“Moved on?” he hissed. He wanted to grab her and shake all the stupid delusions from her head. “You really think that’s what you’ve done? I’ve been gone two years, and you’re exactly where you were when I left. Working at the bar every night of the week. Planting the same flowers you did every year. You didn’t even bother to take my clothes out of your closet. You didn’t move on; you simply pretended to.” He met her icy stare with his own and welcomed all the fury he’d felt since those divorce papers showed up on his doorstep. “And don’t you dare act like I’m the only one who did the hurting. You gave up. You signed your name to a document that ripped apart my soul.”
“You left me!”
“And you kissed another man!”
The room fell silent, their chests heaving. Chad hadn’t noticed how close they’d gotten until now. He swallowed, feeling that familiar sour taste in the back of his throat. “Every time I think of him touching you, I want to kill him.”
She must have seen the storms in his eyes, because she inched back. “I will not feel guilty for my relationship with Ben. You and I are divorced.”
“Like that matters. You still love me. And if for one second I thought you didn’t, I could accept your choice. I could accept that you’d finally realized what I’ve always known about myself. But you were never with that guy because you cared about him. You did all of this to blot me out, to wipe away my touch, to try and erase me from your memory.” He pressed in, his voice low and deliberate. “Sweetheart, if that’s not betrayal, I don’t know what is.”
A sharp sting burst across his cheek, the handprint so scorching, he could practically feel the outline of her fingers.
Tears swam in her eyes while she gasped, “I hate you!”
“Yeah. Well, then I guess I have nothing to lose.”
Before she could possibly resist, he had her back against the wall, his hands on either side of her face and his mouth over hers.
The kiss annihilated her. Forbidden, yet at the same time, she’d finally come home.
His lips were hot and demanding, as if daring her to stop the force they’d become. He released her only to whisper, “Can’t you feel how right this is?” before trapping her again, one hand in her hair, the other splayed on her back. His touch was soft now, his mouth no longer a weapon but a promise of love that she shouldn’t accept. Only . . . she couldn’t say no.
He sighed against her lips, welcoming her weakness, pulling her tighter into his embrace. His mouth left hers, trailed kisses down her jaw, to her ear, to her neck.
She trembled with the need to touch him everywhere at once, to feel him touching her everywhere too. She slid a hand under his shirt, the sensations of his skin on her fingertips forbidden and intoxicating. She craved to bask in it, to drown in the luxury of feeling so incredibly alive after so many years of longing.
His lips found hers again, and two years of suppressed passion exploded between them. Her body ached, her heart pounded, and she pulled him closer, inviting him all the way into her soul.
He touched her face with his fingertips, so lightly it left a tingling sensation behind. Forehead pressed to hers, his body relaxed as if it had been locked tight for centuries. “I love you so much.”
She gripped his shirt, pressed in, and demanded the earlier frenzy, the one with excitement and danger. She wanted the heat back, not this twisting soul-aching profession.
But he didn’t respond, his lips going slack as he gripped her shoulders and pushed. She glanced at his face, confused. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes half-lidded with desire, yet he’d taken another step back.
Her hands felt empty without him, and she wanted to reach for him again, to hold him and remember that wonderful feeling of passion and carelessness. “What’s wrong?”
“I said ‘I love you.’” When she didn’t respond with the same words, his body locked up, his jaw tightened. “I don’t want just a moment, Laila.”
She was still slightly stunned by his kiss, her head still spinning with how much she wanted to forget all her convictions and jump into his arms. But physically, they’d always connected. It was the tether that had held them steady for seven hard-fought years of marriage. But it was also a smokescreen that had covered all the real reasons why they eventually fell apart.
Unable to give him validation, she fingered the end of her braid. “That’s all this is. I don’t want things to go back to what they were between us.”
He laced his fingers over his head and closed his eyes as if in pain. And it was likely he was, if his body felt anything like hers did in that moment.
She began to take a step forward but stopped herself.
