CHAPTER 31
I blink awake, and my heart immediately begins racing as I realize Sophie’s not curled up next to me. Nugget’s missing too. His usual spot at the foot of the bed is empty. He came back in here once Gavin let him outside to go potty earlier this morning after our…well after Gavin helped me relax.
No, no, no.
My chest constricts as I scramble out of bed, nearly tripping over my own feet. The door’s cracked open, I didn’t leave it open. I’m sure of it.
Yanking a pair of shorts from my duffel bag, I pull them on with trembling hands. My mind spins with horrible possibilities as I rush toward the door.
The smell hits me first. Warm vanilla, cinnamon, something cooking. Then I hear it, Sophie’s giggle, followed by Gavin’s low murmur.
I round the corner into the kitchen, and the sight before me stops me in my tracks. Sophie stands on a chair next to Gavin at the counter, both wearing matching aprons. She’s carefully dipping bread into a bowl with what looks like an egg mixture while Gavin supervises. Nugget is lounging on his doggy bed in the kitchen, his head pops up as soon as he spots me.
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOMMY!” Sophie’s voice fills the kitchen as she spots me and then her hands are on her hips.
“You’re supposed to be sleeping. Our surprise isn’t ready yet.”
The vice grip around my chest loosens. She’s safe. She’s here. I cross the kitchen in three steps and scoop her up, holding her close, breathing her in.
“Mommy, you’re squishing me!” She wiggles in my arms, but I can hear the smile in her voice.
“Sorry, baby.” I loosen my grip but don’t let go completely, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
“We’re making French toast,” she stage-whispers, as if sharing a state secret. “With cinnamon!”
“I can see that.” My voice wavers slightly as I take in the scene, the bowl of batter, fresh berries laid out in a colander, powdered sugar waiting to be sprinkled. They’ve thought of everything.
Gavin watches me, his expression shifting from cheerful to concerned. “We were planning to surprise you with breakfast in bed,” he says softly, understanding flickering in his eyes. He must have seen the panic on my face when I first walked in.
“That’s…” I swallow hard, trying to keep my voice steady. “That’s so thoughtful, but would it be okay if we all ate together in here instead?”
“Of course.” His hand brushes my lower back as he moves past me to flip the toast in the pan. The touch is grounding, reassuring.
“Can I help finish cooking?” Sophie asks, already squirming to get down.
I set her back on her chair, keeping one hand on her back. “Careful, sweetie.”
“I got it, Mommy. Gavin showed me how to do it the right way.” She dunks another piece of bread into the mixture with exaggerated care.
I watch them work together, something warm and foreign expanding in my chest.
“Coffee?” He gestures to a fresh pot I hadn’t noticed before.
“Please.” I sink into a kitchen chair, my legs still a bit shaky.
He pours me a cup, adding cream the way he’s noticed I like it. “You okay?” he asks quietly as he sets it in front of me.
I nod, wrapping my hands around the warm mug. “I just… when I woke up and she wasn’t there…”
“I should have let you know,” he says, looking genuinely apologetic. “I didn’t think…”
“No, it’s not your fault.” I take a sip of coffee, letting its warmth spread through me. “It’s just me being…”
“A mom,” he finishes. “A good one who looks out for her kid. Nothing wrong with that.”
The simple understanding in his voice makes my eyes sting. I blink rapidly, focusing on Sophie as she carefully sprinkles powdered sugar on the toast.
“Look, Mommy! I’m doing it!” Her face beams with pride.
“You sure are, baby. You’re doing amazing.”
“We got you presents too!” She bounces on her chair. “But Gavin said we have to wait until after breakfast.”
“Presents?” I look at Gavin, who just smiles mysteriously and heads back to the island.
“Can’t have a birthday without presents now, can we?” he says, sliding perfectly golden-brown French toast onto the plates.
I can’t remember the last time I had actual birthday presents. Matt would sometimes remember to grab something from a gas station on his way home, if he remembered at all. Usually, it was just another day of walking on eggshells.
“Mommy?” Sophie’s voice pulls me back to the present. “Are you sad?”
I quickly wipe my eyes. “No, baby. I’m just happy.”
