Page 27 of Daddy's Christmas Rescue
I stared at the bunny on the pillow, then the folded blanket, the clothes she’d put away so carefully. Not even a trace of her scent left in the air, except maybe the faintest hint of honey from her bath last night, clinging to the edge of the sheet.
Amanda was talking but I barely heard her. I was already making a list in my head: she’d have gone out the back, maybe taken the path by the creek so no one would see her from the road. She’d be wearing that kitten sweater, maybe the jacket I bought, maybe not even that if Amanda made her feel small enough. No phone. No ID. No money. And nowhere to go.
She’d left the bunny behind.
I’d rejected her last night.
Amanda huffed a laugh. “Don’t pretend you cared about her. You always did like strays, but this one was pathetic, even for you.” She rolled her eyes, then softened her voice. “Come back to bed. Forget about her.”
I didn’t move. I couldn’t. I just stared at the empty room, the bunny, the blanket. The way she’d tried to take up as little space as possible, even when she was hurting. I saw the chocolate cake on the counter, the cookies, and took in the decorations. I knew Holly had done that.For me.
And I realized I’d made the biggest goddamn mistake of my life.
“You’ve got two minutes to get some clothes on or I’m throwing you out like that.” My voice was low, firm, and even Amanda knew she wasn’t going to change my mind. In another moment she’d gone, the door slamming behind her.
I took my coat so when I found her I could wrap her up in it. I just grabbed a flashlight, shoved my feet into boots, and let Biscuit pull me down the drive into the dark. The snow hit my face like knives, but I didn’t care. She was out here somewhere. Alone. Probably freezing. Maybe worse.
I walked the creek path first, calling her name, but my voice sounded dead in the night. Just the echo and the dog’s breath, panting clouds into the dark. The trail was already half-gone under fresh snow. No footprints. No sign she’d ever even been here.
Biscuit ran ahead, nose to the ground, tail up. He found the fence at the back of the property and whined, running circles like if he just kept looking, she’d appear. I let him lead, hoping he could do what I couldn’t.
We circled the block, then I went back for the truck. I checked every alley, every construction site, every place I could think of. Sometimes I’d see a shape in the headlights and my heart would lurch, but it was never her. Not even close.
Every time I stopped, I remembered the look on her face last night. The way she’d curled around that fucking bunny like she didn’t deserve to want anything. The way she’d tried so hard to be small, to be good, and I’d sent her away without even realizing it.
I tried the bus station. The gas station. The all-night diner on Main. Nothing. I asked the graveyard shift guy if he’d seen her, but he just shook his head. Didn’t even look up from his phone.
By midnight, the snow was coming down so hard I could barely see to drive. I kept moving.
The cops took the info I gave them but there were too many homeless for them to keep track of.
I just kept driving. I left Biscuit in the truck and went into a few places on foot. Calling. Hoping. I told myself I’d go home when my phone died, but when the screen finally went black I just kept going anyway.
By the time we got home, the sun was coming up. Pale, sickly light, leaking through the clouds. My hands were numb. My face burned from the wind. Biscuit went straight to his bed and curled up, looking as miserable as I felt.
The house still smelled like chocolate cake and Christmas. Like her. The bunny was still on the pillow.
I called Cas because I really didn’t know what else to do.
She was silent for a moment. “I can’t track her with no phone. Have you called the shelters?”
I immediately felt a fool. “No, but I called the cops.”
Cas was silent for another beat. “Not sure that was a good idea.”
“What else was I supposed to do?”
She sighed. “I know a couple of people. Give me a few minutes and I’ll try.”
I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at it for a long time. I knew I’d failed her. I’d promised she’d be safe here, and then I’d let her walk out into the cold alone. I pressed my hand to my face, hard, like maybe I could push the ache back down. Didn’t work.
I should have told her. I should have told her she was wanted. That she could have asked me for anything and I would have given it.
Instead, I let first my own insecurities then my suspicions tear everything apart.
Holly
I didn't want to go with the priest at first. He was kind, but I was afraid he’d see straight through me, see how much of a mess I was inside. He found me sitting in the back row of his church, clutching the plastic bag, my hands numb from the cold and my brain all tangled up with shame. I could barely even look at him.
