I swipe at my face, trying to breathe through the eruption in my chest. “Even if he could see past it, I don’t know if I can give him all of the things he’ll want someday.”
“Maybe you just need to take the first step and let him in.”
I huff out a laugh, wiping my nose on my wrist. “That sounds like a shit load of pure torture.”
One side of her mouth turns up. “Well, it might be, but what if it’s worth it. All of these things you’re feeling for the first time are good things. You have to give yourself permission to behappy. Not all the time, but you could start letting yourself be happy sometimes. For now. Until you get used to it.”
She smiles at me. “It’s time to stop punishing yourself. You not only survived, you’re a gift to the world. To every child you bring through these doors. You’re proof to each of them that you can win. Keep proving that, not only for them, but for yourself.”
“This is all I know how to do.”
“I think you can do both. Love someone, let them love you back, and try to save the world.” Her smile grows wider. “I think you may have already been doing that. Maybe for a little while now.”
I dry my face, and we sit in silence for a few minutes before she stands and hugs me tightly, transferring strength and courage.
“You’re not all by yourself. Ok?”
I nod, and she sends me on my way to shovel through the large piles of professional intellect she dumped at my feet. I’m exhausted, so they’ll have to sit there until I find the energy to wade in and see if she might be right.
Let myself be happy. Sometimes.
I drag myself through the house on the way to the kitchen, but stop when movement in the backyard catches my eye.
I watch through the window as Cole lobs a ball with his left arm to Matt, which tells me his wrist is still healing. Matt backpedals to catch it, wearing a Stingrays jersey two sizes too big.
“Matt’s been asking about him, so I had Tracker call to see if he could stop by.” Hope slides up beside me. “They have a connection.” She smiles. “He doesn’t say much, but Cole seems able to get a few words out of him.”
He was my safe place, too.
It hurts to think it, so I shove the thought away. “Any word on a placement?”
Hope weighs her head from side to side. “Homes for boys this age and above are a challenge to find. I won’t let him be tossed just anywhere. It’ll take time, and in the meantime, he’s making progress.”
A long moment passes while we watch the two of them—Cole giving instructions and Matt attempting to follow.
“How about you? Are you ok?” she asks quietly.
Not even a little bit.
I blow out a breath. “Not sure.”
Her arm slides around me, and she pulls me to her side. I’ve never hated Hope’s hugs, and I really don’t mind today. I need its magical healing touch, but also for her to tell me what in the hell I’m supposed to do now.
“You know, when Tracker and I opened this place, our mission wasn’t just to offer freedom butnewlife as well.”
She pauses. “That quote is painted on the wall for a reason. That letter “A” stood for something on Hester’s chest, but its original purpose backfired. There was a reason she embroidered it. She transformed it from something ugly and demeaning to a beautiful work of art. Eventually, she seemed to wear it with pride.”
She had not known the weight until she felt the freedom.
“We wear invisible brands that may burn for eternity, but with time, I think we can also choose how we wear them and what they represent.”
I close my eyes, so damn tired of running and fighting. “I’m so confused.”
She squeezes me tighter, resting her head on my shoulder.
“Track and I want nothing more for you girls than to wear them proudly, no matter how or who put them there, where they’ve taken you, or who wants to tell you that you shouldn’t.”
She turns toward me, her eyes welling with tears. “When you’re ready, we want you to embroider or bedazzle or tattoo theshit out of those scars. Baby, you let those things shine loud and proud because they aren’t going anywhere.”
