Page 294 of Unexpected Heroine

I click my tongue four times. “Won’t it look like I’m flinging myself onto his lap and begging for attention? The getting-to-know-each-other stage shouldn’t be forced. I’ll text him. He gave me his number.”

“He’s in the car now, so he’ll likely call you once he sees your text.”

“Eww.”

Tomer’s vibrato chuckle progresses from tickling my nipples to pinching and rolling them.

Well, snap my garters. I love his laugh.

“Sweetness, he’s on his way back to HQ and will be in my office in twenty minutes. I’ll ask him and let you know what he says. Regardless of his answer, I’ll pick you up after group therapy. You’re sleeping in my arms, starting tonight until the end of time.”

My chest feels tight, but not with sadness or worry this time. It’s because my heart is bursting with love.

We say our goodbyes, adding approximately twenty-seven I love yous each before ending the call.

My eyes land back on the search results on my phone. Page after page of references to mythology, folklore, and religious sites. They all have similar takes on the symbolism, albeit from different viewpoints. In addition to the standard stuff about butterflies representing metamorphosis, there’s quite a bit more specific to angels.

Skimming through the descriptions, I find myself giggling and wearing a rapidly stretching smile.

Angels use butterflies to send messages to earth.

Native Americans believed that the beautiful patterns on a butterfly’s wings are the thumbprints of angels.

The Aztecs thought butterflies were used to usher the souls of fallen warriors into the afterlife.

Seeing a butterfly is often viewed as receiving a message from a deceased loved one.

Naturally, that makes me think of Papa, widening my smile even more. However, one description in particular shifts my reaction from amusement to something deeper.

My throat grows thick, and tears prick at the backs of my eyes as I re-read the line.

As messengers of hope, endurance, and life, butterflies are angels watching over you.

Aren’t those some of the same descriptors Sabrina used a few moments ago when she likened me to an angel, as absurd a notion as it may be?

My breath catches in my throat. One of Papa’s life lessons rings clear as a bell. Don’t dwell on the bad, Lettie bear. Find them bright spots in the gloomy clouds.

Since I was taken, I couldn’t fathom any bright spots existing in such a horrific nightmare. It was all suffering for the sake of suffering. Or a punishment.

Maybe I was wrong.

For something to shine through clouds as dark and thick as those, it would need to be something momentous. Unfiltered sunshine.

Who am I to deny those girls if they feel my presence in that house gave them hope and helped them endure? And when Tomer and his team saved me, the girls were saved too. Tina was right in saying they wouldn’t have been freed if I wasn’t there. I can’t dispute that.

My pain had a greater purpose.

My suffering wasn’t needless.

The journey ahead of me won’t be easy. Healing from something like this is bound to be a bumpy road. When it gets hard, I’ll cling to this moment. Regardless of whether it’s real, the hope this gives me isn’t all that different from what they say I gave them as a butterfly.

Hope is never a bad thing. It’s the rope floating in front of you when you’re sinking. Grab it and let it keep you above water when you’re too exhausted to keep treading.

As for me, I’m holding on with both hands.

Chapter 55

Fifteen Years Ago

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