“Oh, ah. I was just coming to look for you,” a startled Lakelyn greeted me upon arrival.
“Sorry, I hope I didn’t wake you.” I looked around her and couldn’t help but smile, seeing she’d made my bed.
It was cute.
“No.”
“Can I make you a coffee or breakfast, or do you need to get home?” I offered.
“I’ve got nowhere to be.”
Before opening the fridge, I pulled out two mugs and coffee pods for the Keurig. “I’ve got eggs and there’s toast in the freezer. Does that work?”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to put you out.”
“Lakelyn, it’s not a bother at all, I promise.”
“How can I help?”
I handed her the bread package. “Want to pop a few pieces in the microwave to defrost, and then the toaster is in the cabinet beside it.”
“How do you like your eggs?” I asked.
“Scrambled or over easy, whichever is easiest, honestly. Is there any butter in the fridge?”
“Yes. I’ll grab it for you.”
The kitchen area wasn’t overly spacious, yet as we moved with fluidity around the kitchen quarters, I was conscious of how comfortable I was with her in my space.
* * *
“I should have asked this earlier; how are you feeling this morning?”
“Surprisingly, okay, given the tequila,” she quipped.
“Happy to hear it.” And even though I was, that wasn’t all I was looking for. “One never knows with tequila, but ah . . . we touched on some heavy topics last night. How is that sitting now that it’s a new day?”
She had been busy lifting a forkful of eggs as my question punctured the air, causing her to stop mid-motion. I watched her face scrunch as she lowered the fork to the plate and closed her eyes. I immediately wanted to kick myself for making her uncomfortable.
“Lakelyn, I—”
She held her hand out, halting my apology mid-sentence.
It wasn’t until she turned and looked in my direction that I blew out the nervous breath I’d been holding. While I was half expecting her eyes to carry the weight I felt shuddering through her body as I held her in my arms last night, that wasn’t what greeted me. No, her crystal-blue eyes were the epitome of serenity. There was a sense of calmness about her, like the fog had lifted, and she was at peace.
“I haven’t been entirely honest with you.”
Her declaration was a jolt to my system. I felt my body tense with confusion, wondering where she was going with this and whether I had read her wrong. I valued honesty above all else, and when it came to letting someone into my life, it was imperative and something I wasn’t willing to compromise on.
Ever.
“I told you last night, this past year wasn’t . . . it’s been a lot.” She swallowed. “But there was one bright spot amongst all the chaos: I got to reconnect with my sister’s former roommate from college. Jenna, the architect I mentioned last night. Getting to talk to her about my sister when I had no one else, literally no one,” she emphasized with a heavy breath, “provided the comfort I desperately needed when I was struggling in silence. Having someone who knew her was just familiar. It was consoling to have her to cry and reminisce with, but it also made me realize I’d missed warning signs that my sister was in trouble.”
“Trouble? What do you mean?” I sat up straighter as a sneaking suspicion took root.
“Jenna, or Kinzleigh, was how I knew her originally. She had to change her name and create a new identity a few years after college.” She waved her hand as if that wasn’t the key takeaway. “She was in an abusive relationship and has been to hell and back in the most unimaginable of ways several times over. Thankfully, she made it out alive and is thriving now, but in talking with her, I realized abusers typically have a pattern. Isolation, jealousy, unpredictability, a rolling temper, possessiveness, control issues, etcetera, as I’m sure you’re aware, given your line of work, are just some of the telltale signs in a relationship with abuse. Most occurrences start off small, as I believe was the case with my sister. She pulled away shortly after she began dating this guy; we’d always been close. Her happy view of life washed away. She claimed it was the pressures of transitioning from college life to adulting without our mother constantly underfoot, but I had my suspicions it was this new boyfriend keeping her under lock and key. There was something that never sat right when we’d talk, and she’d share stories that didn’t add up with past ones. The final straw that strained our relationship was when they secretly got married. Not only had I never met the guy, but she refused to share a photo of them together. I was completely left in the dark.”
“I take it you didn’t live in the same city?”