A breath later, he lowered his hands. “Then I guess we have nothing left to talk about.”
And for the first time since Chad had come home, he was the one to walk away.
CHAPTER 25
Ben asked her not to come to Kids’ Bible Club the next day.
His text was brief, but not angry. He simply said it was too short of notice to find a teaching replacement for himself, and felt concerned that Caden would pick up on the tension between the two of them. She agreed, of course, and in turn texted Kim so Sierra would understand her absence.
Kim immediately countered with an invitation to the park, and despite the lingering sting of disappointment and rejection, Laila felt grateful she could do at least one unselfish thing.
So now she waited, the metal bench warm against the backs of her legs, and tried not to think of everything that happened the night before.
She missed Ben already. Missed his laughter and the way he made all her troubles seem to disappear. But her heart wasn’t broken. She didn’t sit and cry over the loss of him. And even more despicable than that? On the very night Ben broke up with her, she’d lain awake in bed while thoughts of her ex-husband crept in and out of her mind. Chad’s wounded stare. His tender touch. The heart-wrenching way he’d left the bar without so much as a good-bye.
Ben had done the right thing by walking away from her. He’d saved them both a lot of pain.
Laila squared her shoulders, refusing to let her guilt dampen the time she’d been given with Sierra. Kim’s trust in her sparked something inside. Something Laila hadn’t felt since her miscarriage. She wanted to be a mother. She wanted a healthy family one day. The dream was no longer attainable for her, at least not any time soon, but she could still help give that to Sierra.
Laila checked the time and Kim’s text, just to make sure she was at the right park, and then slid her phone back into her purse.
A car door closed in the distance, then another. Laila glanced across the parking lot and brushed away her sadness. Kim and Sierra walked toward her, each carrying baskets filled with paper and crayons. She met them halfway and offered to take the girl’s smaller one. Sierra shyly handed it over.
“Sorry we’re a little late. Sierra kept running back into the house for one more thing.” Kim beamed with each word like they’d already seen a great victory.
Laila smiled at the little girl, who’d worn her hair down today, although the kinks and bends across the brown strands indicated that she’d just taken it down.
“Sierra wanted you to braid it,” Kim offered. She must have noticed Laila staring. “She took them out herself and grabbed a bag of hair ties. You don’t mind, do you?”
The little girl watched her with those careful brown eyes.
“No. Not at all.” Laila offered Sierra her hand. “In fact, I’ve been watching some videos online and have some cool new tricks.”
They walked side by side to a corner picnic table, arms swinging while Laila described the different shapes and tucks she’d learned. As she explained the third style, Sierra’s eyes lit up and she nodded vigorously.
“Okay, then. The Dutch braid it is.”
When they reached their destination, Laila set down the pink basket and took a step onto the bench.
A tug on her shirt stopped her ascent. She paused and glanced
at Sierra over her shoulder. The kid began shaking her head.
“I’ll need you to sit in front of me if you want me to braid your hair,” she explained. “If we sit on top of the table, we’ll have a lot more room.”
Sierra still refused, her big eyes starting to fill.
“Hey, it’s no problem.” Laila quickly hopped back down, having no idea why Sierra was so against the picnic table. Her gaze swept the area. Most of the playground was either concrete or sand. There were two patches of trees about a hundred yards away by the corner of a soccer field. She pointed to the area. “Will that work? We can sit on the grass maybe?”
Sierra wiped her eyes and took off running for the trees.
Feeling completely unqualified, Laila turned to Kim. “What did I do wrong?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all. She has issues with climbing. Wants both feet firmly planted on the ground. We don’t know why, and of course she won’t tell us.” Kim shrugged. “You pick your battles, and right now it feels like we’re winning one, so I say let’s just go with it.”
Laila retrieved Sierra’s abandoned basket, and she and Kim slowly walked toward the little girl. “I’m really not qualified to help her. You understand that, right? I haven’t been around many children.”
