Page 125 of Bossy Hero

“It’s fine. I don’t need to discuss it.” She swoops her gaze to the parking lot. “Where are they?”

I spare the lot a quick glance. It’s still as empty as it was before, so I focus on my daughter. “Samantha, talk to me. What did you remember? It was like when I told you to do what?”

“Okay, fine. Sue already knows about most of our past, so no sense in hiding this.” Sammy worries her lip for a beat before whispering, “The idea of how we’re stronger togethernowwhile nervously waiting for our guys reminded me of when I was a kid. You told Leo, Drew, and me to stay together.” She releases a shaky exhale. “When you told us to go hide from Dad. You said we’d be safer if we hid together.”

Her confession makes my knees wobble and breath catch. “I said that?”

“Yes.” There’s almost ano-duhtone to her instant reply.

I don’t speak while I process her words, having no memory of telling my children to hide.

“Leo mentioned that to me once before,” Sue offers tentatively. “I told him something that I’ll tell you now.”

“What?” Sammy asks her.

“It’s like my folks used to say.Ar scáth a chéile a mhaireann na daoine.”

“Thanks, Sue. That’s very encouraging,” Sammy deadpans, her typical snark returning.

Sue takes the ribbing in stride. “If you’d have let me finish, I’d have explained. Now I’m not so sure you deserve to hear my parents’ Irish wisdom.”

Sammy juts her lower lip out at her sister-in-law, flashing doe eyes. “I’m so proud of you for this fake bitchy attitude, Susie Q. We’ve still got work to do, but I’m seeing improvement in your capacity for sass.”

Sue’s face brightens. “Oh, that gives me an idea for my word game with Leo. Capacity for sass.Sasspacity.”

I watch the exchange, barely able to follow it through the swelling of emotions.

Eventually, Sue explains the Irish lesson. “The saying more or less meansthat in the shelter of others, we will persevere.”

“Aw. Sorry for teasing you. That’s beautiful.”

Silence settles around us while I dig through thoughts of the past.

As I hold my daughter, I find no memory of me telling my kids to hide from their father. I always thought I never did a thing to protect them from his abuse. While telling them to hide or stay together isn’t enough, it is... something.

So why can’t I remember doing it?

Finally, I blurt out in a rush, “Samantha, I don’t remember telling you and your brothers to hide together. Are you sure I did?”

She glances at Sue, then back at me, compassion coloring her expression. “You did it almost every time. I’m certain of it. How could you forget that?”

“I don’t know,” I choke out, tears pooling in my eyes.

If I don’t recall doing that, what else have I hidden from myself?

“I’ll just head over there for a minute while you two talk,” Sue whispers from the corner of her mouth, side-stepping away from us.

Extricating from Sammy’s embrace, I bring myself squarely in front of her. While I don’t believe she’d joke or mislead me about something like this, I have to be sure. And I need to see her full face for that.

“Samantha, I have no recollection of ever doing anything to protect you from your father. And it’s plagued me for years. If you’re saying I did this—and I want to believe you—I can’t help but wonder if I did other things. I want to know what you remember from those days, but I’m also terrified to ask. And I don’t want you to have to relive it.”

She grabs both my hands, massaging her thumbs over my knuckles in small circles. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You really don’t remember?”

Tears crest and spill over, running down my cheeks and dampening my shirt.

My beautiful daughter releases my hands to run her palms soothingly up my arms. “Mom, you always tried to protect us.”

“I did?” I squeak, the question nearly freezing my vocal cords.

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