Chapter 15
Shadows
Maliyah
The library had been perfect. Reed carried the bag with both kids' collections of books while Lucas peppered him with questions about whether detectives have ever actually used magnifying glasses and Zoe insisted on showing him every single butterfly in her picture book.
Twice.He'd handled it all with such patience, shifting to the outside of the sidewalk when we crossed streets—a protective gesture so natural he probably didn't realize he was doing it.
I'd found myself stealing glances at him throughout the afternoon.
The way he met Lucas's eyes when they spoke, treating my son's conversation with genuine consideration.
The patience with Zoe's endless "but why" questions.
Was I allowed to want this? To imagine someone sharing not just the joy of my children, but the exhausting, beautiful weight of them?
"Mama, can we read one of our new books when we get home?" Zoe asked, skipping beside me.
"After lunch, baby."
"Okie dokey."
We were half a block from my building when I saw him.
A tall figure in a dark sweatshirt standing near the coffee shop on the corner, partially hidden behind the outdoor menu board. Same build. Same way of holding his shoulders—weight on one leg, hands in pockets, head tilted slightly like he was watching something.
Watching us.
My breath caught. My steps faltered.
"Maliyah?" Reed's voice came from beside me. "What's wrong?"
I blinked, forcing myself to focus on the spot. The figure stepped back, melting into the shadow between the coffee shop and the dry cleaner next door. There one second. Gone the next.
"I—" My heart was hammering so hard I could barely hear my own voice. "I thought I saw someone."
Reed followed my gaze instantly, his body language shifting. Alert. Assessing. "Who? Him?"
"It's nothing." But my hands were shaking as I fumbled for my keys. "I'm being paranoid."
Reed leaned closer, his voice dropping to a murmur only I could hear. "Maliyah." His eyes darted briefly to the kids then back to me. "Someone you know?" The careful phrasing and the slight tilt of his head told me he understood—this wasn't a conversation for little ears
He could see I couldn't answer—not with the kids right beside us.
Showing his understanding, Reed said, "Let's get inside."
The kids, oblivious to the tension, chattered about their books as we climbed the stairs to my apartment. Reed stayed behind us, and I noticed him checking that the entry door closed securely before following. Positioning himself between my family and the street below.
Once we were inside with the door locked, Reed helped the kids spread their library books across the living room floor while I tried to shake off the lingering unease.
Maybe I was being paranoid. Maybe it had just been someone who looked similar from a distance. But the way my chest had seized up, the instant recognition followed by the disappearing act—it felt too familiar.
"Okay guys," I said, forcing normalcy into my voice. "How about you look through your books while Reed and I make some lunch?"
"Can we have grilled cheese?" Zoe asked, already absorbed in a book about penguins.
"Sure thing."
In the kitchen, Reed immediately moved closer, his voice quiet. "Talk to me. Did you catch sight of him?"
I busied myself getting bread and cheese from the refrigerator, needing something to do with my hands. "I don’t know. I thought him for a brief moment, but it could all just be my anxiety." I paused, setting the ingredients on the counter.
Reed went very still. "Where? Was it when we rounded the corner? Or on the same street here? Exactly where did you think you saw him?"
"Near the coffee shop on the corner—half a block down. Right off of Broadway. But, Reed, it was just a flash. What if I’m just being paranoid?"
"Two sightings in two days isn't paranoia, sweetheart," Reed said as he brushed the hair back from my face. "That's a pattern."
I turned the stove on low, hands still shaking slightly. "I feel like I need to tell you everything. About Bryce. About what happened back then."
"Okay." Reed's voice was careful, gentle. "I'm listening."
"We dated for pretty much all of college. He was charming, kind, fun, smart. My parents loved him. Even Felicity liked him at first."
The butter started to sizzle in the pan.
"It started small. He had a temper about certain things—if I spent too much time studying, if I had a male professor, if I couldn't make it to dinner with his parents or go away for the weekend with his family.
" I forced myself to keep talking, my voice cracking as the memories flooded in.
"Early on it was just words. Yelling. Guilt trips. "
Reed was completely silent behind me. I was still doing everything I could to avoid looking into his eyes.
"The first time he got physical—I was so surprised that I don’t think I even realized what was happening.
We’d been arguing about a study group I’d been to where there were other men.
He’d grabbed my arm, twisting the skin until it burned.
Then, before I knew it, his hand was on my face, thumb and fingers pressing into my cheeks so hard that my teeth cut the inside of my mouth. "
I rubbed my arm absently, my fingers tracing the underside of my forearm. "For days afterward, I tugged my sleeves down whenever they rode up. I became a pro at makeup—building thin layers over the marks until they disappeared."
I turned to look at him, eye to eye. “It wasn’t long before he felt empowered and a bruise became a break, indentations from fingers became swelling from a fist."
"By my senior year, I’d learned to read his moods.
" Dropping my head a bit and breaking eye contact, I continued, "I was out to lunch with a girlfriend.
Her boyfriend saw us and pulled up a chair—along with his roommate.
" I could see it so clearly—the restaurant, the moment I'd looked up and seen Bryce through the window, watching.
"He was waiting for me when I got home that night. "
I had to stop. Had to take a breath. I turned back to look at the stove where the grilled cheese sandwiches were browning.
"When it was over..." My voice cracked. "Stitches on the inside of my lip.
More along my hairline. Had a ruptured eardrum on my left side that required surgery.