She looks at me with her wide blue eyes, searching my face. After a moment, she seems satisfied with my answer and gives me another hug, her small arms wrapping around my neck with surprising strength, grounding me in this beautiful moment that feels so foreign yet so right.
Gavin sets plates loaded with French toast in front of us, each piece dusted with powdered sugar and topped with fresh berries.
“This is…” I have to stop and clear my throat. “This is incredible. Thank you both so much.”
“Happy birthday, Bailey,” Gavin says softly, his hand squeezing my shoulder.
Sophie climbs into my lap and looks up at me. “Can I give you your present now?”
“I don’t see why not.” I smile. I can’t resist seeing that sparkle of excitement in her eyes. She scrambles off just as fast, nearly knocking over my coffee in her haste.
“Be careful, baby!” I call after her as she races down the hallway, Nugget trotting behind her.
“She’s been bursting to give you her present since she woke up,” Gavin says from the chair next to me. “I had to convince her to wait until you were actually awake.”
“What time did she—”
“GOT IT!” Sophie’s voice echoes through the house. She comes running back, clutching something behind her back, her face flushed with excitement. Nugget circles around her feet, tail wagging.
“Close your eyes, Mommy!”
I obediently shut my eyes, fighting back a smile as I hear her shuffling closer. Something crinkles as she sets it in front of me.
“Okay, open!”
I open my eyes to find a large piece of construction paper covered in glitter, stickers, and what looks like an entire rainbow’s worth of crayon drawings. In the center, there’s a careful attempt at writing “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” in wobbly letters.
“See? That’s you,” She points to a tall stick figure with yellow hair. “And that’s me.” A smaller stick figure holds the bigger one’s hand. “And there’s Nugget!” A brown blob with four legs and a tail. “And that’s our new house, and Ms. Lucy, and look—” She points to another figure. “That’s Gavin!”
My throat tightens as I take in every detail. The flowers she’s drawn around the border. The love hearts scattered everywhere. The way she’s drawn all of us together, like a…
I swallow hard. “It’s beautiful, baby. I love it so much.” I pull her into my lap and hug her tight, pressing kisses all over her face until she giggles.
“I helped her with the letters,” Gavin says softly. “But everything else is all her.”
“Can we put it on the fridge?” She asks.
“Absolutely we can.” I carefully set the drawing aside, away from any potential breakfast spills. “This is the best present ever.”
“But you haven’t opened Gavin’s yet!” She bounces in my lap. “Can she open yours now?”
Gavin gets up from his chair and heads into the kitchen. He bends and reaches under the counter and pulls out a small wrapped package. “If you want to.”
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” I protest, but he hands me the package anyway.
“I wanted to.”
The wrapping paper is simple, silver with tiny stars. I carefully peel it back to reveal a leather-bound book. When I open it, I realize it’s a journal, the pages thick and creamy.
I run my fingers over the soft leather cover. “This is… thank you.”
“I noticed you like to write,” Gavin says, his voice soft. “Thought maybe you’d want somewhere private to put your thoughts.”
My fingers trace the delicate binding. The leather is butter-soft, nothing like the cheap spiral notebooks I’ve been using.
I carefully open the front cover. There’s an inscription in neat handwriting:
‘Bailey -
Sometimes the quietest words speak the loudest.
-G’
“Do you like it?” Sophie asks, peering at the journal.
“I…” The words stick in my throat as I look up at Gavin. “Thank you. Really.”
He shrugs, but I catch the pleased look in his eyes. “Everyone needs their own space to think.”
“Even in their head?” The words slip out before I can stop them.
“Especially in their head.” He reaches over and squeezes my hand.
I have to blink back tears because even though I just woke up this has been the best birthday that I’ve had in years. The thoughtfulness of his gift catches me off guard, warming something deep inside that I didn’t realize had grown cold. No one’s given me something so personal, so perfectly suited to what I need, in longer than I can remember. Between Sophie’s excitement and Gavin’s quiet understanding, I feel seen in a way that makes my chest ache with gratitude.
I pick up my fork, but pause and watch Sophie pour an enormous amount of syrup onto her French toast.
