Chapter 50
Taking Flight
Maliyah
"They're fine, baby—just sit still." I caught her eyes in the rearview mirror. "Remember what we practiced?"
"I'm a monarch butterfly and I fly to Mexico for winter!" She bounced, her feet kicking out and accidentally popping the wings again. "Oh, no!"
Lucas, nose buried in a book, rolled his eyes and rescued the wings, tucking them safely beside him. "It's called migration, Zoe. And you're supposed to explain about the four generations."
"I know that!" She stuck her tongue out at him. "Miss Rachel said I just need to remember the important parts."
"All the parts are important. It’s science, Zoe!"
"Kids." I pulled into the library parking lot, already half-full at 9:45. "Let's just focus on getting inside without destroying Zoe's costume, okay?"
My phone buzzed in the cup holder.
Reed: Got us seats in the first row. Getting mean-mugged by a mom and a kid dressed like something that looks like a caterpillar...maybe??
I found myself smiling before I could stop it, my thumb already moving to text back: Just parked. Get ready for the butterfly diva.
In the last few weeks, Reed had shown up with Lucas's favorite mint chocolate chip ice cream after his math test, picked up picture books to help Zoe learn about her butterfly role, and most recently had to learn all about SpongeBob after Lucas had slept at a friend’s house where he’d seen it for the first time and thought it was 'the coolest'.
Each time he appeared at our door, I'd catch myself holding my breath a little less, my shoulders dropping a fraction lower than the time before.
"Is Reed here?" Zoe asked, apparently having developed supernatural psychic phone-reading abilities.
"Yes."
Zoe's face lit up. "Yes!" Her hands shot to the glittery pipe cleaners wobbling above her head, fingers pinching and adjusting them with the concentration of a surgeon. "Can you see if they're even? I need them to look perfect for the pictures Reed promised to take, before I go on stage."
I smirked at my little diva as I parked and killed the engine. "Everything looks perfect. Let's go."
I wedged my hands under Zoe's armpits and tugged. Her puffer coat squeaked against the car seat, refusing to budge. "Arms up," I whispered, my breath clouding in the freezing cold air. She raised them like a touchdown referee while I pulled again, my lower back protesting.
Lucas stood beside me, Zoe’s wings clutched carefully in one hand, duffel dangling from the other, his eyes rolling skyward as Zoe finally popped free with a vinyl squeal.
Other families were streaming toward the entrance, kids in various states of costume—flowers, bees, even one ambitious oak tree.
"There's Macy!" Zoe took off running, wings flapping behind her.
"Zoe! Don’t run! Be careful!" But she was already gone, joining her cousin at the library entrance where Felicity stood with Caden and their crew.
Lucas fell into step beside me. "Mom, are you feeling okay?"
I glanced down at him. "Of course, baby. Why?"
"You keep touching your face." He studied me with those too-observant eyes—when did my little boy grow up? "Where the scars are."
My hand dropped immediately. I hadn't realized I'd been doing it—running my fingers along the thin lines that remained. I’d been doing it less and less these days.
Reed always made a point to lightly touch them whenever he said goodbye, right before he would whisper in my ear, 'Goodbye, warrior goddess. '
"Just a habit," I said. "They don't hurt anymore."
"Good." He took my hand, squeezing tight. "You look pretty today."
"Thanks, buddy." My voice came out rough.
We caught up to the chaos at the entrance. Felicity grabbed my arm the moment we got close.
"You look good," she said, her nurse's eye doing a quick assessment. "Like a badass, as a matter of fact. Ready to get back to work in a couple days?"
"Monday," I said, puffing out a breath, knowing she'd understand.
Her eyes narrowed slightly, head tilting when she asked, "Nervous?"
"It's time. I've been cleared, and Delilah needs to get back to her actual job instead of covering for me."
"But are you—"
"I'm ready." I straightened my shoulders, feeling the truth of it. My ribs didn't ache anymore. My jaw worked perfectly. The nightmares had faded to occasional whispers. "I need to be useful again. I need my normal."
Felicity pulled me into a quick hug. "Good. The shelter needs you. There are a lot of women there who need your backbone and your understanding."
"Speaking of normal," she added with a sly smile, "Reed's inside looking particularly un-normal. Man's practically vibrating with nerves."
"He's just excited for Zoe."
"Right. Just Zoe." Her knowing look made me blush.
"Can we please just go watch my daughter be a butterfly?"
