Jasmine turned her face towards the bright sun, soaking in its warmth.
“Now bend forward and hug your legs.” Mia guided the small group of ladies through the yoga poses.
Jasmine tried to empty her mind and focus on her breathing. The sound of the waves rushing on the beach helped. She needed this time to herself. To connect to her body rather than living in her head.
“That’s it. Now move to your knees and get into Child’s Pose. Tuck yourself together.” Mia’s soothing voice melded with the wind and waves and distant caw of seagulls.
Jasmine relaxed into the pose. Inhale. Exhale. In with light. Out with stress.
Mia directed them into a few more stretching positions before the final resting pose, Savasana. Jasmine’s body relaxed onto the mat. Her eyes closed as she deepened her breaths. Sunlight kissed her exposed skin, color bursting behind her eyelids.
“How did that feel?” Mia asked.
“I’m ready for a nap now,” Remy joked.
Jasmine opened her eyes and eased up to sitting.
“You’re always ready for sleep,” Belle teased.
Remy chuckled. “That’s because I have two very active children at home.”
The girls laughed together.
“So, Jaz, how goes it at the inn?” Remy asked, playing with one of her long braids.
Jasmine stood, picking up her mat and shaking the sand off. “Great. Everything is just fantastic.” Everything at the inn was okay. It was her life that was falling apart at the seams while she barely held on.
Remy glanced at Mia, sharing some sort of unspoken message. Jasmine rolled up her mat as the other ladies joined her.
“I heard from Betty Lou, you and Z went to get ice cream last night,” Belle pressed.
“Does no one in this small town have anything better to do than gossip about who I am seen with?” Jasmine snapped.
“Whoa. Down, girl,” Remy said, holding up her hand.
“We love you, Jasmine. We care about you. But we know you like to keep things to yourself.” Mia stepped forward, offering a kind smile.
“You and your brother have that in common,” Belle joked.
“Both brothers. Must be a family trait.” Remy smiled.
A pang of hurt sliced through her chest. Because we had to.
“We just want you to know that it’s okay to talk to us. We’re here for you. No matter what.” Mia pulled her into a hug.
Jasmine relaxed into her friend’s embrace. “I know you are.”
But I’m done being a burden.
Mia smiled as she released her. “Alright, well. I’d better get to the studio for my next class. See you guys soon.” She picked up her mat and waved.
“Me too. My mother has the baby so I can run some errands before I head into the bakery.” Remy gave Jasmine a quick hug before she followed her sister-in-law.
Belle hung back until the other two had disappeared around the front of the inn. “Can we talk?”
Jasmine glanced at her phone clock. She still had two rooms to freshen up and prepare for the next guests. “I have a few minutes.”
Belle took a deep breath before meeting her gaze. “You know I work as a sexual assault nurse examiner at the hospital.”
Jasmine shifted uneasily, eyes darting out to the ocean. Let’s talk about literally anything else. “Of course.”
“But I’ve never shared with you why I chose that line of work,” Belle said.
Jasmine wiped some sand off her mat.
“It’s one way I can take my power back.” Belle’s gaze burned the side of Jasmine’s face, but she didn’t look up.
Her body flushed with heat as her heart thundered. The instinct to run grated on her nerves, her feet shifting, preparing to flee. “Okay.”
Belle sighed. “I’ve been where you are. You must know that’s why I’m at the meetings with you. If you ever want to talk to someone who really gets it, I’m here. Night or day.”
Did Bently tell her the details? Would he betray my deepest, darkest secret? She trusted Belle, but still. She cringed. If they knew all the horrors she’d kept from them . . . they’d see how ruined she was.
She forced a smile, though her insides quaked. Pretending was a skill she’d honed since she was a child. Her survival depended on it. “I appreciate the offer. Truly, I am doing great. The inn is filling up. Zoey is healthy and happy. And I’m figuring out this thing with Atlas on my own.” I’m capable.
Belle nodded, the corners of her mouth curving upwards for a moment. She probably didn’t believe Jasmine, but at least she should drop it now.
“I’d better get going. I promised a certain sheriff I’d bring him his salad for lunch.” Belle’s eyes lit up when she spoke about Bently. If anyone deserved a happy ending, it was those two after the hell they’d been through. But happy endings were not realistic for everyone.
“Tell him I said he should get some of Betty Lou’s mozzarella sticks once in a while.” Jasmine laughed before heading over to the back porch.
Belle chuckled and waved, disappearing around the side of the inn. Jasmine’s smile faded as she set her mat against the edge of the porch. She wiped her shaky hands over her face. Her heart still raced.
