Page 85 of A Very Daddy Christmas

I try to move closer, but she takes a step back. “I know it sounds awful, but—”

“But what, Cora? Why? Why keep this from me? When there was so much at stake?” Eva scoffs and shakes her head again. “So all these people spreading rumors were actually telling the truth. You are hooking up with three men. And it has cost useverything.”

“I’m sorry,” I say it once more. I’ll never stop saying it. I don’t know what else to do.

“Save it,” Eva shouts, car keys jingling in her hand as she stomps to her car. “I don’t even want to look at you right now!”

I give her a confused look. “Wait, where are you going?”

“I’m going to the hardware store to get some plywood for these fucking windows. You need to stay here and make sure no one comes along and loots the goddamn place on top of everything else,” Eva bluntly replies. “And tell your boyfriends what happened. They’re just as responsible as you for this entire shitstorm.”

“Eva, please—”

“I need to get away from you for a minute before I say things I’ll never be able to take back. You fucked up in a way I can’t possibly fix, and I need to figure out a way forward. For myself, for my daughters, for my family. I’ll be back.”

She gets in the car and drives off in a screeching fury.

The taillights glimmer red before she turns left and vanishes from sight. I’m left to my own devices, sobbing and crumbling as I struggle to remain upright against this merciless devastation. It is, like my sister said, a disaster of my own making.

And I don’t think I can survive it.

27

Cora

Tears sting my eyes as I go inside and pick up a broom and a dustpan. I have to at least try to clean some of this mess up. It’s hard to do, however, when I’m sobbing like a child, my face burning and my heart breaking with every brush of the broom. The glass crunches under my boots as the smell of spray paint turns my stomach inside out.

The guys went out of their way to keep us safe. Maybe I should’ve been more mindful, more accepting of the limitations of our relationship. Or maybe I shouldn’t feel so guilty. We were consenting adults. We all knew the risks involved.

Our desire for one another was overwhelming. That’s the only truth I can acknowledge. Love and passion were more powerful than the fear of discovery and the ensuing repercussions. It was incredible in the moment, but now, as I scoop up broken glass and try not to puke my guts out again, I realize it all blew up in my face, ruining everything.

I set everything down, unable to do anymore.

Cursing under my breath, I go outside. I need the sharp air cutting into my lungs as I struggle to pull myself together. I’m weeping uncontrollably, shuddering and whimpering, as I try to regain some clarity.

I hear a vehicle pull over, its rumbling engine making my senses flare in a negative way. I hear the boots on the snowy pavement. The rushed footsteps.

By the time I look up, it’s too late.

“No!” I scream as a bag is shoved onto my head.

Strong arms coil around me like serpents, constricting and cutting off my air. I’m lifted off the ground, unable to fight my attacker. I keep screaming, but the sound is muffled. I squirm and kick as I’m shoved into the back of a van.

“Hold her down!” a man barks an order.

I feel someone rest their weight on me as someone else zip ties my hands in front of me.

“LET ME GO! HELP ME!” I scream from the bottom of my lungs as the door slides shut.

“No one can hear you,” another man grumbles from the darkness of captivity.

I take a deep breath and try to calm myself. If I’m going to survive this, I need to be smart. I need to try and get as much information as I can about who has me and where they are taking me.

“Who are you?” I ask, my voice trembling with dread.

“No talking!” a man snaps, startling me. They’re still holding me down.

The van rumbles up the road, making turns. Two left. One right, so far. I’m trying to figure out where we’re going as the adrenaline pumps through me in a ferocious rhythm.

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