Felicity's laughter followed us into the library's children's section, which had been transformed into a small theater.
Rows of chairs faced a makeshift stage area decorated with paper flowers and twinkle lights.
Parents clutched phones and cameras, younger siblings squirmed, and the noise level suggested barely controlled chaos.
I spotted Reed immediately—first row center, just like he'd said. But Felicity was right. His knee bounced rapidly, fingers drumming against his thigh, shoulders tight with tension.
Lucas saw him too and marched over, but instead of his usual defensive positioning, he crossed in front of Reed and slid into the seat next to him on the opposite side, placing Reed between himself and me. My breath caught as I watched my son's shoulders relax against Reed’s side.
"You okay?" I heard Lucas ask Reed.
Reed startled, then gave Lucas his full attention. "Yeah, buddy. Just—big day."
"It's only a library show," Lucas said. "Zoe's been practicing."
"I know." Reed's eyes found mine as I approached. "Still feels important."
Recovering from my shock, I slid into the other seat beside Reed. I felt his warmth along my side, a line of heat where the narrow chairs forced us together. "You came."
"Wouldn’t miss it for the world." His voice dropped lower. "How are you? Really?"
Instead of deflecting like I'd done for weeks, I let him see the truth. "You know—I have my good days and bad days. Today's good. Great, actually."
"Yeah?"
I touched my face again, caught myself, dropped my hand to my lap. Reed's hand twitched like he wanted to reach for mine.
"Your battle wounds aching?" he asked quietly.
"No. Just unconsciously touching them," I said, trying for light.
"Whatever. They’re proof you're a badass. Touch them if you want to. They’re yours," he said. Then, even quieter, "I think they make a warrior goddess like you that much more beautiful."
Heat flooded my face. Lucas looked between us with interest rather than suspicion.
"Are you two gonna be weird the whole time?" he asked. "'Cause Zoe's show is starting soon."
Reed laughed—a real, surprised sound that made something loosen in my chest. "We'll try to contain our weirdness."
"Good." Lucas settled back, leaning back into Reed, apparently satisfied.
Felicity's family filed in, Macy clutching a book she’d found to take home with her. As she chattered about the show order, I felt a gentle pressure from Reed’s shoulder as he leaned a little into me.
"So," his words close enough that his breath stirred my hair, "Monday?"
I nodded. "Yeah. Time to get back to work. I need the full time distraction."
"How do you feel about it?"
"Terrified," I admitted. "Excited. Ready. It's been too long since I felt useful."
"You've been healing. That's not the same as useless."
"I know. But I miss it—the work, the purpose. Making a difference." I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. "You get that."
"I do." Lucas pulled away from Reed, excitedly talking with Macy about something.
Reed took this opportunity to shift closer to me, casually draping his arm across the back of my chair our connection points multiplying.
"You know the DV program I’ve been telling you about?
" I nodded. "Well, looks like we get to start coordinating and training volunteers next week. "
"Reed! That’s amazing news!" My smile stretched wide enough to make my cheeks ache. I laid my hand on his knee without thinking, squeezing gently.
I watched a flush rise up his cheeks. "Yeah. Gloria and her team are doing the hard work of training and teaching. I'm just logistics." But pride colored his voice. "Twenty-two volunteers so far. Three shelters participating."
"That's amazing." I turned to face him more fully. "Really. That's going to help so many women."
"That's the idea." He held my gaze. "Maybe when you're settled back at work, you could come observe? Give feedback?"
A small flutter of excitement bubbled up in my chest. "I'd like that. I’m sure I could break away and go observe where you guys are training."
"Might be easier than you think. Harbor House signed up too." My eyes popped just as the library’s lights dimmed, saving us from talking more about it. Miss Rachel took the stage, and soon we were immersed in the controlled chaos of children's theater.
When Zoe strutted out in full butterfly glory, Reed shifted away and sat forward, engrossed. He filmed her entire performance, cheering when she nailed the migration explanation and laughing when she improvised a dance.
The whole room erupted when Zoe explained that monarch butterflies "have to pack their tiny suitcases" for Mexico each winter.
Reed also captured the moment when she compared the migration to her own family's move from Florida, complete with a dramatic reenactment of herself slumped over, "Are we there yet? "
"Did you see the part where I flew?" Zoe asked after the show concluded, one wing askew but spirits high.
