal with what had happened to him emotionally. Things were still passionate between them but they were, in fact, talking a lot more lately.
An easy silence fell between them. Josie stayed pressed to her husband, feeling his body move in her arms as he cooked, taking in the sounds and scents.
It was such a lovely, quiet domestic moment. The kind she’d come to crave, especially when their jobs were often a front row seat to human depravity so profound, it felt like a living nightmare. Images of Haven Barnes’s battered body flashed across her mind, interspersed with memories of the happy photos the girl had shared on social media only hours before her death. She’d fought so hard and been brutalized for it. As a rule, Josie spent as little time as possible thinking about Turner, but she couldn’t get the look on his face out of her mind. The way his jaw clenched at the same time that his eyes went soft with fear right before he’d walked out of the tent.
“It was so bad, Noah,” she whispered, turning her head to rest her cheek between his shoulder blades again. “What happened to that girl.”
