FRIDAY, OCTOBER 5
The night’s hand pressed Jaime as she huddled in her bed. She hadn’t wanted to come. Had begged to stay home. Promised she would stay out of her mother’s way.
She wasn’t home.
She was here.
In the place where shadows smothered her.
It felt like the time she’d jumped in a lake without her life jacket. She’d been pulled under, and no matter how she struggled and twisted, she couldn’t find the surface. She’d been so afraid. Then Daddy had come. He’d saved her. Tugged her back into the boat. She’d lain on her side and thrown up so much water.
Daddy wasn’t here to save her.
And the shadow knew.
The shadow would overwhelm her, and she was too weak to stay in the light.
The door creaked open.
She held her breath. Squeezed her eyes tight. Maybe if she prayed, the shadow would go away.
God, help me. She wanted to speak the words, but her throat had clamped shut. She could barely breathe. The words repeated in her head. Over and over. Like a sad song on repeat. The kind that would drive Mommy crazy.
Maybe if she clung to the prayer, she would be safe.
Jaime clutched her teddy bear. Thought her prayer. Again and again. Then the mattress heaved as the bed squeaked. The shadow was here. He was real . . .
Jaime launched up in bed, gasping for air. She looked frantically around the room, the light she always kept on next to her bed insufficient to push back the darkness of the night.
She heard feet padding toward her door.
God, help me. The panicked prayer rose from her thoughts even as she knew how fruitless it was. God hadn’t helped her when she was eight. He certainly wouldn’t bother now.
“Jaime?” Caroline’s voice edged through Jaime’s panic. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” The words escaped in a yell, and Jaime wished she could recall and quiet them.
“It doesn’t sound like you’re fine.” There was a pause. “Can I come in?”
“No.”
The doorknob twisted and the door creaked open. “I brought you a glass of water.”
“I don’t need a drink.”
“Let me come in, Jaime.”
Jaime wanted to argue but couldn’t. The sheets were wrapped around her feet like twisting barnacles. The diffuser had turned off and only the faintest scent of lavender hung in the air, so she must have slept for a while. Her gaze landed on the teddy bear next to her, and she batted it off the bed before turning back to the door, but Caroline had already stepped inside the room.
“Come on in, since you already are.”
“This isn’t the first night you’ve had a nightmare.” It wasn’t a question.
“I thought he was here.”
Who lingered between them, the unspoken name known to both.
“What can I do?”
“I want to forget, but my mind won’t let me. Can you help with that?”
“I can listen.”
The thought terrified Jaime because Caroline meant it. She would crawl into the pain with Jaime, and Jaime couldn’t let her. It was too dark there; a tarry substance would saturate Caroline’s light, overwhelming it until it was extinguished. Ruining another life . . . she couldn’t do that. “I’m fine.”
“You aren’t.” Caroline handed her the glass of water, then sank to the floor next to the bed, her gaze tethering Jaime to this moment. “You have a story. There are chapters to your life, and some of them are horrible, but they are all chapters. It’s up to you how much weight you give them and how long they last.”
“It’s not that simple.” Fatigue pressed against Jaime. Another night of disrupted sleep. “I don’t want to argue with you, Caroline.” She glanced at the clock on her nightstand. “It’s after three. If you want to get any sleep, you need to start counting sheep.”
Caroline frowned at her and crossed her arms. “Maybe this is why I’m here. To help you through confronting your uncle.”
“I don’t need help.” The idea made her want to spring from the bed and punch something harder than she’d flung her poor teddy bear.
“We all do. If I can be that for you, I’d count it a privilege.”
She didn’t want Caroline to know every sentence of her story. It was too gothic and tragic for Caroline’s Pollyanna view of the world. “Some chapters are too personal.”
“And some only lead to freedom when shared.”
Her friend’s words pierced Jaime.
That was exactly what Jaime had promised she’d never do. As she stared at her feet, tangled in layers of sheet and blanket, she heard a soft murmuring next to her. While she’d denied needing help, she couldn’t stop listening as Caroline prayed for her and her heart.
SATURDAY, OCTOBER 6
Morning dawned well before Jaime was ready. Her nightmare shadowed her waking and the start of her day. She had to find a way to remove Dane’s hold on her life. If the nightmares were already this disruptive, what would they be like after he was served with the charges from the Commonwealth’s Attorney? The clanking of cupboard doors opening and shutting filtered through the bedroom door. Jaime groaned and pulled a pillow over her head.
Then the shower started, and when it turned off fifteen minutes later, Jaime’s brain had switched on. She threw back the covers and pulled her robe from the foot of the bed. Good thing she’d placed it there last night, or she would have headed into her living area in her nightgown glory. Maybe she could pretend Caroline hadn’t seen it in the wee hours of the morning when she was huddled under her white comforter.
Caroline grinned at her, a towel wrapped around her head like a turban. “Good morning. If I were my grandma I’d add ‘Merry Sunshine,’ but I’m not.”
“That’s a good thing.” Jaime tried not to growl as she headed toward the Keurig parked on the countertop.
“I thought we could get coffee at Ebenezer’s before heading to church.”
Jaime froze with her hand curled around a pod of French roast. “I don’t go to church.” Besides, didn’t Caroline know it was Saturday?