“Rooms. Go clean the rooms,” she instructed herself, pulling up the to-do list in her mind of tasks she needed to accomplish for the day. She had to keep busy or her thoughts would go there. Back to the horrors she kept inside. Back to the memories. Back to her deepest shame.
Three hours later, both guest rooms were cleaned. She nodded along to upbeat pop music from the radio as she dipped the roller in fresh paint. The fumes of chemicals weren’t as strong with the windows open, but she’d still need to keep Zoey out of here for the next couple of days. She turned, admiring the large room. Someday it would be a great personal living space for her and Zoey. She picked up the paint roller and slid it over the wall as she shook her hips to the beat, getting lost in the music.
Soon, the first coat was finished. She closed the cover on the bucket of paint and hammered it shut. Sweat trickled down her neck. Wiping her hands on her old shorts, she moved to the window, needing a gust of fresh air. A tall figure walking down the path to the beach caught her attention. Atlas. His hand dropped, holding a phone as he looked towards the sky. His head fell as his shoulders bunched and then drooped. What was bothering him? He ran a hand through his dark hair, turning his face towards the sea. His profile highlighted the sharp edges and square cut of his jaw—tragically beautiful.
Maybe I’m projecting. Atlas probably knew nothing of the pain she’d endured. All the more reason to keep her distance. Men like him deserved someone whole. Someone who could have a relationship. And that wasn’t Jasmine.
“Jaz?”
Lincoln’s voice made her jump.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.” Link chuckled.
She waved her hand. “Not hard to do.”
“I brought your car back.”
She swallowed. How much is it going to cost me this time? “Great.”
He gestured to the door. She exited first, and he followed as they made their way to the driveway.
“I got it running again, but I can’t promise how long it will last. I think this might be the final time. I can’t in good conscience have you and that little girl driving around in this hunk of junk.” Link held out the silver key chain to her, his rich brown skin contrasting against the metal. “I got a call out to a buddy. Waiting to hear back about a vehicle. We can work on a payment plan and get you in something safer.”
Jasmine’s stomach dropped as she took the keys from him. She couldn’t afford the cost of even the lowest of payment plans. There wasn’t even twenty dollars to spare right now. “I don’t know, but I’ll keep it in mind. How much for the repairs?”
He sighed, hands in his pockets, looking between the car and her. “Bently already covered it.”
She clenched her fists. Heat radiated in her chest as anger spiked. “Why? This isn’t his car. I’ll pay you. Give him back his money.”
Link shrugged as if it was no big deal. “Already got paid. If you want to, pay him back.”
“How much, Link?” She gritted her teeth.
“A hundred bucks.” He looked off to the side.
Doubt it. “Towing costs seventy-five alone.”
“Yeah, but you get the family-and-friends discount.”
She should be thankful—and she was. But knowing she owed someone else something was too heavy. She didn’t need special treatment or kid gloves. This was the life she had chosen and no one but her should deal with the burden.
“Send me the receipt and I’ll pay him back,” Jasmine said. “And thanks for helping me.”
Link nodded. “Take care.”
“Oh, I almost forgot. Emma said to tell you hello.”
His eyes narrowed before he nodded. “Have a good afternoon.”
“You too.” Jasmine waved as he got in his tow truck and drove off.
Jasmine showered the grime and most of the paint from her body. A few flecks of light yellow clung to her hands and arms. She pulled out one of the two dresses she owned and smoothed it over her body. She would do her best to look like a respectable mother. The emerald-green sundress flared a little as she spun around. It was a little wrinkled, but it would have to do. Hopefully no one would notice the small black stain on the hem.
She slipped on a pair of flip-flops and grabbed her purse before heading downstairs. In the kitchen, she grabbed a juice box and bag of crackers to tide Zoey over, stuffing them into her bag before heading out to her car.
The drive to the preschool was short. She dug in her purse and pulled out a ChapStick that was who knows how old. Rolling it on her lips, she took a deep breath. Speaking up and creating waves was not her strong suit. It drew too much attention. But for Zoey, she’d do whatever she had to.
Jasmine took a deep breath and climbed out of her car, shoving her weight against the door until it creaked shut. She righted her purse and headed inside. She was buzzed into the main lobby. Turning right, she entered the office.
“Good afternoon,” she greeted the receptionist with a smile.
The woman seated at the desk gave her a scowl. Just her luck. Abby Tims—no, Abby Peters now. The woman who’d made her life a living hell all through high school. Teenager Jasmine’s payback had been to fuck Abby’s boyfriend, Jimmy, behind her back. The ultimate fuck you. Now Abby was married to him. A tinge of shame crept over Jasmine like a dark cloud. That was the old me.
