Page 42 of Small Town Secrets

Her mind flicked through memory after memory. The open look of shock on Mike’s face when she’d told him she was pregnant. Of how he’d initially been almost too invested in her pregnancy, only to stop caring once Whitney was born. Every little moment came back to her in a whole new light. One where he was less an overwhelmed new father and more a conflicted man hiding a gut-wrenching secret.

For so long she’d figured Mike’s laziness came from not wanting to be a dad. She hadn’t truly suspected cheating… Or that he’d just wanted to be part of somebody else’s family.

And the imaginary world she’d built in her mind about him in his absence—forever assuming he’d ruin every relationship succeeding the one with her—that he’d never truly commit to someone. That he’d waste his life away. Alone.

She scuffed her bare feet over the rough carpet and backed away, as though Ramos were Mike and she were a younger Laila, gifted a chance to make better decisions on how her life would go.

“How?” The question fell from her, again, as if she were speaking to Mike.

“Nina Clark worked with Mike.” Adrian’s hands curled into tight fists at his sides, as though he wanted to come get her and tell her everything would be alright. But the dark circles under his eyes told her nothing was alright. “The affair got him fired from his old job. The one he had when Whit was born.”

A pitchy squeak slipped from her lips, and she clapped a hand over her mouth only to feel a wet new swell of tears washing over her cheeks.

How embarrassing!

All those times she’d scrambled to find money. To do anything to keep that man in her life. And although Mike worked a little out of town, no one from his old job had reached out to tell her. They’d left her to do the exhausting dance of trying to keep her family together, never really knowing the truth of what went wrong.

“Are you okay, Laila?”

She shook her head and stared at Whitney’s closed bedroom door, heart a pain-filled mess beneath her ribcage, wanting nothing but to escape everything about this moment.

“I need her.” She blinked at that door and reminded herself of something she’d always sought to keep in mind. That it wasn’t fair to expect a child to carry a parent’s burdens. So, as always, she shifted her perspective, lifted her posture, and packed everything away. Especially her torrid emotions. “I need to go to her.”

All the hurt. All the betrayal. Every urge to lash out and be angry at the world. Everything got locked away behind an impenetrable wall she’d been building since the day she’d learned she would be a mother. That’s what good mothers did, didn’t they? They held every moment together. Especially the more painful ones.

“I’ll sleep next to Whitney tonight.” Her voice came out perhaps a little too calm. Too cold. She strode for Whitney’s door, refusing to ask for permission to go to her child. Not Mike’s. Not Adrian’s. Hers. That child, the one constant that would never leave her. Her reason for not falling apart completely.

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

Twenty-Five

A week and a half passed before Laila was given clearance to remove her sling long enough to drive to and from work. Now, she paced around the cabin’s kitchen adjusting her sling and packing her lunch for her first shift back, her duties at the store limited to serving at the cigarette counter.

Willing her parents to arrive to watch Whitney, where they would take her for a sleepover at their safehouse for a small break from the confines of this safehouse, she glanced out the living room window. Ramos sat in her peripheral vision, cross-legged on the floor, helping Whit put together a forty-eight-piece puzzle.

He, too, had a work thing to leave for. As usual, something secretive, though in this case, her lack of knowledge was partly her fault. Every time his stare caught hers, she’d look away. An unfair habit she’d formed since learning about Mike’s secret family. One she struggled to break.

The wind had been knocked right out of her ability to fully engage with others, especially Ramos, since he was the closest thing to Mike. Again, an unfair comparison, but then grief and trauma weren’t always all that logical.

So, now she was trapped in a loop of constantly trying to open up to Ramos, while battling a renewed need to keep every heartbroken or inconvenient emotion to herself.

“Mommy’s too sad lately.”

Whitney’s small voice jolted Laila from her thoughts, though the child had likely read whatever far-off expression Laila currently held. Her heart strained and she snapped her attention to her daughter, Whit’s lower lip pouted in a frown.

Though she moved to comfort her daughter, Ramos got there first. “Everyone gets sad sometimes. Mommies too. Sometimes we all just need a little time to figure out our feelings.”

Ramos turned his gaze to her, the steadfast look in his eyes speaking volumes. As much as he didn’t deserve her shutting him out, he somewhat understood her reasons why.

She tilted her head to one side and offered an appreciative nod.

“Adrian’s right.” She crouched down beside Whitney and cupped her child’s face. “And even if I am a little sad, sad feelings don’t make me love you any less. In fact, when I am sad, guess who makes me happiest of all?”

Whitney’s eyes lit up, as did her smile, those gappy teeth of hers working their magic on Laila’s mood. “Me?”

“Yah betcha.” Laila leaned in and gave Whit some kisses on her cheeks, nose, and forehead. “Every single time, Baby Girl.”

Whitney flopped forward and embraced her mother, her little head coming to rest on her chest. Meanwhile, Laila lifted her focus to Ramos, reaching out to press her hand to his cheek. Her first bit of physical contact with him in over a week. “We’ll have a talk when we’re both done with work, okay?”

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