You don’t hate her
Chapter twenty-two
You don’t hate her
Penny
The morning feels too ordinary. That’s the first thing I notice.
The coffee tastes the same, and Gus circles underfoot while I pack Elle’s lunch. The big clock in the living room ticks loudly like it always does.
Outside, the street is soft with early light, dew clinging to the grass and the maple trees shifting gently in the breeze. Maplewood is half asleep still, and it’s quiet in that peaceful small town way that always makes me think nothing bad could possibly happen here.
Evan stands at the counter, already in his station shirt, chewing the inside of his cheek. He hasn’t said much since we woke up. Instead, he’s been moving around the kitchen like everything is normal, but he keeps checking his phone. Once on the counter, then in his pocket.
“Shift’ll be fine,” I tell him softly, because I can almost feel the tension coiling under his skin.
He nods, but it’s the kind of nod that doesn’t really mean much. He steps closer before he leaves, his arms coiling to rest on the small of my back, thumbs swiping gently.
“I’ll keep my phone on me all shift,” he says calmly, eyes holding mine. “Text me anything.”
“I will,” I promise.
My lips curve into a smile as he leans and kisses me softly. The kiss lingers for a moment, until Elle barrels into the kitchen with mismatched socks, and we spring back.
“Daddy, you forgot to sign my reading log.”
He crouches down for her like nothing in her world is wrong, like he hasn’t been watching the street since dawn. Then he signs it, cups her cheeks, and kisses her forehead. His eyes slowly map her features while he holds her face in his palms, and he smiles softly.
“I’ll see you back here after shift, bug.”
“At seven sharp,” she says solemnly.
He huffs a laugh. “Yas, ma'am.”
When he walks out the door, I follow him onto the porch. I don’t mean to, but my feet just take me there. He glances back before he gets into the truck, and our eyes meet across the yard.
He looks at me, brow furrowed like he’s mapping my face now too, then his expression softens. He winks, blows me a kiss and gets in.
The truck pulls away, and the house feels larger without him in it.
***
School drop-off is loud and bright and full of the usual chaos. Kids weave between parents, with backpacks that are far too big for their shoulders, and someone’s little brother is crying because he doesn’t want to leave.
Elle chatters beside me the entire walk from the car, explaining a complicated playground drama involving a missing glitter pen and a betrayal of epic proportions.
I nod in the right places, squeeze her hand, smile when she looks up at me for confirmation that yes, glitter pen theft is a serious offence.
Because that’s the thing. This is her world, and I will protect it for her.
She doesn’t need to know about all the painful adult situations swirling around her, just out of reach. If the biggest turmoil in her life is whether Cora is going to replace Olivia’s glitter pen over the weekend, then I’m doing my job right.
The gates are already open, and we wander through, Elle’s hand in mine.
That’s when I see movement. A woman, across the street.
She’s standing just off to the side of the entrance, not close enough to be part of the drop-off flow, but not far enough to look accidental. She’s wearing jeans and an oversized cardigan. Her brown hair is pulled back in a way that looks hurried but deliberate.
And all she’s doing is watching.
My steps slow without me meaning to. It’s not what she’s wearing, or that she looks wild or unwell. She looks fine. Put together, almost. A little thinner than she probably once was.
It’s the stillness of her that feels wrong in a place this loud.
My stomach drops because I realize I’ve never asked what Stacey looks like. It hits me sharp and stupid. I know her name and her history, I know the pain she left behind.
But I’ve never seen her face.
I lick my lips and crouch in front of Elle, smoothing her hair back. “Go on in, bug. I’ll see you this afternoon.”
“Okay, bye, Penny! Love you to Pluto!” She runs through the gates without a second thought, her backpack jiggling against her back, and I watch her until she darts through the school doors, laughing with a friend.
Then I stand up casually, and my hand slips into my pocket to pull out my phone.
Me: What does Stacey look like?
The text feels ridiculous the second I send it, but three dots appear almost immediately.
Evan: Brown hair. About your height. Scar on her chin from when she fell off a bike as a kid.
Evan: I'll send a photo.
A second later, one comes through. It’s old, you can tell by the way Elle is barely more than a baby in her arms. Stacey is younger and fuller in the face, smiling in a way that feels genuine.
I look up from the screen to the woman standing nearby, who turns her head slightly.
Brown hair. Same height. There’s a faint pale line on her chin, barely noticeable unless you’re looking for it. And she’s looking straight at me.
Stacey.
