Chapter 39 #2
My hands are shaking so badly I nearly drop the phone. My heart is pounding in my ears, and I feel like I might throw up.
How did he get my number? How did he find me?
I changed my number years ago. I’ve been so careful. So, so careful.
I remind myself to breathe, then to slowly exhale and breathe again.
It was just a phone call. He doesn’t know where I am. He can’t hurt me. He can’t hurt April.
I set the phone face-down on my desk and stare at it like it might bite me.
It’s fine. I’m fine. I just need to forget it. Pretend it never happened. Steven is in the past, and that’s exactly where he’s going to stay.
I turn back to my computer and try to focus on work, but the words on the screen blur together. My hands are still trembling, and no matter how many times I tell myself to calm down, my body won’t listen.
The morning drags by in a haze. I manage to finish the invoices, even though I have to double-check my work three times because I keep entering the wrong numbers. My client emails are short and probably a little more direct than they should be, but at least they’re professional.
By lunchtime, I’m starting to feel almost normal again. The shaking has stopped. My heart rate has returned to something close to normal. I even manage to eat half a sandwich without feeling nauseous.
Which I’m taking as pretty solid proof that I’m fine. I can handle one fucked-up phone call every decade or so.
I’m about to dive back into work when my phone rings again.
It’s a different number this time with a local area code. And maybe I’m not fine after all, because I almost reflexively decline the call after the first ring.
But no. I refuse to live in fear. If I start rejecting calls now, I’ll be jumping at shadows for weeks. I can’t let Steven do this to me again.
I answer. “Hello?”
“Ms. Lucas? This is Mrs. Delgado, April’s principal.”
Every muscle in my body clenches so hard and tight that I nearly double over.
“Is April okay? Did something happen?” I’m about two seconds away from a full-blown panic attack, but I know I need to hold it together for April’s sake.
“She’s safe and in the office with me right now,” Principal Delgado says quickly, but I can hear the tension in her voice.
“We do have a situation here, though. There’s a man claiming to be April’s father.
He’s demanding to take her home, and he’s becoming increasingly agitated.
I’ve told him he’s not on our approved pickup list, but he’s insisting—”
I don’t hear the rest.
My chair crashes backward as I jump to my feet, and I’m already grabbing my purse and keys.
“I’m on my way,” I shout into the phone as I run toward the door. “Don’t let him near her. Do you hear me? Don’t let him anywhere near my daughter.”
“We won’t, Ms. Lucas. I promise. But please hurry.”
Steven is at April’s school. Steven found her.
My worst nightmare is playing out in real time, and I’m helpless to stop it.
I don’t remember getting to my car. I don’t remember starting it or pulling out of the parking lot. My entire world has narrowed until the only thing I’m focused on, the only thing that matters, is getting to April.
How did he find her school? How did this happen?
The school comes into view and my vision tunnels as I bypass the parking lot and drive right up to the curb that’s closest to the front door. I’m so focused on getting to my daughter that I don’t even see Steven standing in front of me until I’ve almost trampled him.
I stop a few feet away from him, close enough to get a good look at the man who made my life a living hell for so long.
He looks older and harder, if that’s even possible. His hair is thinner than I remember, and there are new lines around his mouth. But his eyes—those cold, calculating eyes—are exactly the same.
“There she is,” he says. “The world’s best mom.”
That old, familiar mockery in his tone nearly makes me throw up. Every instinct I have is telling me to turn around and run, to put as much distance between us as possible. But my whole life is just inside that building, and I’m not going anywhere without her.
“You need to leave. Now.” My voice comes out steadier than I feel.
“Leave?” He laughs, but it’s a dark, bitter sound. “I came all this way to see my daughter, and you think I’m just gonna leave?”
“You have no claim on her.”
His expression darkens. “The hell I don’t. I’m on the birth certificate, remember? Or did you conveniently forget that detail when you stole her from me?”
“I didn’t steal her. I left you. There’s a difference.”
“You left in the middle of the night like a thief.” He takes a step closer, and I have to force myself not to back away. “You took my kid and changed your number. You both disappeared off the face of the earth, and for what? So you could shack up with some dumbass hockey player?”
“How do you know about—” I start to say Grant’s name, but think better of it. “How did you even find me?”
“You think I can’t do a simple internet search? I saw the pictures from some game, and there you were. Imagine my surprise to see you and April sitting right behind the glass. Real cozy.” His lip curls into a sneer. “Grant Parker, the big shot goalie. Is that who you’re whoring around with now?”
My blood runs cold and my whole body starts to go numb as I realize what he’s saying.
He was able to find me, to piece together enough information that he could show up at April’s school, because of the choices I’ve made.
Because Grant and I decided to go public with our relationship.
Because the private, safe little world I’ve built for myself and April over the years doesn’t exist anymore.
April’s school is on lockdown and she’s probably terrified in there because of my lack of foresight, and I shudder to think of what would’ve happened if the principal hadn’t intervened.
God, just the thought of Steven leaving the school grounds with her is enough to put me into a blind rage.
“Leave.” The word comes out of my mouth with a dangerous growl that surprises both of us, and I get a split-second of satisfaction from seeing his eyes go wide before he schools his expression again. “Get the hell out of here and don’t come back.”
