25. Gabby
Gabby
I hold Luke’s hand as we walk into the fancy therapy center. I feel his anxiety. He insisted on bringing the blanket and Steggy—the stegosaurus. He’s got his dinosaur backpack on, stuffed with more of the dinosaurs Nikolai bought him.
He was quiet on the drive over. I’ve tried to explain what we’re doing, but how do I explain therapy? So, he thinks this is school.
School, he knows.
The center is beautiful. Clean. Bright, but not too bright. The lighting is soft. The colors are muted blues and greens. There’s a small play area in the corner with sensory toys—textured balls, weighted blankets, and fidget spinners arranged neatly in bins.
Everything about this place screams expensive.
I try not to think about what this appointment costs. Nikolai made the call. Got us in within a week. Places like this have waitlists that stretch months, sometimes years.
I sign in and take a seat with Luke sitting wide-eyed beside me.
“Gabby Collins?”
I look up. A woman stands in the doorway, clipboard in hand, wearing a friendly smile.
“That’s me.” I stand, helping Luke gather his things.
“I’m Rebecca. I’ll be working with Luke today.” She bends to his level. “Hi, Luke. I heard you like dinosaurs.”
Luke looks at her briefly, then at me.
“He does,” I say. “They’re his favorite.”
“Mine, too,” Rebecca says. “Do you have a favorite dinosaur?”
Luke hesitates.
When he doesn’t answer, she smiles. “Why don’t we go back to my office first? I’d like to talk with you about what we’re going to do today, and then Luke and I will spend some time together.”
I nod and follow her down the hall, Luke’s hand in mine.
We sit down, and she asks a few questions. Mostly, she wants to know about his struggles. Since it’s his first visit, they’ll do an evaluation.
“And school?” she asks.
“We’re still deciding,” I say.
We go through a few more questions about Luke and what she’ll need to know to help him.
“Okay.” She sets down her clipboard. “Here’s what I’m thinking.
Today is going to be an assessment. I’m going to spend about an hour with Luke.
We’ll do some activities. Some play-based, some structured.
I want to see how he responds to different stimuli.
How he handles transitions. How he communicates when he’s frustrated. ”
“Will I be there?”
“For the first few minutes, yes. Then I’ll ask you to step out. Sometimes kids behave differently when their parents are in the room. I want to see how he does on his own.”
Panic flickers through me. “He doesn’t do well when I’m not there.”
“I understand. But I promise, if he gets too overwhelmed, I’ll bring you right back in.”
My heart pounds. I remind myself that he’s fine with Kylie. He doesn’t always need me.
I look at Luke. He’s lining up the toys on the table by size. Smallest to largest.
“Okay,” I say quietly.
Rebecca stands. “Luke, do you want to come play with me for a bit?”
He looks at me.
“I’ll be right outside,” I tell him. “Miss Rebecca is going to play some games with you. And then we’ll go home.”
He considers this. “Okay.”
I kiss the top of his head and watch him follow Rebecca out of the office and into another room down the hall. She leaves the door open. I see her pull out a bin of toys and start talking to him in the same calm, easy voice.
I force myself to walk back to the waiting room.
There’s a woman at the front desk now. She sees me and smiles. “First time here?”
“Yes.”
“Rebecca is wonderful. Your son is in good hands.”
I nod, not trusting my voice.
She slides a brochure across the desk. “We also have a school program. It’s a small class setting, designed specifically for kids with different needs. If you’re interested, the information is all in there.”
I take the brochure. “Thank you.”
I sit back down and flip it open. The photos are beautiful. Small classrooms. Kids engaged in activities. Teachers who look patient and kind.
Then I see the tuition.
I close the brochure and almost laugh.
There’s no way. Even if I worked double shifts for the next year, I couldn’t afford that. I won’t tell Nik about the school. He’ll offer to pay. I can’t let him take this on, too.
Maybe they have scholarships. Or financial aid. I’ll ask before I leave.
I put the brochure in my purse. My old purse, since the asshole stole my good one. I walk over to the wall to take in the other programs the center offers. Playdates. Group settings. A place that offers equine therapy.
I pour myself a cup of coffee from the refreshment bar and sit in one of the armchairs near the window. Through the glass, I see Luke in the therapy room with the OT. She’s showing him blocks. He’s watching her carefully, that serious expression on his face.
He looks okay. He looks engaged.
I let myself imagine what it would be like if we really stayed and this became our life. Luke in a school where they understand him. Me with a job I like. A home that’s safe.
Nikolai.
I push that thought away before it can take root. I can’t think about him like that. I can’t let myself fall any deeper than I already have.
But God, it’s hard.
I’m halfway through my coffee when a woman sits in the chair across from me. She’s maybe forty, well-dressed in that casual-expensive way. Designer jeans. Heels. The whole Real Housewives look.
“Excuse me,” she says with a friendly smile. “I’m sorry to bother you, but you look so familiar.”
There is zero chance she and I have ever encountered each other in the wild. “I get that sometimes. I work at one of the casinos on the Strip. Maybe you’ve been there?”
“Which one?”
I tell her, and she tilts her head, considering. “No, I don’t gamble. That’s not it.” She’s still studying my face. “Have you lived in Vegas long?”
