Chapter 19 #2
I push the covers aside and slide out of bed, needing to move. My feet are silent on the hallway carpet as I make my way to the kitchen.
The house is sleeping, the kind of deep silence that only happens in the middle of the night.
I go to the fridge, opening the door slowly so the light doesn’t flood the room. Inside, on the top shelf, is a carton of orange juice. Jude bought it yesterday.
I reach for it, my fingers closing around the cold cardboard.
Suddenly, my hand freezes.
I’m standing in a cramped, dirty kitchen in Portland. It’s three in the morning. I’m thirsty, my throat parched from crying. I reach for the milk carton.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Luke’s voice cuts through the darkness. He’s leaning in the doorway, a cigarette hanging from his lip, his eyes narrowed.
“That milk is for Maisie’s cereal in the morning. I paid for that. You don’t get to just drink it because you feel like it.”
“I’m thirsty, Luke,” I whisper, cowering. “I haven’t eaten all day.”
“Maybe if you hadn’t gotten fired for showing up high again, we’d have some extra money for you to guzzle milk,” he snaps, walking over and snatching the carton from my hand. “You contribute nothing. You’re a drain. You think this food is free? You think you get to just take?”
He looms over me, backing me into the counter. “If you can’t pay with money, Amber, you know the arrangement. You want something? You earn it.”
Bile rises in my throat, burning and acidic.
I slam the fridge door shut, the sound too loud in the quiet house. I stand there in the dark, shaking. I look at my hand.
It’s empty. I’m not in Portland. I’m not with Luke.
But the memory is so visceral I can taste the stale smoke. I can feel the shame of needing a drink of water and having to barter for it.
I remember the nights I gave him my body because I hadn’t made enough at my waitressing job that week, and he made sure I knew exactly how much I “owed” him for rent and groceries.
I hated him. I hated myself for letting him.
I can’t believe I lived like that. I can’t believe I let a man treat me like a tenant in my own life, like a vending machine where he put in anger and got out sex.
I move to the sink, turning on the tap. I splash cold water on my face, trying to wash away the phantom sensation of his hands. It doesn’t help.
The house feels too quiet, too big. I feel trapped by my own history.
Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.
The noise comes from the back door. A loud, clawing sound against the wood.
I freeze. Then, recognition cuts through the fog. The raccoon.
He’s back.
I look at the fridge again. I can take the juice. Jude bought it for me. He bought it for Maisie. It belongs to us.
I grab a ceramic saucer from the cabinet and fill it with warm water from the tap. I don’t know why, but I need to do this.
I need to feed something without asking permission. I need to care for something small and hungry.
I unlock the back door and ease it open. The cold air hits me, shocking my lungs. I step onto the deck, my bare feet numb against the wood.
The raccoon is there, huddled near the wall. He looks up at me, his masked face twitching.
“Hey,” I whisper. “I know. It’s cold.”
I set the saucer down near him. He hesitates, then waddles over, dipping his paws into the water and drinking greedily.
I crouch there, watching him, feeling a strange sense of calm settle over me. He’s just an animal trying to survive. Like me.
“Mommy!”
The scream tears through the night, high-pitched and terrified.
I’m on my feet instantly, the raccoon scurrying into the shadows. I sprint back into the house, slamming the door. The scream came from the bedroom.
“Maisie!”
I run down the hallway, my heart in my throat. I burst into the room.
Maisie is sitting up in bed, her hands clutched in the duvet, her face wet with tears. The lamp is on, a harsh yellow light flooding the room.
“Mommy! The floor!” she sobs, pointing a shaking finger at the rug. “It’s gone! It’s all gone!”
I rush to the bed, scooping her up into my arms. “I’m here. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
“I fell and there was nothing!” she cries, burying her face in my neck. “I kept falling and no one caught me.”
I rock her, my hand stroking her back, my own heart racing. “It was just a dream, bug. Just a bad dream. The floor is right here. Feel it?” I keep one hand under her, patting the mattress with the other. “Solid. We’re safe.”
Footsteps thunder in the hallway.
The door flies open. Jude is there first, shirtless, his hair wild, a baseball bat in his hand. Ryker is right behind him, looking ready to fight a bear. Dorian and Norah are in the hallway, pale and worried.
“What happened?” Jude demands, his eyes scanning the room for an intruder. “Is someone here?”
“No,” I say, not loosening my grip on Maisie. “She had a nightmare.”
Everyone deflates. Jude lowers the bat, his shoulders dropping.
“Oh, thank god,” Norah breathes, leaning against Dorian.
“I’ll take her,” Jude says, stepping forward. “You look like you’re about to pass out, Amber.”