Kim only smiled. “Since Christmas, Sierra has seen a team of counselors with multiple degrees, and the greatest achievement we made was her sitting at the dinner table with us. After a few weeks with you in Kids’ Bible Club, she’s interacting, drawing pictures, and even gave me hug. All on her own.” Kim fluttered her eyelashes, obviously trying to stop the tears. “Whatever it is you don’t know . . . well, I say it’s working for us.”
Laila only sighed. She knew what was working. Her resemblance to Sierra’s mother. “Have you considered taking Sierra to visit her mother?” Brianna was in a low-security prison only an hour away.
Color drained from Kim’s normally cheery features. “No, and I won’t. Not until she at least attempts to apologize for what she did to that little girl. Brianna knows where we are, and I’ve been told she can write and call. But it’s been silence.”
“I understand.” More than Kim would ever know.
Kim halted their walk. “Listen, I know none of this makes sense, but I’ve prayed for a miracle every day since that little girl came to our house, and then . . . there you were. I’m not one to question whom God uses, and you shouldn’t either.”
Laila bit her lip, insecurity raging within her. She was a divorcée, the daughter of an addict, a fatherless bartender. “I just feel very inadequate sometimes.”
“Well, honey, if you weren’t, then God wouldn’t get the glory, now would He?”
“No, I guess not.” They continued walking again. “So what should we do today? After the braids, of course.” They were close to where Sierra sat, patiently waiting for them to join her.
“Well, Sierra drew you a picture.” The smile returned to Kim’s face along with a gleam in her eye. “I’m sure she’d love to give it to you.”
They stopped next to her.
“Sierra? Do you want to give Ms. Laila your picture now?” Kim offered the basket in her hand, and Sierra jumped to her feet. With careful fingers, she took the largest container, set it on the ground, and sorted through the stack until she pulled a thin, colorful page from its hiding place.
Suddenly bashful, Sierra handed it to Laila but wouldn’t look at her.
Laila set down the other basket and held Sierra’s gift with both hands. In the corner was a messy handwritten note. For Laila.
The picture was of the two of them in Kids’ Bible Club. Sierra drew Laila with a big red smile but didn’t put any mouth on her own figure. Just brown circles for her eyes and a nose. Laila tucked it to her heart. “It’s beautiful, Sierra. Thank you.”
The hour passed quickly between multiple attempts at the perfect braid and reading out loud from a book that Kim had brought. It was one the counselors recommended about a little girl who was adopted by a foreign family. Now they were lying on their stomachs, each drawing a picture in a sketchbook.
Kim sat on a bench several yards from them, having chosen to sneak away once Sierra appeared comfortable. Laila absently drew the playground with colored pencils and snuck a peek at Sierra’s newest masterpiece. The little girl was talented. Her proportions were near perfect, and she even added shadowing to different areas.
She’d drawn another picture of the two of them. Only this time, Laila’s face was gloomy and sad. She had a deep black frown and droopy eyes.
Laila reached out and lightly touched the braid she’d woven on Sierra’s head. The girl remained vigilant in her work, barely reacting to the touch.
“Why did you draw me being sad?” she asked, even though she wouldn’t get an answer.
Sierra shrugged and continued coloring.
“You know I’m not sad because of you, right? In fact, this last hour is the happiest I’ve been all day.”
The little girl’s fingers paused, and she cocked her head until she made eye contact with Laila. Though young, Sierra was immensely perceptive and didn’t like being treated like a little kid. This was an opportunity to earn her trust, and Laila didn’t want to waste it.
“I had someone very special in my life who left a long time ago. He made me sad a lot. And today, I was thinking of him again.” She leaned up on her elbow, turning onto her side. “But when you came to the park, all my sadness went away.” Laila gave her the widest, most genuine smile she had, and to her relief, Sierra grabbed her special colored-pencil eraser and scrubbed at the frown in the picture. A few seconds later, a bright-red smile replaced it.
