Page 93 of Stolen Dreams

“Add your final touches then bring the cake to the front for everyone to see. Then we’ll eat.”

We were all given the same ingredients, but each cake looks different. I love how creativity works that way.

Cakes finished, the kids fawn over them, complimenting each other. As they get sliced, Fin enters the room with a loaded cart. At the end of last week, the kids were given a lunch survey for this week. Fun as it would be to eat only cake for lunch, sending the kids home buzzed on sugar was not the best idea.

Fin delivers sandwiches on crusty bread to everyone while Ray slices cakes.

When he’s done, Ray joins us with his own lunch, sitting between me and Tucker. His hand on my thigh, he listens to the conversation between Tucker and Erin but doesn’t engage. Any time someone glances his way or tries to spark a conversation, Ray gives an artificial smile then stuffs his mouth.

Seeing him like this—despondent and so unlike the man I met—lights a fire in my veins. A furious, brutal flame I want to launch at the person responsible. Brianna has stolen so much from Ray, yet she feels entitled to take more. As it stands, Ray rarely leaves the house. Work and absolute necessities are all he’s willing to go for.

I loathe her for how vulnerable and insecure she makes him feel. How, with one move, she cuts open every wound she inflicted on him—that hadn’t quite healed—and disregards the painful aftermath.

For the past twelve days, I’ve bottled my feelings. Kept my tone calm and light. Resisted giving my opinion unnecessarily. Because Ray needs support, not bitterness.

But damn, do I want to scream my irritation to the heavens. Uncover Brianna Werner’s whereabouts and have law enforcement slap cuffs on her wrists. Gift Ray and Tucker the peace they deserve.

I’ve never experienced anger like this. But I’ve also never cared so deeply for someone—in this case, two people. And I’ll do just about anything to keep them—happy, healthy, safe, andmine.

Ray’s grip on my thigh tightens a beat before he leans into my side. “Coming over after the rec center?”

With Ray on self-imposed lockdown, I’ve spent my free time at his place. Our weekday evenings have been low-key, and Tucker seems oblivious to Ray’s protector mode. Somehow, we’ve kept Tucker entertained. He asked once last weekend why we weren’t going anywhere, and Ray played it off as a long, tiresome week.

I rest my hand over his, slowly stroking his knuckles with my thumb. “Yes, if that’s okay with you.” With all the chaos, I leave all decisions up to Ray. If he wants a father-son night with Tucker, I don’t want to intrude.

He loosens his hold, flips his hand over, and laces our fingers. “Always, Fire Eyes.” He presses a kiss to my temple. “Always,” he whispers softly.

Strengthening my hold, I rest my chin on his shoulder and give him my weight. “I’ll be there.”

When lunch wraps up, Ray asks Fin to keep an eye on Tucker while he walks me to my car. Although I’ve assured him I can handle myself—I never go anywhere without pepper spray or an eleven-inch pocketknife—he insists on escorting me to my car.

Secretly, I love his overprotective nature. The discreet way he says he cares.

“Text me when you get to the rec center.” He steps into me, frames my face, and kisses me as if he’ll never have the chance again.

Cuffing his wrists with my hands, I promise to message him. “See you soon.” I push up on my toes, kiss him chastely before releasing him, and slip into the driver’s seat.

I watch him in the rearview mirror as I exit the lot, his arms crossed over his chest and eyes on my car. With every cell in my body, I wish for a way to assure him I am safe. But you can’t ease someone’s anxiety with a finger snap or well-intentioned daydream.

An upbeat song plays in the background as my tires eat up the miles between Calhoun’s Bistro and Stone Bay Recreation Center. Sunlight beams through the windshield, a handful of clouds off in the distance. Pine and salt dance in the air as the breeze filters through my partially rolled-down windows. Business parking lots are jam-packed, smiling children yanking adults’ hands as they head toward their next adventure in town.

Everywhere, I see happiness. People enjoying the summer sun on their skin. Others hand in hand as they stroll down the sidewalk. Children laughing as they play chase in the shaded, fenced yard of the rec center.

I want this for Ray and Tucker. For them to move about in the world without worrying what happens next.

Reversing into a space at the back of the rec center lot, a pang forms beneath my diaphragm. I put the car in park and scan the surrounding cars. Press the lock button on the door and peer through untinted windows. Take a deep breath, then another, and another.

Not a soul lingers in the parking lot, but Ifeelsomeone watching.

Cutting the engine, I unbuckle my seat belt, shoulder my bag, take out my pepper spray, and exit the car. With confident, quick strides, I cross the lot on constant alert.

When I make it to the front door, I exhale the breath I’d been holding, stow the pepper spray, and step inside.

But the twinge in my gut lingers.

I turn around and study the parking lot through the tinted doors. Survey the vehicles from a different vantage point. Look for anything out of place.

Nothing… yet the cramp remains.

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