“What do you want?” Abby snapped.
Jasmine swallowed hard and pressed on. “I need to talk with Miss Stevens if she’s available for a few minutes.”
“What about?” Abby turned her nose up.
“That’s between Miss Stevens and me,” Jasmine replied.
Abby huffed. “Fine. Wait over there.” She nodded to the empty wooden bench.
Jasmine took a seat, looking around the small room. The walls were filled with shelves of craft supplies and artworks in progress.
“Mrs. Evans?” Zoey’s teacher called a few minutes later.
“It’s still miss, isn’t it, Jizzy?” Abby said, throwing the old moniker at her like a slap.
Anger roiled inside her. But she tamped it down. Zoey was the reason she was here. “Yes, it is.”
“Oh, sorry. Miss Evans. What can I help you with?” Miss Stevens asked.
Jasmine looked between Abby and the teacher. “Is there somewhere private we can talk?”
“Of course. We can use the teachers’ lounge. Right this way.”
Jasmine followed her into a room with a couple of folding tables and metal chairs. A microwave and dated refrigerator sat in one corner next to a coffee pot.
“I only have a couple minutes before the kids line up to go home,” Miss Stevens said, taking a seat.
Jasmine took the one across from her. “I’ll get right to the point, then. Zoey came home yesterday and told me one of her classmates kissed her.”
Miss Stevens smiled and nodded. “Oh yes. The kids were having a bit of fun.”
“Zoey didn’t want to be kissed.”
The teacher waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, it was just on her cheek. I promise there was nothing nefarious going on. Boys will be boys.” She laughed.
Jasmine’s nails dug into her palms. Boys will be boys. Over her fucking dead body. “Zoey said she did not consent. He never asked.”
The woman crossed her arms, sitting forward. “Zoey laughed, so she must have enjoyed it.”
Something snapped inside Jasmine. She rose to her feet, her chest heaving, body trembling. “Maybe I need to find another school for my daughter. One that teaches consent. One that doesn’t perpetuate rape culture like boys will be boys.” Jasmine scoffed.
Miss Stevens rose to her feet, face flushed. “Now, Miss Evans. I don’t see how you can say such a thing. These are kids we’re talking about. There’s no need to make an accusation like that.”
“Today, it’s a kiss on the cheek. But what about tomorrow? If no one tells this little boy he must ask before he touches someone else, that even when someone laughs nervously, it must mean they want it, what happens when he gets older? Consent starts long before sex.” Jasmine kept her voice steady, despite her shaky body.
“Oh, come on. Ever since the Me Too movement, we have to put this pressure on little boys. They’re just kids. They shouldn’t have to worry about that yet.” Miss Stevens glanced at her watch.
The words were a punch to Jasmine’s chest, sucking the air from her lungs. The back of Jasmine’s eyes burned. She would not lose it here. She forced a breath in. “I’m sure the other parents at this school would think differently. And I’m sure the director might take my concerns more seriously.”
Miss Stevens’s eyes snapped to hers, her mouth going flat. “I’ll keep your comments in mind in the future. Keeping these kids safe and teaching them is my number-one priority.” Her tone was devoid of emotion and insincere, like a robot spitting out a prerecording.
Jasmine straightened. “I’d like to collect my daughter now.”
Zoey was all smiles as she climbed into her car seat. Jasmine buckled her in and handed her the snack she’d brought. Her hands hadn’t stopped trembling. Remnants of the adrenaline pumped in her veins. What am I going to do? The other preschool in Shattered Cove was private and cost an arm and a leg. Homeschooling wasn’t an option. She had an inn to run by herself, renovations to finish.
She rubbed her temples; a migraine was coming on.
“Can we listen to music, Mommy?” Zoey’s sweet voice broke through the panic, easing her soul.
“Sure, baby.” Jasmine flicked on the radio, searching their favorite stations until she found something upbeat.
“Yay! I love this one,” Zoey said excitedly, waving her hands and bobbing her head to Beyoncé’s “Run the World (Girls).”
Zoey and Jasmine shout-sang along to the chorus.
“Girls run the world, Mommy!” Zoey yelled after the song ended. They both laughed.
Jasmine shifted the car into gear and drove away from of the parking lot towards the inn. They sang at the top of their lungs. She danced it out, pushing her cares from her mind for a few miles as they headed back to the one place she felt safe—her lighthouse in the storm. Their home.