“What about you, Sierra? Is there someone who makes you so sad?” Laila swallowed the lump in her throat and once again hoped she wasn’t messing everything up.
Sierra hesitated, then scrambled to her knees and shuffled through one of the old sketchbooks in the basket. Finding the picture she wanted, Sierra shoved the book into Laila’s hands.
The woman was drawn across a couch, her face covered in tears. There were messy scribbles all around, carefully drawn to mimic a horrendous living condition. In the corner was one simple word: MOM.
Laila felt her heart crumble inside her chest. “My mom was like that too,” she whispered.
She didn’t know if she was breaking a hundred rules, but she couldn’t let that little girl sit there without being comforted. Laila spread her arms, an invitation she prayed would be accepted.
It was.
Sierra crawled onto her lap, small and broken, and let Laila hold her while she cried.
By the time Sierra was tucked safely into the back of Kim’s car, Laila felt emotionally and physically exhausted.
“I’m going to set up an appointment with her counselor tomorrow. I think we may be on the cusp of a major breakthrough.” As usual, Kim looked for the silver lining in every situation, but all Laila could see was the small, wounded girl lying in the backseat with her teddy bear clutched to her chest.
A feeling rose within her, an anger she’d never allowed herself to feel despite all the horror she’d experienced as a child. “I want to go see her mother,” she blurted out, not even sure where the idea came from.
Kim’s perpetual smile faded. “Why?”
Laila pulled her gaze from the car window and focused on Sierra’s grandmother. “Because I need to say things—” She stopped herself, just as confused as Kim seemed to be. Everything was spiraling out of control. Her life, Chad, Ben. The stupid cottage that still wasn’t finished. And now all she could feel was this insane, pressing need to scream at a woman she didn’t even know.
“Laila, are you okay?” Kim’s soft touch felt more electric than soothing. “You’ve gone extremely pale.”
She tried counting, tried all the exercises she’d learned to keep her words hidden, to control the emotion when it got too great, but they all failed her. “I’m fine,” she whispered, though she was anything but fine or calm or even ration
al.
Kim eyed her with concern and then dug around in her purse. “They do visitation on the weekends,” she said, handing Laila a square information card. “I’ve never been, but they told us it would be good to call ahead and let them know you’re coming.”
“You’re okay with me going?” The permission was all she needed to finally get her mind back in order.
The older woman squeezed her hand, crumpling the paper inside it. “If this is what you need, then you have my blessing. At first, I thought Sierra was drawn to you because you reminded her of her mom.” She shook her head, tears forming in her eyes. “But I think it was more that you reminded Sierra of herself. Maybe somehow she sensed you would understand her. It’s a pity our society underestimates children so much, isn’t it?” Slowly, Kim let go of her hand and wrapped her in a comforting hug. “Go, Laila. Do what you need to finally release the pain.”
CHAPTER 26
The sign for The Point stood like a battered white wall against the graying skyline. Clouds had rolled in overnight, and heavy storms were expected for most of the weekend. The weather seemed fitting for the day Chad had chosen to visit his father.
He pressed a hand to the sign’s splintered wood, still remembering the day the city erected the brick-and-wood neighborhood badge. The city manager had put twenty of them up, marking all the subdivisions in his small town. The Point had been the last one to receive such a distinction. Possibly because, at the time, the new sign had been the nicest structure on the dilapidated street.
Fighting against the tug of memories, Chad slipped back into his running vehicle and slammed the door. He’d been in a wretched mood for days now, and coming here hadn’t done a thing to ease his growing agitation.
He needed to get this confrontation over with. His father had somehow gotten ahold of his phone number and had been pestering him ever since. In his last text, he’d demanded that Chad come to see him, threatening to show up at the bar and visit with Laila if he didn’t. Joe had banned his father from the bar eight years ago, after his unpredictable temper led to six thousand dollars in damages and a weekend in jail. His father knew mentioning Laila’s name was all it would take to get Chad here.
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