Pocketful of Sand

I eat him up as I look at him. Just seeing him is like a cool compress to a fevered brow. In the back of my mind, I wonder if I’ll compare every man for the rest of my life to this one. To this one handsome, amazing man who walked away with my heart. And then crushed it with his lies.

I feel sadness creep into my chest and tug at my chin. I make my excuses and turn away before either man can see it tremble. “It’s almost Emmy’s turn,” I mutter by way of explanation.

I hurry away, not looking back. No matter how much I want to.

I haven’t seen Cole since the night he snuck into my room and poured out his heart beside my bed. Although I’ll never forget that night, his words and the emotion I could feel pouring off him, it doesn’t change anything. He’s married. So I dare not look back at him. It makes it a thousand times harder to hold onto my resolve when I can see his gorgeous face, when I can read his beautiful eyes.

I stand near the front of the line and I focus on my daughter. She looks so grown up, standing in line holding her list between her tiny hands. Outwardly, she looks like a normal, healthy little girl. Eyes can’t see the scars she bears. I just hope one day they’ll be so faded that she won’t know they’re there either.

Jordan makes me jump when she appears at my side and throws an arm over my shoulders, but thankfully she’s the only person who approaches me. I don’t look back toward either man. By the time Emmy takes her turn on Santa’s lap and we turn to leave afterward, both of them have disappeared.

I know before we even push through the doors that tonight will be particularly rough for me.

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A frown knits my brow when we pull into the driveway and I see a black SUV parked there. My first thought is of Brooke and dread pools in my stomach like acid. I get Emmy out, intending to ignore Brooke Danzer as we pass, but I notice that the vehicle is empty.

That’s odd, I note.

I wonder briefly if she got confused and thought she was at the house Cole’s working on. But if that’s the case, where is she? Did she just walk over there?

I unlock the door to our cottage and push it open to let Emmy inside. I step back out to the end of the porch and glance across the street to see if there are lights on. There aren’t. I move to follow my daughter inside. Before I can continue to wonder about what the hell Brooke is doing, I hear a voice that makes my blood run cold.

“Hey there, darlin’. It’s been a long time.”

My heart jumps up into my throat when I see Ryan. He’s squatting down at the edge of the living room, holding Emmy between his knees. Her face is pale as a ghost and her eyes are big and terrified.

“Momma,” she whispers in fright.

My throat closes. Oh God, that sound! To hear the fear in her little voice. The tremble. The plea.

“I’m right here, baby. Why don’t you come sit with me on the couch?”

She starts to move, but Ryan stops her. That’s when her eyes start to water. She’s a smart girl. She knows this isn’t good.

“Not so fast, little one. Let’s talk for a few minutes. I haven’t seen you in two years. You’ve grown. You’re such a beautiful girl now,” he says, stroking her hair, letting his hand linger a little too long on her back and butt as he continues his touch down her body to then drop away.

“Ryan, let Emmy go to her room. You and I can talk out here.”

I don’t want to attack him and risk hurting Emmy. And I don’t want to say anything that might scare her even further. I’m doing my best to keep my tone and my expression as calm as possible, despite the panic that I can feel clawing at my insides. Panic and rage. The only thing that’s keeping me sane right now is the knowledge that whatever I do and say could worsen Emmy’s condition. She’s been hurt enough. I don’t want her to have to live with the vision of her mother killing a man right in front of her. Or maybe watch her mother die if that man gets the better of her.

That’s why I have to stay calm. For Emmy. For my sweet, precious daughter.

“She looks just like you,” he says, leaning around so he can see Emmy’s face. She stands perfectly still, her eyes fixed on mine. I smile at her, hoping to soothe her.

“Yes, she does. Emmy, you go play in your room. Shut the door and don’t come out until I come get you, okay?”

Please God, make him let her go. Please make him let her go.

I glance from Emmy to Ryan. I hold his darkly familiar gaze. “Uncle Ryan and I are going to talk for a while. All alone.” I emphasize the last, hoping he knows what that means. If I have to pretend to go along with another rape to get my daughter out of this room, I will. I’d do anything, say anything, withstand anything to keep her safe and unharmed.

Ryan watches me, his eyes narrowing on me then scanning me from head to toe. The slow trip they make back up my body, stopping between my legs and at my chest, makes my skin crawl. It doesn’t matter that he’s handsome, that he could have practically any woman he wants. He’s nothing but a sick degenerate on the inside. A man who rapes children. There is no worse predator in my opinion, no more grotesque offense.

Finally, one side of his mouth pulls up into a leer. “Yes, why don’t you run along, little Emmy? Momma and I have a lot to talk about. We’ve got some catching up to do.”

When he stands, he rubs his crotch. My stomach turns.

My eyes fall to Emmy. “Don’t come out, baby. No matter what you hear, don’t come out until I come and get you.”