“A couple years.” The lie comes easily. I’ve practiced it enough times. I lick my suddenly dry lips. My palms are sweaty now, too. “Before that I was in the Midwest. Ohio.”
“Hmm.” She doesn’t look convinced. “I could swear I know you from somewhere.”
I laugh, but it sounds forced even to my ears. “I just have one of those faces, I guess. Super common.”
“Maybe.” She’s still looking at me with that puzzled expression. “Are you an influencer? Maybe I’ve seen you online?”
“No.”
She doesn’t know you. She can’t know you. You look nothing like Gabriella, the mafia princess who was forced to marry an evil man doesn’t exist.
But what if she does know? What if she’s from New York? New Jersey? What if she’s connected?
I don’t want this woman to see Luke. I don’t know why, but I’m trusting my gut.
“Excuse me,” I say and walk away.
Thankfully, I’m allowed to go back and watch from where the woman can’t see me.
When they’re finished, Rebecca takes us back to her office and closes the door.
“He did great,” she says. “Really great. I’ll put together a schedule and email you in a couple of days. I’m thinking once a week OT. Maybe twice a week.”
“Thank you.”
She hands me some papers. “These are some activities you can do at home. And here’s my initial assessment. We’ll do a full write-up after a few more sessions.”
I take the papers. “What do you think?”
“It’s too early for me to diagnose anything, but I’m seeing several markers consistent with autism. I’d like to do a more comprehensive evaluation once I’ve spent some more time with him.”
I nod slowly. I thought hearing the word would scare me. Instead, something inside me loosens. And I feel relief more than anything.
Maybe there’s finally an explanation. A way to understand what Luke needs instead of constantly wondering if I’m getting it wrong.
Luke’s hand finds mine, and I squeeze it gently.
We make it to the front desk, where I schedule the next appointment. The woman from earlier is gone. I check the parking lot through the window before we leave, scanning for anyone who looks like they’re waiting.
Nothing. Just normal people going about their normal days.
“You did so good, buddy,” I tell Luke as we walk to the car. “I’m so proud of you.”
“She had dinosaurs,” he says.
“Yeah? What kind?”
“All kinds. Even a parasaurolophus.”
I smile. “That’s a good one.”
I buckle him into his car seat and close the door. Before I get in on the driver’s side, I check the parking lot again. Still nothing.
I’m paranoid. That woman was just making conversation. People do that. Normal people who aren’t running from their past.
I slide behind the wheel and start the car, letting the AC blast. I know Nikolai’s house is fully stocked with food, but I have money. I want to go grocery shopping. Irina keeps the kitchen like it’s a five-star restaurant, but I need to feel useful. Independent. Like I’m contributing something.
“We’re going to the store,” I tell Luke. “We’re going to pick out some special snacks for you.”
“Okay.”
The grocery store is blessedly cool and not too crowded for a weekday afternoon. I grab a cart and let Luke walk beside me.
We move through the aisles slowly. I grab ingredients for dinner even though I know Irina probably has something planned.
I just need this small piece of normalcy. This feeling of being a regular mom doing regular mom things.
Luke spots the dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets, and his eyes light up. “Can we get these?”
I always say no. But thanks to Nikolai, I have the money, because I didn’t have to pay rent or utilities.
“Sure, buddy.”
I add them to the cart. We continue through the store. I’m reaching for a carton of milk when I feel it again. That prickling sensation at the back of my neck.
Someone’s watching me.
I turn slowly, scanning the aisle. A man in a baseball cap is looking at the cereal. An older woman is comparing prices on oatmeal. Nobody’s looking at me.
I’m being paranoid again.
We finish shopping and head to the checkout. The cashier is friendly, commenting on Luke’s dinosaur shirt. He doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t hide behind me, either. Progress.
I load the bags into the trunk while Luke climbs into his seat. I close the trunk and walk around to the driver’s side. That’s when I see it.
A piece of paper tucked under the windshield wiper.
Every instinct in me goes on alert.
I look around the parking lot. Nobody’s watching.
I pull the paper out slowly. It’s a small white card. The kind you’d use for a business card.
Hope you’re having a nice day.
That’s it. Nothing else.
I scan the parking lot again. The cars around me. None of them have notes. Just mine.
It has to be one of those religious groups that come through sometimes, leaving little prayer cards. They’ve left them on my car before.
But my hands are shaking as I unlock the car and slide into the driver’s seat. A rose. Now, a card.
I start the car and pull out of the parking lot faster than I should. My eyes keep darting to the rearview mirror, checking to see if anyone’s following us.
Nobody is.
It’s nothing. Just a random note, one of those pay-it-forward things people do. But I can’t shake the feeling in my gut. Too many coincidences.
Greg’s voice echoes in my head. Trust your gut, Gabby.
And mine is screaming.
I drive toward Nikolai’s house. If someone is watching me, the only place I’m safe is behind those gates. Nikolai’s security. His guns. His promise that no one will touch me.
I glance in the rearview mirror again. Luke is looking out the window, unaware.
I have to protect him, no matter what. Even if that means telling Nikolai the truth about who I really am.
And what happens if he tells us to leave?