I take a bite of my own breakfast, the sweet warmth of cinnamon and vanilla flooding my mouth. For the first time in years, I feel something that might be hope stirring in my chest.
I force myself to focus on Sophie’s morning with Gavin as we eat, but my mind keeps drifting.
“And then I helped crack an egg open.” Sophie waves her fork, a piece of syrup-soaked French toast dangling precariously.
“Careful with your food, baby.” I reach over to steady her hand.
The memory hits me like a physical blow.
Sophie, barely eighteen months old, giggling as she smeared pureed carrots across the highchair tray. The orange paste dripping onto our kitchen floor that I’d just mopped. Matt’s thunderous footsteps, his face contorting with rage over something so innocent.
“What the hell, Bailey? Can’t you control her for five minutes?”
His voice had echoed through our house, making Sophie’s little face crumple in confusion before she burst into tears. I remember how my hands trembled as I cleaned up the mess, how I’d whispered soothing words to my terrified baby while avoiding Matt’s glare. A moment when I should have been stronger, should have stood up for us both.
Where is he? There’s been no new calls or texts in days. Would he really give up that easy and go back to Oklahoma?
“Mommy, you’re not listening!” Sophie’s voice cuts through my spiral.
I blink, forcing myself back to the present. “I’m sorry, sweetie. What were you saying?”
“I was telling you about a Princess and how pretty her castle is!” She holds up her hands, fingers spread wide. “It’s this big and all sparkly!”
“That does sound pretty.” I make myself take another bite, even though my appetite has disappeared.
My eyes drift down the hallway to where my phone is, still in the bedroom. Maybe I should call Deputy Martinez, just to check…
“Hey.” Gavin’s voice is soft as he reaches across the table, his hand briefly covering mine.
I meet his eyes, steady and warm, and take a deep breath.
Gavin stands, gathering our empty plates. “You two want to go get ready for the next surprise? Make sure to dress warm.”
“Warm?” I raise an eyebrow. “In this heat?”
“Trust me.” He grins, beginning to rinse the syrup plates. “We need to pick up Ms. Lucy first, then we’ll be heading out.”
“But—”
“It’s your birthday, Mommy. We have to do birthday things!” Sophie begins pulling my hand.
I shake my head, but I’m smiling. “I don’t really need—”
“We have to get ready.” She says, still pulling my hand.
“The dishes—”
“I’ve got them.” Gavin says as he begins loading the dishwasher. “You two go get changed. We’re leave in about thirty minutes!”
Sophie practically drags me down the hall, Nugget trotting behind us. Her excitement is contagious, and I feel my anxiety loosening its grip just a bit.
I stare at the ice rink stretching before me, my heart hammering against my ribs. The Galleria mall bustles with activity around us, and each unfamiliar face sends a jolt of panic through my system. The echoing laughter and conversations from shoppers bounce off the high glass ceiling, making me feel even more exposed. My eyes dart from person to person, searching for that one face I never want to see again.
He could be here. He could be watching right now. Waiting.
“You okay?” Gavin’s voice breaks through my spiraling thoughts, his warm presence at my side acting as an anchor.
I wrap my arms tighter around myself, grateful for the thick cream-colored sweater he’d insisted I bring. The soft material helps fight off both the chill and my anxiety. “There’s just… a lot of people.”
His eyes soften with understanding and are full of concern. “Focus on me, okay? I won’t let you fall.”
Sophie stands next to me, her tiny hand clutched in mine as she peers at the ice with wide eyes. “Mommy, is it slippery?”
“That it is, sugar,” Ms. Lucy says, adjusting Sophie’s pink toboggan. “But that’s what makes it fun. Just like sliding in your socks on the kitchen floor.”
I watch a teenage couple glide past, making it look effortless as they weave between other skaters. My rental skates feel clunky and foreign on my feet, the stiff leather pinching at my ankles, and I haven’t even stepped onto the ice yet.
“Ready?” Gavin holds out his hand, steady and patient.
No. Definitely not ready. But Sophie’s watching with those innocent blue eyes, and I don’t want my fear to hold her back. So, I take his hand, my fingers trembling slightly against his warm palm.
