He was going to figure it out. He knew what businesses the Stand owned and operated. He knew the address.
So she didn’t give him time. Getting out, she hurried around to meet him and approached the outer door to the shelter. She’d sent Lila a text before they’d left Brett’s house.
Someone should be waiting for them inside.
He stopped just short of the door. “Wait. What is this place?” A look of horror crossed his face. “What are we doing here?”
He was too quick for her.
“Brett?” Her voice was calm. “You promised.”
He looked at her. At the door. He knew.
“Please? Just come inside with me.”
He stopped cold. But didn’t run away. “No one knows who you are.” She was giving him that. Taking his hand, she opened the door and pulled him in behind her.
The group that waited for them took even Ella’s breath away. Everyone she’d ever met at the Stand was there. All crammed into the public vestibule. They wore welcoming smiles.
Not one of them, not even Lila, who she didn’t immediately see in the crowd, knew what she and Brett knew.
They were there to give support to a victim. None of them knew they were meeting their founder.
* * *
SEARCHING FOR LILA, needing the other woman to smooth her way, Ella led Brett to the group of people. The managing director always hung back; she knew that.
“Hi. I’m Maddie Bishop.” The slim, young blonde stepped forward, her speech slurred but still discernible. “I live here, and I’m married and have a baby, who I take very good care of.”
“Good, Maddie.” Lynn Bishop, still in her scrubs, stepped forward. “Welcome,” she said. “Lila was unfortunately just called to an emergency, so I’m in charge. This is highly unusual, actually a first, but Ella asked to have some support out here for you, so here we are. I’m Lynn Bishop, and you just met Maddie, whose biggest challenge is to talk to men without fear.”
Others followed suit. Introducing themselves. Telling Brett and Ella just a little bit about their reasons for being at the Stand. Lila had come through in a huge way. She’d understood what Ella had needed—for Brett to see that there was a world where victims lived and thrived and learned to do much more than merely survive.
Not just to know it, but to experience it. To feel it.
As Chloe had done. And Nora and so many women and children before them.
Nora introduced herself. She looked better, less vacant, but still far too thin. Ella told her so, asking about Henry as Nora gave her a hug. The baby was in the nursery being watched over by a grandmotherly resident who hadn’t wanted to come out front.
One by one, people came up to them. Brett greeted each one of them with detached politeness. He was friendly. Charming. But gave no indication that he recognized any of the names he was hearing.
She knew he had to recognize them. Additionally, he knew far more about these people than they were telling him.
It was also clear that none of them had a clue as to who he was. There was no reason why they should. Ella had kept his secret. But he’d had to trust her on that one.
Her heart was in her throat, but Brett didn’t appear to be feeling anything at all as he took in the scene around him as though from a distance.
Scared all over again, Ella wondered if she’d done too much too soon. Exposing him to an overload of emotion when he’d allowed none for so long. He was locking himself away again. She could feel him drifting...
But an overload of emotion was what it was going to take to show him he wasn’t going to suddenly sprout horns because he allowed himself to feel.
And what better place than The Lemonade Stand to take his chance? She felt sick. Her knees were shaking, and she looked for a place to sit down.
And then Sara Havens was there. “This is Sara, Brett,” Ella said, ready to split apart at the seams. “I’ve spent the past couple months getting to know her. Sara, this is my...ex-husband.”
She’d brought him there to out him. To force him to face himself, for his sake, and hers, too, and for the sake of the child she carried.
But mostly because her heart wouldn’t let her leave Brett—even during all of the years they’d spent apart.