“What? You can move on with your life, but I can’t even see my own daughter?”
“You lost the right to see her when you—” I stop myself, swallowing the words. I won’t do this here. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing how easily he can still get under my skin.
“When I what?” He moves closer again, and now I can feel the anger radiating from him. I don’t think he’ll try anything too crazy out here in public—in a schoolyard, no less—but I can’t be sure. “When I tried to make you into something better than what you were? When I supported you?”
“You supported me?” The words taste bitter. “Is that what you call it?”
“I gave you a place to live. I put a roof over your head. And how did you repay me?” He’s right in front of me now, too close, invading my space the way he always did. “You took everything and ran.”
“I took my daughter away from a bad situation.”
“Oh, please. A bad situation?” He practically spits the words. “You were always so dramatic, Heather. Always making everything into some big tragedy.”
My hands curl into fists at my sides. This is exactly what he always does. He twists everything until I start to doubt my own reality.
But I’m not the scared girl that he used to push around so easily. I’m not the same person who cowered in his apartment, or who made herself small and quiet and agreeable just to keep the peace.
“I want you to leave,” I say again, pulling on every ounce of my self-control to keep my own anger in check. “If you don’t, I’m calling the police.”
“And tell them what? That a father is trying to see his daughter? Good luck with that. I have rights.”
“So do I. I’ll get a restraining order if I have to. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you away from April.”
“That’s not your choice to make anymore.
” He reaches out suddenly and grabs my upper arm, digging his fingers in hard enough to leave a bruise.
“You think you can just decide I don’t get to see my own kid?
You’re the judge, the jury, and the executioner now?
” He gives my arm a shake, and I bite down hard on my tongue to keep from crying out in pain as he squeezes harder. “Is that how you think this works?”
He loosens his grip just enough for me to jerk my arm away, and the momentum of my body makes me stumble back a step. My skin is burning where he grabbed me, and I can already feel the bruise forming.
“Don’t fucking touch me, Steven.”
“Or what?” He follows, closing the distance again. “You’ll tell your boyfriend? Do you really think he’s gonna come save you?”
“I don’t need anyone to save me.” My heart is hammering so hard I’m surprised he can’t hear it. “I need you to leave. Now.”
“I’m not going anywhere without April.”
“That’s not happening.”
“We’ll see about that. I’ll get a fucking lawyer. I’ve spent the last few years getting my life together. Unlike you, apparently, who has to mooch off some athlete to survive.”
His words sting, even though I know I shouldn’t let him get to me like this. That’s what he does. He finds the soft spots and presses until it hurts.
“My daughter isn’t leaving with you,” I say, squaring my shoulders and standing toe to toe with him.
He might be bigger, but I’m not scared of him anymore.
Not when it comes to protecting April. “Not today or any other day. If you want to fight this legally, fine. Get a lawyer and go through the courts. But you’re not taking her today. ”
“Now listen, you ungrateful—”
“No.” I pull my phone from my pocket, hating that my hand has started to tremble. “You need to leave right now, or I’m calling the police. Your choice.”
For a moment, we just stare at each other. I can see the calculation in his eyes, the way he’s weighing his options and trying to decide if I’m bluffing.
I’m not.
I unlock my phone with shaking fingers and start to dial 911.
“What are you doing?” His voice shifts, turning low and dangerous. He takes a step toward me instead of away, close enough that I can smell his once-familiar cologne. “Hang up. Right now.”
Instead of responding, I press the final number and hold the phone up to my ear as the call connects.
“You fucking bitch,” he hisses, his narrowed eyes boring into mine. “You never could just do what you were told, could you? Always had to make everything harder than it needed to be.”
“911, what’s your emergency?”
Steven freezes, his nostrils flaring.
“I’m at my daughter’s school,” I say, my voice thready but loud enough that he can hear every word. “My ex showed up here and tried to take her. He’s threatening me, and I need help.”
His jaw tightens. For a second, I think he might lunge for me to try to wrestle the phone away from me or do something far worse, consequences be damned.
Instead, he lifts his hands slowly, almost mockingly. “Jesus Christ.”
I give the dispatcher the address, my eyes never leaving his face. I answer the woman’s questions as quickly as I can, telling her what he did, where we are, and that he’s still right in front of me.
Steven backs away one step at a time, shaking his head. “This isn’t over,” he mutters. “You hear me? You just made things a whole lot worse for yourself. Hope you’re fucking happy.”
“Stay where you are,” the dispatcher says in my ear. “Officers are on their way.”
Steven must be able to hear at least some of her words even at a distance, because he turns and stalks toward the parking lot. I force myself to stay upright and to keep watching as he gets into his car. I manage to give them a partial plate number and the make of the car before he pulls away.
“He’s leaving now,” I whisper past the lump in my throat. “He’s gone.”
“Are you injured?”
My voice finally cracks. “He grabbed my arm. I think it’s bruised. I just—I need to get to my daughter.”
“The officers will meet you there. Stay on the line.”
The adrenaline drains out of me all at once. My knees wobble, and I sink down onto the curb with my phone still pressed to my ear, breathing hard.
I have to hold it together. I can’t let myself fall apart.
Not yet. Not until I have April safely in my arms.