Kim
At her parents’ that Thursday morning, Kim couldn’t help but think of the last time she’d woken up in her old room. It’d been the dawn after her first kiss with Scott, just over three weeks ago. It was a cruel memory, because she now felt as miserable as she’d felt blissful that other morning—the opposite emotion in every way, complete with the depletion and heart-crushing dread that she might never kiss Scott Culpepper again.
She missed him, his arms and deep voice and the way he’d made her feel protected at the times she’d been the most scared in her life. He was so close to her—a stone’s throw away—yet the impasse between them seemed insurmountable. He didn’t want her as she was. It’d been true all along; they’d just pretended otherwise.
Yet she had to find a way to move forward. Even with the gut-punch of pain she felt, what had happened with Lily yesterday and the positive pregnancy test had shifted her focus. She had relationships to rebuild and ties to break, and she still had a job at Hot Haven with a shift that very afternoon. Along the way, maybe she’d figure out the words to tell Scott that she was pregnant, that the baby was his, that she was having it—and that he could be involved or not, but if he was, he needed to accept her fully this time.
Early in the morning, her mother drove her back to her apartment to get her car. On the ride, Diane Xavier was in both mama bear and planner mode, a lethal combination.
“You need to make an appointment with a good obstetrician right away,” she said as she drove down the shady, tree-lined streets. “Also, we should think about where to register for baby gifts. Of course you’ll need to find out the sex, so we can pick a theme for the nursery.” She looked over at her daughter. “Why aren’t you eating your hard-boiled egg? It has omega-3 in it.”
Between the sheer number of details she didn’t want to think about in her exhaustion, her mother’s ever-exuberant micromanaging, and the thought of possibly doing this without Scott, Kim almost groaned. But instead she leaned back against the head rest and closed her eyes. It was comforting, in a way. Her mother would always be her mother, but she would be there. Even if things didn’t turn out the way she’d planned, her family would be a soft place to land. They always had been, even when she pushed them away.
At her apartment, she sent her mother away to research doctors and recommended diets and got in her car.
She didn’t have a scheduled appointment with Dr. Park until next week, but the thing she had to do couldn’t wait. The past two weeks she hadn’t seen him much as it was. Last week, the shock of learning Viktor had been her stalker made her beg off their Wednesday meeting, and he’d cancelled yesterday’s session, citing a personal matter that he unexpectedly had to attend to.
The shopping center was deserted this early, only a few cars dotting the lot. It was still cool enough that Kim shivered when a cool breeze passed over her skin as she walked to his small office. Most of the stores hadn’t opened, but Dr. Park started seeing clients promptly at eight o’clock.
It was ten minutes before.
The few chairs in Dr. Park’s waiting room were empty, and he had his office door open again.
“Kim!” He stood up from his chair and smoothed down his shirt. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Yeah, sorry.” She attempted a smile. “Good morning.”
“Uh, good morning.” He cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I have another client in a few minutes. Do you have a—is this a—”
She crossed the threshold of his private office, but stayed standing. “This will just take a minute.”
He nodded, still looking unsure. “Okay.”
She took a deep breath. “We need to break up.”
“What?”
“It’s not you, it’s just…” She gestured between them. “I don’t think this is working anymore. You’ve been a huge help to me during recovery, helping me to recognize my triggers and be more aware of how I’m feeling. I can’t thank you enough for that. But I need a counselor who I can tell when I’ve banged an on-duty officer in his patrol car after he almost tried to arrest me.”
Dr. Park’s eyebrows shot up.
“I’m sorry,” she continued. “I’ve just been realizing how important it is to be able to share everything, and I haven’t been fully open with you in the way I need to be. I haven’t had any big insights in months. Yesterday, a four-year-old girl pretty much did your job for you.” She played with her fingers. “Anyway, I hope you’re not pissed.”
At that, he sat down heavily in his chair. “Kim, no, I’m not angry. I suspected you weren’t being completely open with what was going on, but I didn’t want to press until you were ready.” He moved some papers on his desk. “I’ve got to say, you surprised me, but I think this is a positive step.”
“You do?”
“Yes.” Dr. Park smiled. “Though it’s never pleasant to hear one is bested by a small child. But you’re learning what you need in a relationship—what you deserve as a person. Finding a good fit between psychologist and client can be a challenge. But I think it’s healthy to seek what you have every right to, a psychologist whom can be truly open with and can give you what you need.” He shifted in his chair. “If it’s all the same to you, though, I’m going to forget what you said about the officer and the patrol car, both professionally and as a citizen of this county.”
She smiled. “Thanks.”
Behind her, a whoosh signaled someone had opened the door. Dr. Park’s next client.
“Well, thanks,” Kim said, starting to turn on her heel—but then she froze.
Taylor Stiles was standing in the waiting room like a deer caught in the headlights—or a pretentious, self-conscious suburban mom without a proper manicure.
“K-Kim,” she stuttered. “I was just—”
Kim tilted her head. “Going shopping?”
Sure enough, Taylor had a shopping bag slung over her shoulder—just as she had when Kim had run into her at the center a few weeks back. But none of the shops were open. It was a cover.
Taylor had been seeing Dr. Park too.
As Kim looked at Taylor’s terrified face, she thought of all the things she could say to her. That she was sorry for stealing her prom date. That she hated the snide comments Taylor always made when they ran into each other. That she was going to have a kid after all, and wasn’t that weird, and she probably wouldn’t be perfect at it, but then again neither was Taylor. That Taylor shouldn’t have to pretend like she didn’t need help too, because Kim got it and didn’t judge her for it. That she really wanted that cupcake recipe from the tea party, because she felt like she could eat a whole dozen right now.
Instead, she walked up to her old classmate, put her hand on her upper arm, and squeezed gently. “Good for you,” she said, and walked out the door.
In her car, she sighed and leaned back in the seat. Though she was still sad, some of the heaviness on her heart was becoming lighter. Taylor Stiles couldn’t hold the past over her anymore. She’d felt closer to her family that morning than she’d had in months. Now she’d broken up with Dr. Park, and soon she’d find another psychologist to help her through this dark patch without Scott.
There was something else she needed to say goodbye to. She pulled the thick list of pages out of her purse, the ones with all those women’s names. Between Destani and herself, they’d contacted fourteen women, warning them and convincing a few that hadn’t already to go to the cops. She didn’t regret it—she felt for those women so keenly it made her chest ache—but what Scott and her mother and sister had said was right. It was dangerous, especially with Viktor out there and the real person behind the harassment unknown. It was partly the baby, but she also had less of a desire to physically risk herself the way she had.
She had to hope her conversations with those women had made a difference, helped the police get closer to catching the asshole who did it.
She went through that list of names and read each one. It’d been too overwhelming before, but now it would be something like closure.
Starting at the front this time, she flipped through the pages. Elle Smith, Deidre Laughlin, Trina Simmons…She read each name and sent up a little wish that each would find justice and reclaim a sense of safety again, and maybe find someone to be with who didn’t consider their bodies, reputations, and privacy to be weapons in the war of love.
She flipped through the pages—but then a single name stopped her like a slap to the face.
Kim’s blood ran cold. There, on the middle of page six, was a familiar name.
Savannah Davidson.
Her eyes scanned the information below to confirm it was her manager’s girlfriend, and sure enough it was.
Kim dropped the list and whipped out her phone.
She had Savannah’s number in her cell from earlier that winter, when the brunette had suggested she and Kim see a movie sometime. They’d never gone, but now Kim was grateful for the impulse.
Savannah picked up on the third ring.
“Hey, it’s Kim from Hot Haven,” she said. “Can you meet me somewhere right away? It’s important.”