3. Cece
CECE
I follow his taillights up the canyon.
That's not a metaphor. That's a literal fact of what is happening right now. I am following the taillights of a man I met forty minutes ago up a narrow, unlit, switchback mountain road in the dark because he offered and I said yes.
This is how the women die in every true crime podcast I’ve ever listened to. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I’m not even scared.
I should be. My nervous system has been running on scared for so long it basically renders it scared by default.
Scared is the resting state. Scared is what I was in the parking lot of every rest stop.
Scared is what got me out the door of the house I spent six years in and into this packed-up car with my daughter and everything I could fit.
But I am not scared right now. I am driving down a canyon road behind a deputy's cruiser and my hands are at ten and two and my whole chest is doing something loose and warm that I don’t even recognize.
I’m losing my edge. I know it.
I glance at Birdie in the rearview. Still out.
Cheeks pink from the car seat straps, mouth slightly open.
She looks like her dad right now. The best parts of him only.
That’s all it takes for me to think about Greg, even though I don’t want to.
I try to push them away, but the thoughts come anyway, and somehow that’s right on brand for Greg.
Greg never once did anything for me without making me feel like I owed him.
He never opened a door for me. Greg never walked on the street side of the sidewalk or offered me his jacket or put his hand on the small of my back to guide me through a crowded room.
Greg thought chivalry was a performance other men did to make him look bad.
He said so out loud, often, but of course only when it was just the two of us.
I did everything for six years. A part of me thought things would change when Birdie came along, but that wasn’t the case.
I was the one who got up at two in the morning when Birdie had a fever.
I was the one who booked the pediatrician and remembered the vaccines and packed the diaper bag and stocked the freezer with meals for the weeks Greg was too busy to deal with dinner.
And the money. God, the money.
I was the one who handled the finances, right up until I wasn't… Right up until the week before the divorce papers were finalized when I logged into our joint account and found it empty, down to nineteen dollars. Greg told me over the phone it was his right.
It wasn't.
We both knew it wasn't. But by the time I had a lawyer who could prove it, I had already decided the price of fighting for the money was the price of staying in that town. The price of staying in that town was higher than the money.
So I packed the car. I took what I could get. I drove a million miles until a deputy named Ryan bought my daughter's diapers in a general store at the bottom of a canyon like it was nothing.
My eyes sting and I blink it back.
Get it together, Cece. He paid for diapers.
That's all it was. He paid for diapers and offered you a police escort and told you he had you which is a thing cops are trained to say and also a thing that is probably in his job description.
He wasn't on duty when he paid. He was in uniform but he used his own cash.
“Ugh!” I slap a hand to the steering wheel.
Come on Cece, get your shit together.
I don’t know why I’ve let him rattle me anyway. So what if he’s smoking hot and probably looks insane without a shirt. His cruiser slows ahead of me.
I see the turnoff for Evelyn's ridge road and let out a deep exhale as reality creeps back in around me. The road narrows. The trees close in. My headlights catch his brake lights and I follow him up the last quarter mile to the cabin at the top of the ridge. When I see it my throat gets tight.
It's a small, quaint cabin with an overgrown warmly lit porch. There are flowers spilling from wooden window boxes and smoke curling from the chimney. It looks… safe. I forget all about my crumbling world for a minute. Instead I’m overwhelmed with happiness for my sister.
She deserves every bit of this life she’s built.
Ryan pulls into the gravel drive and I park behind him. I sit with my hands at ten and two for a second because I'm here. My body doesn't know what to do with here.
The front door opens before I can get out of my car.
Evelyn comes out first. It’s my brave, bold little sister in a flannel shirt with her curls loose. Just the sight of her is enough to make my eyes sting. Her husband James is right behind her, tall and bearded. He’s moving toward my car.
Ryan is already out of his cruiser. He nods to James and they greet each other like old friends, maybe even like family. Ryan says something I can't hear, and James laughs and claps him on the shoulder.
I get out of the car.
Evelyn sees me and stops dead. Her mouth falls open. Her hand goes up to her chest. "Cece. What? Oh my God! Cece!"
"Hi."
"What in the world— Did you bring Birdie?" She looks at the car. Then her eyes widen as she takes it in. "Wait… what?"
“Is it the packed-to-the-ceiling luggage or the sleeping-toddler silhouette that’s throwing you off?” Then I cut to the chase because I’m not sure I can hold it together for a minute longer. "Can I stay for a while?"
Her eyes fill. She covers the gravel between us in three steps and she has me in her arms before I can finish the sentence. I press my face into her shoulder. I hold on for exactly two seconds, which is all I can afford right now because I am not going to fall apart in the driveway.
"As long as you need," she says into my hair. "Cece. As long as you need."
Somewhere behind me, I hear Birdie crying and I pull away. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me. Don't you dare thank me." She pulls back. She holds my face in both hands. She looks at me with the full force of the sister look I have been on the receiving end of all my life, and I let her.
I pull away in time to see Ryan open the back door with that same unhurried patience. I hear him make a low sound, not words, just a quiet acknowledgment that there's a crying child back there.
“Can I get her out?” Ryan shouts and the question catches me off guard.
What kind of a single man voluntarily picks up a crying baby?
“Yeah, sure. Thanks.”
I watch as his massive hands find the buckle. He works the car seat clips with deliberation. He lifts Birdie out and it makes me go still.
She doesn't lunge toward me the way she did every time Greg held her. Instead she settles against Ryan’s chest with Flower tucked under her arm.
The sight of this enormous man in a deputy's uniform holding my two-year-old daughter like she weighs nothing and belongs there etches into my mind.
The image is going to live rent free in my head forever.
Birdie holds up her rabbit and tells him all about it. It’s only half babble and half actual words, but somehow it’s enough for Ryan. He smiles back and asks her questions. He strokes the stuffed rabbit on the back of the head. My insides quiver.
He carries her to the porch. James is already holding the door. Evelyn's hand is on my back, guiding me in. I cross the gravel in a daze and step into my sister's warm kitchen.
Fifteen minutes pass in the blink of an eye.
Before I know it everything is unloaded.
It's a whirlwind of comfort, tea, and small talk. It’s bitter sweet to see Ryan and James wrapped around Birdie’s finger but it breaks my heart to know that her father has willingly given up the opportunity to build a relationship with her.
Once everything settles, Ryan stands and heads toward the front door. Birdie springs out of Evelyn’s arms and dashes toward him. She reaches one small hand out and Ryan lets her catch his finger.
“Don’t leave.” She blinks up at him.
“Aww, looks like you’ve got a new friend.” Evelyn smiles over her coffee mug.
“You’ll see me around.” He smiles and something breaks open in my chest.
“When?” I slap a hand over my mouth, but it’s too late. I blurted the word out like some kind of obsessed ex-girlfriend.
Ryan doesn’t miss a beat. "Tomorrow. The station's doing a community safety event at the park. Face painting, some of the trucks, the K-9 unit. It's a good thing. Kids love it. You should come.”
"Okay," I hear myself say.