TWENTY-THREE
Amanda drove home, her foot heavy on the gas. Tomorrow she and Trent would start looking into Chloe’s haters on Snap VidPic. Tonight, she was all Zoe’s. And this Saturday, she planned to take her to the aquarium in Washington.
The sky was dark as she reached Dumfries. Thunder rumbled in the distance and lightning streaked across the sky. Zoe was terrified of storms, and for good reason. The night her parents were murdered, she’d been in their bed due to a thunderstorm.
Amanda hit the pedal a little harder and was pulling into her driveway at five forty-five. The front light was on, thanks to Libby’s foresight. Amanda rushed from the car to the door as the sky opened. The rain pounded the pavement and bounced, splashing up to her knees.
By the time she burst through the door, she was soaking wet. For a moment, she envied dogs and how they could simply shake the extra moisture away.
“Oh my, look at you.” Libby came hustling over with a towel extended.
“Thank you.” Amanda wiped herself down and slipped out of her shoes. A puddle spilled out around them on the tile floor. She hung her jacket on the coat rack and looked into the living room that was off to the left of the entry. The couch cushions were askew, like they’d been tossed, and the throw pillows were on the floor. “Where’s Zoe?”
“In her room.”
Amanda raced down the hallway. Zoe’s bedroom door was shut, and Amanda knocked. “Zoe, sweetie, I’m home.” She waited, trying to afford the girl opportunity to respond and invite her in, but there was nothing but silence. “Zoe, I’m coming in, okay?”
Quiet except for some rumbling thunder that was getting closer.
Amanda slowly turned the handle and entered the room. The comforter had been yanked from the bed and sat in a pile on the floor. Even the bedsheets had been tugged off. Her pillow was across the room. The stuffed doll collection she’d brought from her family home had been knocked off the bookshelf.
All signs of a tantrum.
“Zoe?” She could barely get her name out. Just seeing the room in this state, imagining what the poor child was going through, wrenched her heart. “You’re safe, honey.”
The sound of sniffling.
It got louder as Amanda approached the closet. The bifold doors were shut. She slowly opened them and announced what she was doing so as not to startle her. Zoe was huddled against the wall with Lucky hugged tight to her chest.
A clap of loud thunder shook the house.
Zoe screamed out, and tears snaked down her cheeks. Amanda dropped to her knees next to Zoe and scooped her into her arms. Zoe slapped at her.
“No. Go away! You’re not my mom!”
The reaction might as well have been a knife to Amanda’s heart. The burning sensation coursed through her, setting her on fire. “Sweetheart,” she cooed softly.
“No. Go!” Zoe yelled at the top of her lungs.
All Amanda wanted to do was pull the girl to her, protect her, and heal her hurts, but Zoe needed to process these emotions for herself. Amanda would have to settle for being next to her for support. Amanda moved back from the closet, giving Zoe some space, and the girl looked at her. Zoe’s blue eyes were even more piercing when wet, like they were electric and carried a current.
“I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.” Amanda settled with her legs crossed, sitting with her back against the edge of the bed frame.
Zoe shot daggers at her but remained silent.
More cracks of thunder had Zoe jumping. It took all of Amanda’s willpower and respect for Zoe’s wishes not to reach out to her.
“Do you know what causes thunder?” Amanda tossed the question out like she was making casual conversation—a feat, considering her heart was thumping.
Zoe didn’t respond, though Amanda hadn’t expected she would.
“It’s caused by lightning, when the sky lights up. That’s basically an electric charge. A lot of energy. The lightning heats the air, and it explodes, which creates the sound we hear as thunder.”
“An explosion?” Zoe shuffled farther into the corner.
Amanda tried to think of another way to put it and then remembered how she’d framed it for Lindsey. “You ever rub a balloon on your head?”
“No.”
All right, there’s something we need to add to the to-do list. “Well, if you do that, the contact between your hair and the balloon creates static energy. It makes your hair stand on end, but it’s nothing that can hurt you. Just like thunder.”
“Thunder can’t hurt me?”
“No, sweetie.” Zoe would have lots of time to learn that a person could get struck by lightning, however.
“But it hurt Mommy and Daddy.” Tears spilled down her cheeks.
Amanda considered her words and, when she spoke, did so gently. “It wasn’t the thunder, honey. It was a bad man. But you don’t need to worry about him anymore.”
“Why?” She pulled the stuffed dog closer to herself, inching it up and tucking it under her chin.
Amanda had told Zoe many times about the fate of the man who’d killed her parents, but she told her once more and repeated, “You don’t need to worry about him anymore.”
Zoe didn’t respond.
“Do you trust me, Zoe?” Amanda eventually asked.
A small nod and eye contact.
“Then believe me. You’re safe.” Amanda almost added the girl was safe as long as she was with her, but that wouldn’t be the right thing to say. Zoe could become dependent on her, and what if Colin Brewster was Zoe’s biological father and took her away? The possibility jabbed her with pain.
The thunder continued to shake the house, but Zoe began inching her way out of the closet toward Amanda. There was a loud boom,and she closed the space between them in one lunge forward.
Amanda caught Zoe in her arms and held her tight. She swept her blond hair from her forehead and tapped a kiss there.
The two of them stayed in the embrace until Zoe had enough. And while the storm still circled, Zoe claimed her independent space.
“I’ll clean up my mess,” she said, standing up and heading toward the bed.
Amanda got to her feet. “I’ll help you, but first… do you want pizza?”
Zoe’s face lit then shadowed. “Before I clean up?”
Amanda hesitated, deciding how to respond. Zoe’s parents had run a meticulous household where all the beds were made in the morning. Amanda could imagine if Zoe had caused this same mess when her parents were alive, they’d have requested she clean it up before dinner. But Amanda didn’t run that tight of a ship. She appreciated that life could be messy. In fact, it was a little more fun that way. “After dinner,” she affirmed and held out her hand to Zoe.