The moment my blade touches the ice, my feet shoot out from under me like they have a mind of their own. I land hard on my backside, the impact knocking the air from my lungs and sending a shock of cold through my jeans.
“Mommy!” Sophie calls out, her voice pitched with worry.
“I’m okay, Soph” I say and give her a reassuring smile.
“Watch how she gets right back up.” I hear Ms. Lucy tell her, her southern drawl warm and reassuring.
If I can figure out how, I think, rubbing my sore behind and trying to maintain some dignity. Gavin’s already there, strong hands gripping mine as he helps me back to my feet, his movements sure and confident on the slick surface.
“Everyone falls their first time,” he says, steadying me as I wobble. “Keep your knees slightly bent and lean forward a little. Trust your body.”
I hesitate before gripping his forearms, my legs shaking like a newborn giraffe trying to find its footing. The ice beneath me feels like it’s alive and determined to knock me down again. “I think I’ll just watch from the sidelines.”
“Not a chance, birthday girl.” His smile is warm, encouraging. “I’ve got you. We’ll take it slow.”
Next to us, Sophie takes her first tentative step onto the ice with her walker, her face scrunched in concentration. Ms. Lucy skates next to her, moving backward with the grace of someone who’s clearly done this before.
“That’s it, darlin’,” she coaches. “Little steps. You’re doing just great.”
I watch Sophie’s hesitation melt into determination, her wobbly movements becoming more confident with each passing second.
“Your turn,” Gavin says, pulling me from my thoughts. “Small steps, just like Sophie.”
I take a shaky breath and try to mirror my daughter’s movements. My feet feel impossibly heavy, and every slight movement threatens to send me sprawling again.
“You’re doing great,” he encourages, skating backward with infuriating ease. “Try to relax a little.”
“Easy for you to say,” I mutter, but I force myself to loosen my death grip on his arms slightly.
A child zips past us, and I instinctively jerk away, nearly losing my balance again. Gavin’s hands tighten on mine, keeping me upright.
“I’ve got you,” he repeats softly. “I’ve got you.”
The words hit deeper than they should. I focus on his steady presence, the warmth of his hands, the way his eyes never leave mine as he guides me around the rink.
“Mommy, look!” Sophie says. She’s found her rhythm now still holding onto the walker, her little legs moving in time with Ms. Lucy’s guidance. “I’m skating!”
“You sure are, baby.” My own fear momentarily forgotten in the face of her joy.
We make slow progress around the rink, and gradually, I start to find my balance. The tension in my shoulders begins to ease, and I even manage to look around without immediately searching for threats in the crowd.
“See? You’re a natural,” Gavin says as I complete a full circuit without falling.
I snort. “I wouldn’t go that far.” But I’m smiling now, the cold air bringing color to my cheeks.
I watch Sophie’s face light up as she discovers she can glide a little, and something inside me shifts.
“Thank you,” I whisper to Gavin, not taking my eyes off Sophie. “For all of this.”
His thumb traces small circles on my palm. “Happy birthday, Bailey.”
We spend the next hour on the ice, and I only fall two more times. Sophie doesn’t fall once, a fact she proudly announces to everyone within earshot. Ms. Lucy tells stories about how her late husband used to take her skating in Colorado every year before he passed, and Gavin keeps finding excuses to hold my hand even after I’ve found my balance.
By the time we leave the rink, my legs are shaking from exertion and my cheeks hurt from smiling. Sophie talks non-stop about wanting to come back as we return our skates, her earlier hesitation completely forgotten.
“Ice cream?” Gavin suggests as we make our way through the mall. “There’s a great place just around the corner.”
“Ice cream?” Sophie bounces on her toes. “Please, Mommy?”
I glance at Ms. Lucy, who waves her hand. “Don’t look at me, sugar. It’s your birthday.”
“Ice cream it is,” I agree.
As we walk, I realize I haven’t checked my phone once since we arrived. The fear is still there, a constant companion I’m learning to live with, but today it’s been pushed to the background the simple joy of watching my daughter learn to skate, of feeling safe enough to fall and knowing someone will help me back up.
One day at a time, I remind myself as Sophie slips her small hand into mine.