My Kind of Perfect (Finding Love 3)

When I get home, I stumble through the door. Robotically, I shower, and once I’m dressed, having no idea where to go from here, I end up in Hazel’s room, sitting in her rocking chair and holding her stuffed animal.

I bring it to my nose, inhaling her scent, and then I fucking lose it. In a blink of an eye, I’ve lost my entire world.

Georgia

I can’t stop crying. The tears won’t stop falling. My body hurts so damn badly. But my heart… my heart has been destroyed. It’s all my fault. I wanted to believe the good in her, and in the end, my naivety got Hazel killed. I should’ve listened to Chase. But I was so hell-bent on wanting to do the right thing, be a good person. I wanted Victoria to have the chance Lexi’s mom never got. I didn’t want Hazel to one day have to be told that we refused to let her mom see her.

And because of all that, she’s dead. She died in a fire by herself. She was probably scared, calling out for us, and I failed her.

“Georgia, I know you’re hurting, but you have to calm down,” Mom says. “The doctor is going to admit you.”

“I’m trying,” I cry out, hiccuping through my sobs. “It just… hurts. I never meant for this to happen and now she’s gone.” I clutch my hands to my chest, wishing for God to take me instead of her.

“I know, sweetheart,” Mom coos. “I know.” She runs her fingers through my hair, but it does nothing to soothe me. Chase was right. This is all my fault. And nothing I do will make it right. We lost the most precious little girl today because of me.

A couple hours later, the doctor discharges me and I go to the police station to make my statement to get it over with. I can barely hold it together when I recount what happened. They inform me what Chase has already told me, that Victoria died from a drug overdose. As of now, Hazel’s body hasn’t been found, and until forensics can get in there and investigate, it will remain an open case.

Not wanting to go home and upset Chase further, I instead go to my parents’ place. Exhausted and heartbroken, I lie in my childhood bed and, with the help of the prescription the doctor gave me, I fall into a fitful slumber, wishing when I wake up this all will be a horrible nightmare.

Chase

Knock, knock, knock.

I wake up to the sound of someone banging on the door. I glance around, finding myself sitting in the rocking chair in Hazel’s room and everything from yesterday hits me all over again.

Victoria beating up Georgia and stealing Hazel.

Victoria overdosing.

The apartment catching fire.

Hazel dying in the fire.

I consider closing my eyes, not wanting to deal with my new reality, one where I have to somehow move forward without my daughter in my life, but whoever is knocking on the door won’t stop. I rise to my feet and drag myself to the front door.

When I open it, standing in front of me are two police officers. I know both of them from working as a firefighter. Have been on calls with them several times. “We were given your number from Alec at the station. We tried to call you.”

“My phone is broken.”

He nods. “We have someone that belongs to you.” He steps to the side, exposing the other officer, who’s holding my world in his arms.

My heart clenches in my chest, and for a second I wonder if I’m going to have a heart attack. It’s actually difficult to take in oxygen.

Please don’t let this be a dream. It would be the cruelest of cruel dreams.

“Dada!” Hazel squeals, and I release a harsh breath. Her voice, the best sound in the world. A sound I didn’t think I would ever hear again.

She wriggles in the officer’s arms, reaching out for me to grab her. She’s dressed in an overall dress with a pink and white striped shirt underneath. On her feet are pink striped socks and one shoe.

One fucking shoe.

Grabbing her from the officer, I pull her tight into my arms, burying my face in her neck. She shrieks in delight and the sound damn near brings me to my knees.

“She’s alive,” I breathe through a choked sob. “You’re alive.”

“She was turned in this morning. A gentleman by the name of Raymond Forrester said he showed up at Victoria Burke’s home yesterday to speak with her. He walked in on her doing drugs and barely awake, so he took the child. When he returned this morning and found the building was burned down, he brought her to the station.”

I close my eyes, tightening my hold on my daughter. “Please thank him for me,” I choke out. Had he not taken her, she might not still be alive.