" I reached up to touch my earlobe. The room tilted slightly, just as it had that night when my head cracked against the plaster and for hours the world went silent on my left side—for weeks I felt like I was under water.
Reed came up behind me. His fingers found the hem of my shirt, gathering the fabric with a gentleness that made my breath catch.
The warmth of him pressed against my back, solid and steady as a wall between me and the rest of the world.
My shoulders, which had been rigid with tension, softened under his touch.
When his forehead came to rest in the curve where my neck met my shoulder, I didn't flinch away.
Instead, I leaned back, just slightly, into the shelter of him.
"What happened then?" His voice was barely above a whisper—if his lips hadn’t been so close to my ear, I never would have heard him. "How did you get away?"
"Felicity." I straightened, still feeling his warmth but creating just enough space between us.
"When I could finally see straight, I didn't even think to call 911.
I called my sister." A bitter laugh escaped me.
"She found me on the bathroom floor. Got me to the ER.
After the surgery and overnight stay, this nurse connected me with Passageway.
They became everything—shelter, counseling, a roadmap when I couldn't see past the next hour. "
My legs felt suddenly hollow. I eased away from his warmth, pulled the food off the stove, and found the nearest bar stool, letting my weight collapse onto it before my knees could give way.
"I had an old roommate in Florida—Grace. Bryce never met her, didn't know about her—she’d left after a month at BU, but we’d kept in touch.
Felicity loaned me money to get there. I was only twenty-two.
" I looked down at my hands. "We never told our parents about what he did. They both passed not long after in a car accident. You know, I was too afraid to come back, so I didn’t go to their funeral.
Felicity came down soon after and we celebrated their lives together, spreading their ashes. "
"Jesus," Reed breathed.
My shoulders relaxed, and I felt the familiar warmth spread through my chest that always came when I talked about the work that had saved me.
"Passageway connected me with an organization in Florida that supports domestic violence victims. I started volunteering because it was the only place I felt safe.
" I waved a hand, encompassing years of work, therapy, rebuilding.
"Eventually it became my life's work. And then—here we are.
Back in Boston. Less than six months back, and I run into him. "
Reed busied himself with plating the food for the kids.
"Stay. I’ll be right back." He grabbed a couple waters from the fridge.
From my perch on the counter stool, I listened as Reed's voice drifted in from the family room, followed by the familiar sounds of plates being set down and Reed telling them to put the books up so they don’t get dirty.
It wasn’t long before I heard him approach and felt his warmth at my side. He leaned into the counter next to me. Not looking at me—just side by side as we sat there. The sounds of the kids chattering filling the silence.
He dropped his head. "I’m so fucking sorry."
"I should have told you sooner. It's been almost fifteen years, Reed. I thought he wouldn't care anymore, though, and that it was better left as a memory."
"Men like Bryce don't stop caring about control.
" Reed's voice was gentle but firm. "Will you let me help you? Really help. I won’t take over or make decisions for you.
But this is a much bigger deal than I realized—those kinds of injuries.
" He let out a breath. "Maliyah, that’s not the kind of guy who just stops. "
I looked at this man asking permission instead of assuming, respecting my boundaries even when every instinct probably told him to do more.
"Yes," I whispered. "Okay. You’re right."
He stood and pulled me up with him, wrapping his arms around me. My cheek pressed against his shirt, and I felt the first tear slide down. Then another. Each one carrying away a piece of the weight I'd been holding alone.
After a few minutes, I pulled back. Reed's expression had shifted—analytical, processing.
"You have documentation from back then? Hospital records, police reports?"
"Yes. Photos too."
He looked relieved. "That's good. I'd like to make some calls.
See what I can find out about him—what he's doing now, if there have been any complaints.
" He paused, pulling out his phone. "And we can change your routines for a while.
I can drive you places when I'm available.
What do you think about having Felicity help out too? "
"Let’s see how things go. I don’t want to freak her out if it’s nothing." I could tell he didn’t love that, but he didn’t push—didn’t force it.
"Maliyah, I think we should file a report. Document everything."
My stomach tightened and the old familiar fears skated through me, whispering to hide away instead. But I looked at Reed. I saw his determination. I saw that he was really here with me. And that he would walk with me on this. "Okay.
"But Reed, I need you to understand—I spent years learning to take care of myself and my kids. It's not that I don't want your help—I do. I just need to feel like I have a choice in how that help looks."
"I won’t take over. We’ll do things just like we did here—talking it out and coming to a plan together."
I nodded, my shoulders relaxing. Something in his eyes—steady, unwavering—told me more than his words could.
Reed wrapped his arm around me, pulling out his phone with his other hand. "Maliyah?"
"Yeah?"
"Whatever this is with Bryce, whatever happens—I'm right here."
He pulled me close, and I let myself lean into him. The sound of my children's voices drifted in from the other room—ordinary, everyday chatter that suddenly felt extraordinary. My body knew what my mind was just catching up to: with Reed, I wasn't just letting Reed help me. I was letting him in.
"Mama!" Zoe's voice called from the living room. "Lucas says his truck can eat all my butterflies but I don't think that's true! Is it true?"
Reed laughed against my hair. "Duty calls."
"Damn," I muttered. "There goes our moment."
But as I went to referee the debate, I realized something else. This chaos, this life I'd built—I wasn't facing it alone anymore.
And for the first time in as long as I could remember, that didn't feel terrifying.
It felt like hope.