“Maybe you could today. There’s a service project I think you’d enjoy. It’s for kids.” Caroline smiled sweetly at her. “I’ll throw in a scone or muffin. Your choice. I notice you don’t have much in the way of food.”
“I said, I don’t do church.” The hardness in her voice reflected the rock-hardness of her certainty. If this untouchable God wouldn’t be bothered when she’d been a child who needed His protection, then she wouldn’t bother with Him now. Not even if Caroline turned on the puppy dog eyes. “No.”
“Oh, fine. Then join me for coffee. I’ll still buy the scone.”
Maybe she could do that. “We’ll drive separately.”
“Or walk to the place around the corner.” Her eyes twinkled at Jaime in a disturbingly happy way. “I haven’t given up on you joining me at church, but it doesn’t need to be today.”
Jaime nudged Caroline’s shoulder. It was practically a hip check considering how petite her friend was next to her. “Don’t press your luck. But I desperately need that coffee.”
Fifteen minutes later she was sitting at a table in the hole-in-the-wall, artsy coffee shop around the corner, a steaming café latte spiked with peppermint syrup in front of her, next to a plate holding a decadent carrot cake muffin with cream cheese frosting. She’d need to log an hour on the stationary bike if she wanted to eat each luscious calorie without worrying about where it landed, but it would be worth it.
Caroline was talking animatedly about something, but Jaime’s attention kept drifting. The nightmare’s tentacles weren’t releasing. What would Uncle Dane do? She was sure he’d get a summons that didn’t require actual jail time—at least not yet. Even so, his reaction wouldn’t be good. But she had to move forward.
“You’re not listening to me,” Caroline pouted as she played with her maple scone.
“I am.”
“Really?” Her friend arched an eyebrow in that precise way of all truly Southern women. “Then tell me what I was saying.”
“How worried you are about your apartment.”
She huffed. “Good guess.”
Jaime laughed, then leaned back against the overstuffed chair. “You’re easy to read.”
“Here I thought it was that beautiful man that had your attention.”
“What?” Jaime startled and looked around. “I wasn’t looking at a guy.”
“Too bad, because he’s staring at you. If I were his girlfriend I’d be jealous.”
“Then he certainly wasn’t looking at me. That doesn’t happen.”
“Happens all the time, but you choose not to see.” Caroline shook her head. “Don’t look now, but he’s coming our way.”
Jaime froze as her gaze connected with her neighbor with the out-of-control dog. What was his name? Yeah, like she’d forget the name of a man who looked like a modern Steve Rogers. She found herself drawn into Chandler’s slightly questioning gaze.
“Don’t even pretend to tell me you don’t know him,” Caroline murmured.
“Let’s, um . . .” Jaime licked her suddenly dry lips and wished she could guzzle her coffee to knock the dryness from her parched throat. “Don’t be ridiculous, Caroline.”
“Whatever.” She all but rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue. So juvenile, and yet somehow so perfect.
Jaime tried to glance away from Chandler, but he had arrested her attention. Maybe she’d been too frustrated at their first encounter to notice the way he didn’t threaten her like most tall, powerful men with a military bearing. Instead, there was something friendly in the air as he ambled her way. Not good. She needed to take control from the start.
“Where’s your lion?” she snapped.
Confusion flashed across his face and tightened the skin around those perfect blue eyes. “You mean my dog? As I recall, you were the one with the wimpy lion.”
She shook her head as Caroline looked between them with her mouth hanging open. Jaime gave her friend a look. “You might want to be careful or you’ll catch flies.”
“Whatever.” Caroline smiled her dazzling perfect smile and extended her hand. “I’m Caroline Bragg. You are?”
“Chandler Bolton.” He shook her hand.
“It’s a pleasure.”
A barista called his name, but he lingered.
“You’d better get that before your coffee gets cold,” Jaime said.
He smiled at her. “How’s Simba? That’s his name, right?”
She wasn’t going to . . . She was too mature to roll her eyes . . . But oh, he brought that out in her. “Fine.”
Caroline stood. “I’ll grab the coffee while y’all spar.”
“You don’t need to do that.” Chandler’s words were quick, but Caroline was already off to the counter. Chandler watched her sashay away, then shook his head as he turned back to Jaime. “Is she always so—”
“Sassy?”
“I would have said spunky.”
“Yes.”
“Hmm.”
“Here’s your drink.” Caroline offered the to-go cup to him.
“Thanks.” Chandler took the cup and turned to Jaime. “See you around. I’ll try to keep Aslan from Simba. He’s taken a liking to that cat.”
The quirk at the corner of his mouth made Jaime wonder if he might feel the same.
As he walked toward the door, Caroline fanned herself with a napkin. “Whoo. You didn’t tell me there was a man in your life.”
“He is not ‘in my life.’ We’ve spent exactly ten minutes together—and they weren’t ten good minutes.”
“Well, I’d try another ten. That man is into you.”
As he exited the building without a backward glance, Jaime told herself Caroline was wrong. But as she watched, Chandler stopped to dig out his keys and looked in her direction. Their gazes collided through the window, and she felt a jolt. Maybe her friend wasn’t as crazy as Jaime wanted to believe.