She approaches before I can decide whether to leave or call Evan first, and her smile is cautious but practiced.
“Hello,” she says lightly, as if we’ve met before and I’ve just forgotten. “It’s such a nice morning in Maplewood, isn’t it?”
Up close, I can see the faint shadows under her eyes, the way her hands flex around her cardigan like she’s trying to keep them steady.
“Oh,” I reply, keeping my tone even. “Yes, it’s a lovely town.”
“It is.” Her gaze flicks over my shoulder toward the gates. “My daughter Elle goes there.”
There’s a small beat in my chest. It’s a strange, uneasy feeling, because she’s telling me as though she didn’t just watch me walk Elle into the gates myself.
“I’m Penny,” I say. “I’m Elle’s nanny.”
Not Evan's girlfriend. I don't want any labels that give her something to measure herself against. Her eyes drop briefly to the set of keys hanging from my fingers.
Evan’s spare car key sits hooked beside the little silver penguin keychain Elle gave me, and her attention moves and sharpens on the sleeve of my hoodie for half a second. Evan’s spare FD hoodie. Her eyes snap back up to mine, and she studies me more closely now, recalculating.
“Elle,” she repeats softly. “She’s gotten so big.” I don’t fill the silence, and she tilts her head slightly. “You been with them long?”
“Long enough,” I say.
There’s another tiny pause, and her smile thins.
“Well,” she says, stepping back half a pace. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”
“Maybe,” I answer.
I don’t linger. I walk back to the car on jelly legs and only let myself breathe properly once the door shuts. Inside, I call Evan before I’ve even reversed out of the parking space, and he answers on the first ring.
“Pen.”
“It’s her,” I say.
A silence drops heavy.
“She was loitering by the school gates,” I continue, forcing my voice to stay level. “Watching us. And she approached me, said her daughter Elle goes there.”
His exhale is controlled, and I assume it’s similar to the kind he takes before stepping into something volatile.
“I’m calling the school now,” he says, voice shifting into something focused. “They’ll flag her at the office. She doesn’t get near Elle without going through me.”
“Okay.”
“Can you pick Elle up a bit early today? Be there before they get let out.”
“Of course.”
“I’ll see if Beck can let me off after lunch.”
There’s movement on his end—a door closing, boots on concrete. He’s already moving.
“I’m sorry,” I add.
“For what?” His tone sharpens. “You did everything exactly right.”
Another beat passes, and I worry my lip.
“You okay?” he asks, softer now.
I glance back at the street, and the woman is gone.
“I’m fine,” I say. “She looked… sober.”
“I don’t care how she looks.” His voice is too sharp, too immediate. I hear him exhale roughly, like he knows it too. “Sorry,” he mutters. “I just—she’s fooled people before.”
There’s more movement on his end, another door shoved open hard enough that it echoes.
“We do this my way, okay? School, pickups, everything. Until I know what the hell she’s doing here.”
“Okay,” I whisper, and the line goes quiet for a second.
“Just… be careful, alright?” His voice is softer now. “I need you both safe.”
I swallow. “I know.”
When I hang up, my hands are steady, but my heart isn’t—and the day has barely started.
***
I’m at the school twenty minutes earlier than I need to be, and the parking lot is only half full.
A couple of parents linger near their cars with takeaway coffees, chatting in low voices.
The crossing guard leans against the signpost, checking her watch, and I sit behind the wheel and watch the gates.
Every car that turns into the lot makes my pulse jump, and every unfamiliar face on the pavement has my shoulders tightening before I can stop it. I tell myself she might not come back. Or maybe she got what she wanted this morning—just a quick glimpse.
The clock on the dash ticks over another minute, and my phone sits on the passenger seat.
No new messages from Evan, but I check it anyway. I glance up when a truck turns in too fast for the corner, and my breath catches before I even see the grille.
He’s here. Relief hits hard enough that I have to close my eyes for a second.
Evan parks crooked across the line and doesn’t bother fixing it, then he’s out of his door before the engine’s properly cut.
His station shirt is still on, still tucked into his duty pants, boots heavy against the asphalt as he crosses the lot.
When he spots me in the car, he comes straight to my door and opens it before I can.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
His eyes move over me quickly anyway, like he’s checking for something I wouldn’t necessarily tell him about. Then he nods once.
“Thank you,” he says, low enough that no one else hears it.
“For what?”
“Calling me. For not hesitating. I didn’t say it earlier, and I should’ve.”
There’s something tight in his voice, and it makes my chest squeeze.
I shrug. “Of course.”