“No.” I pull Maisie tighter. “I’ve got this. You guys go back to bed.”
“Are you sure?” Ryker asks, frowning. “It’s three a.m.”
“I’m sure,” I insist. I need this. I need to be the one who fixes it. I need to prove that I can handle my daughter without a village, even if the village is standing right there. “Please. Just... go back to sleep.”
They hesitate for a moment, looking at my strained face. Jude searches my eyes, then nods slowly.
“Okay. Call us if you need anything,” he says. “Anything at all.”
They file out, closing the door softly. The house settles back into silence, except for Maisie’s hiccuping sobs.
I lie down with her, pulling the covers up. She curls into my side, her small body shivering.
“I was falling forever,” she whispers. “You weren’t there.”
“I’m here now,” I say, kissing her forehead. “I’m never leaving you. I promise.”
It takes a long time for her breathing to slow down. I stare at the ceiling, the weight of her small body pressing against me.
The responsibility of it is crushing. I’m her entire world. If I fail, she falls. And there’s no one else to catch her.
I don’t sleep. I hold her until the sun starts to bleed through the curtains, painting the room in gray. I listen to her breathe, counting every inhale as a victory.
By the time morning arrives, I feel like a ghost. My eyes are grainy, my head pounds, and my soul feels like it’s been wrung out.
I extract myself from Maisie’s grip—she’s deeply asleep now—and pull on a robe. I shuffle to the kitchen, needing caffeine before I attempt to function.
Jude is already there. He’s leaning against the counter, a mug in hand, looking out the window. He turns when he hears me.
His eyes narrow as he takes in my appearance. “You didn’t go back to sleep.”
“No.”
He pours a mug of coffee and slides it across the island to me. “Sit.”
I sink onto a stool. The coffee is bitter and hot, jarring my senses.
“You look terrible, Amber,” he says gently. “And I don’t just mean the bags under your eyes. You look… exhausted.”
I wrap my hands around the mug, letting the warmth seep into my bones. “I had a rough night.”
“I gathered.” He moves closer, leaning on the counter so we’re eye level. “Is it work? Or is it... him? Did something happen with Eli? I know you want me to stay out of it, but I will go down to their house right this second if something happened. No one’s allowed to hurt you.”
“It’s not him.”
I see the anger sort of deflate from him. “Is this about Luke?”
My breath hitches. Luke’s name is always a shadow in this house.
“Both. Neither.” I stare into the dark liquid. “I just... I had a dream. And then a memory. And then Maisie... Shit, Jude, she was so scared.”
“Nightmares happen. She’s a kid.”
“It wasn’t just the dream.” I look up at him, and the tears finally spill over. I can’t stop them. “It was me. I’m the one who’s scared.”
“Of what?”
“Of failing her.” The words come out in a rush.
“I think about Luke, and the way we lived, and I wonder... how did I let that happen? How did I let a man treat me like that? I was so weak. And I failed her for so long. I let her see things she never should have seen. I let her go hungry so I could... so I could...”
I choke on a sob, covering my mouth with my hand.
Jude’s face softens into something devastating. He reaches out and takes my hand, gripping it tight.
“You didn’t fail her,” he says, his voice fierce. “You got her out.”
“Barely! I dragged her out of there with nothing but a suitcase and a prayer. I was a mess. I’ve been a mess.
” I shake my head, the self-loathing rising like bile.
“I look at you and Ryker and Dorian, and I see how you take care of Norah. How you protect her. I look at what she has here, and I wonder... will Maisie ever have that forever? Can I ever give her that? Or am I too broken? Will I just drag her down with me? Will I always be a burden to you guys, because I need your help taking care of my daughter?”
“Amber, stop.” Jude squeezes my hand until it hurts. “Look at me.”
I meet his gaze. His eyes are swimming with tears.
“You saved her,” he says. “You saved yourself. That isn’t weak. That’s the strongest thing I have ever seen. And taking care of her... of you... that was never a burden.”
“It feels like one,” I whisper.
“Well, it’s not.” He uses his thumb to wipe a tear off my cheek. “You’re my family. She’s my family. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you guys. Nothing. I don’t expect you to be perfect, Amber. I don’t expect you to have it all figured out. I just expect you to let me help you carry it.”
I let out a shuddering breath, the fight draining out of me. “I’m trying. It’s just hard.”
“I know.” He pulls me off the stool and into a hug.
It’s a brother hug—solid, grounding, smelling of sawdust and safety. I bury my face in his shoulder and let myself cry.
“You’re never going to lose us,” he says against my hair. “I promise you that. We’re in this forever. No matter what.”