"Best monarch butterfly in the house. You’re the greatest story teller I’ve ever seen," Reed assured her, helping reattach the rogue wing.
She threw her arms around him without hesitation, and I watched something soft and surprised cross his face—like he still couldn't believe his luck.
"Hot chocolates?" Felicity announced. "Celebration requires sugar."
As we filed out in our usual pack, I found myself walking closer to Reed than necessary. When Zoe grabbed his hand and mine, swinging between us, I didn't tense up or make excuses.
"This is the best day," she announced. "I was a butterfly, and now hot chocolate, and everyone I love is here!"
Lucas took my free hand. "Mom's going back to work Monday," he informed Reed. "She's the boss again."
"She never stopped being the boss," Reed said, catching my eye over the kids' heads.
We all headed to the Grind coffee shop—a little spot in Southie that Caden's cousin Andi runs. When we walked in, Andi had already pushed a couple tables together for us, prepared for our arrival.
She and another barista appeared seconds later with a tray of hot chocolates and slices of cake, shooting Felicity a knowing grin.
"Heard there was a star actress in the building," she said, setting a whipped-cream-topped cup in front of Zoe with extra flourish.
"This one's got extra marshmallows for the best performance award. "
Zoe beamed, and Andi winked at me before disappearing back behind the counter. I sat beside Reed instead of maintaining careful distance.
Felicity leaned over and swiped her fork through the corner of Caden's cake.
"So, Monday. You feeling ready?" she asked me while Caden's mouth fell open in mock outrage.
"Woman, that's theft!" he protested, pulling his plate closer.
Felicity just shrugged and licked caramel from her fork, already eyeing his dessert for her next targeted attack.
"Mine's chocolate. Yours has all that gooey caramel.
A woman needs variety to survive, Caden. "
Laughing at my brother-in-law’s offended expression, I answered, "As ready as I'll ever be." I straightened in my seat, "I've hidden long enough. The women at the shelter need stability, and I need—" I gestured vaguely. "I just need to be me again."
"You never stopped being you," Reed said quietly. "But you needed a little time to heal first."
"Speaking of the shelter," I said, "Reed just told me his DV self-defense program is coming to Harbor House too."
Felicity's eyes sparkled. "Oh, you mean the new self-defense program that mysteriously got full funding and approval?"
"Yes—that one!" I turned to Reed, who suddenly found his mug fascinating, as a blush rose up the sides of his neck. "Though, why he didn’t brag to me before that it would be at Harbor House too, I don’t know."
"It's for multiple shelters. Harbor House is just one of them."
"Reed—"
"It's not about us," he said quickly. "Or not just about us.
It's about—" He gestured helplessly. "It's about women like you.
Strong women who've survived shit they shouldn't have had to.
They deserve to feel powerful. To know they have options.
And I wanted it to be a surprise for you when you came back.
" His voice dropped lower, eyes meeting mine with that earnest intensity that made my chest tighten.
"I didn't want you thinking this was just some calculated move to win you over. It's bigger than that."
"See?" Zoe announced to the table. "I told you Reed was smart."
Everyone laughed, breaking the intensity of the moment. But under the table, I let my hand find his, our fingers tangling briefly—a squeeze of gratitude, of recognition, of something more I wasn't quite ready to name.
"Dance party when we get home?" Zoe asked around a mouthful of cake.
"After all this sugar?" I groaned.
"Reed has to come," Lucas declared, surprising everyone. "He doesn't know about dance parties."
"I don't think—" Reed started.
"You have to," Lucas insisted. "It's how we shake off the heavy days, and crazy ones, and fun ones, and cool ones—I guess all the ones! And Mom going back to work is kind of heavy and happy at the same time, so we need an extra big dance party."
I looked at Reed, no longer trying to hide my smile. "You heard the man. Dance party attendance is mandatory."
"Then I guess I better learn some moves."
"I’ll teach you," Zoe promised excitedly. "I've been working on a butterfly dance! We could do it together!"
As we finished off our desserts, I caught Felicity watching me with that big sister look—proud and protective all at once. She mouthed "good" when Reed wasn't looking.
She was right. This was good. I was ready—for work, for normal, for whatever came next.
For the first time since Bryce, I felt like myself again.
He'd left scars, yes—but I was stronger now in every place he'd tried to break me.
That was my doing, not his. My family was my foundation, my home, my everything.
But maybe, just maybe, Reed had done enough to show he deserved to be part of that foundation.