Page 102 of Finders Keepers

He squeezes me tight and whispers in my ear. “Goodnight, Bailey.” And then kisses the top of my head.

Once inside, Sophie talks excitedly through her bath time, telling her rubber duck all about steering Buttercup. I help her into her pajamas then we brush our teeth.

“Can we read two stories tonight?” she asks as we cuddle up in bed.

“One story,” I say firmly. “It’s already past bedtime.”

She picks one of her favorites and I do all the silly voices she loves. By the time the main character sails back home, her eyes are heavy.

“Mommy?” she asks as I tuck her in. “Can I have my own pony one day?”

I laugh softly. “We’ll see, baby. For now, you have Buttercup to ride whenever you have lessons.”

“I love Buttercup,” she yawns. “And Ms. Lucy, and Gavin…”

“I know you do.” I kiss her forehead. “Sweet dreams, my love.”

“Sweet dreams, Mommy. Love you to the moon and back.”

“Love you to the moon and back times infinity,” I echo.

After she’s asleep, I do my usual house check, doors locked, windows secured. I text Gavin“Goodnight.”

He replies:Goodnight Bailey. Try to get some sleep. Remember, you’ve got this, and you’ve got me.

I smile at his message and plug my phone into its charger.

Curling up on the couch with my romance book. I get through multiple chapters, losing myself in the story. My heart flutters as the main characters share a tender kiss in the rain, his strong hands cupping her face while thunder rolls in the distance. I can’t help but smile, thinking how sometimes fiction mirrors reality in the sweetest ways and by the time my eyes start to droop, I’m almost done with the book, thoroughly invested in their blooming romance and can’t help my mind wandering about how different my life is now compared to just a few months ago.

I feel a flicker of unease ripple through me as I compare my past and present situations. The stark differences instantly make my stomach clench—thinking about where Sophie and I were just months ago versus the peace we’ve found here at Ms. Lucy’s. While I’m grateful for how far we’ve come, those memories still have a way of sneaking up on me, casting shadows over even the most contented moments.

Sophie’s smiling more these days. Her eyes light up in ways I haven’t seen in so long. She’s making friends, coming out of her shell, giggling with Tommy during playdates instead of hiding behind my legs. And me? I’m starting to feel a little like myself again, piece by piece, rediscovering the woman I was before everything fell apart. I catch glimpses of her in the mirror sometimes, in a genuine laugh or a moment of confidence I thought I’d lost forever.

The anxiety is still there though, humming beneath the surface like an electric current. The fear of what Matt might do next is still at the forefront of my mind, casting its long shadow even over our brightest moments here. Every unfamiliar car that drives past Ms. Lucy’s makes my heart skip a beat. Every phone call sends ice through my veins.

I check the time on my phone and startle when I see it’s almost midnight. Wow, I hadn’t realized I read for as long as I had, completely lost in the story’s world. I need to get to bed, tomorrow’s another busy day of deliveries. I mark my place in the book, and then I realize the beautiful wildflowers Gavin left in my car need fresh water.

The house is quiet except for the soft hum of the AC and the lamp in the living room casts a low intimate glow into the kitchen. As I fill the vase with fresh water something catches my eye through the window above the sink. There’s an odd shape or marking on the glass, but in the low light, I can’t quite make it out. I reach out and touch the glass, but the markings are still there.

My heart starts to race. It could be nothing but still, my hands tremble as I reach for the kitchen light switch.

The bright lights flicker on, and my blood runs cold.

My lungs seize.

I stand frozen, my mind completely shutting down as I stare at what’s before me. For a heartbeat, maybe two, I can’t process what I’m seeing. Then survival instinct kicks in, and I move with an urgency I didn’t know my body possessed, my trembling limbs suddenly finding their purpose.

I grab my phone off its charger and take a picture and then edit it. It nearly slips from my fingers as I stare at the mirrored image.

The words “I CAN SEE YOU” with a crude drawing of what’s unmistakably a rifle scope.

Matt.

My legs give out and I slide down against the cabinets, forcing myself to take shallow breaths. I can’t breathe.

Don’t pass out.

Don’t pass out.

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