Page 69 of Wild and Bright

“No, it’s not.”

“But I was hungover.” Her voice sounds faraway. “I used to take baths with her all the time back then. It seemed easier because she always wanted to stay in there forever playing with her little water toys, and I’d get so bored sitting on the toilet waiting for her. But I really shouldn’t have done it that time. I had just gotten home from a seriously wild Vegas weekend. I mean, like constant drunkenness kind of weekend. It was the first time I partied after I had her, and I went all out. I vaguely remember letting a random guy go down on me in a hot tub. God, he was so old, too.”

My jaw clenches with that familiar jealousy. It shows how irrational it is, that I would feel it even in a moment like this, but for some reason, I can never seem to help it. Thankfully, she’s too lost in her head to notice how my body stiffened.

“When I got home, all I wanted to do was sleep, but of course, my mom wanted to punish me because she had been stalking my Instagram the whole weekend. I know because she viewed every single one of my stories. So she basically dumped Cadence off on me and disappeared into her bedroom…”

When she trails off, I know she’s in the past right now, because I’ve been there, too. Those heart-stopping moments when I found Hunter on the floor or with his head facedown on a couch are so vivid that I can even smell the stale, sweaty stench of vodka radiating from his skin.

When I stroke my finger along her cheek, she resumes talking, her voice hushed. “I never thought I would fall asleep. I really didn’t…”

“Of course you didn’t.”

“No, but… I should have known, because I’m always falling asleep—like you were saying—especially since I became a mom. And this time I was seriously exhausted.”

“No one ever thinks something like that will happen.”

“It was almost like blacking out when you’re drunk. One minute I was sitting there watching Cadence splash around in the water, and the next I was jerking awake at the sound of my mom yelling. She told me we had been in the bathroom for an hour—” Her voice is choked.

I tighten my hold around her, stroking the side of her arm with my thumb.

“I knew she wasn’t exaggerating because the water was cold.” She shivers. “I’ll never forget that part of it. It makes me sick to my stomach, because I can’t stop myself from imagining…”

Her little inhale is so unsteady, she must be either crying or trying to stop herself from crying. “Don’t think about that. Nothing happened. Cadence was fine.”

“She was crying because she couldn’t get out of the tub, and I didn’t hear her. I kept sleeping.”

When I hear the first sob, a chill runs through my whole body. I haven’t heard her cry since she was a little girl. I graze my lips over the top of her head.

“I think she still remembers,” Lauren says. “I think she does subconsciously. And she’ll never really trust me.”

“That’s crazy, and I think you know it. People don’t remember things from that early in life.”

She shakes her head vehemently, and I feel it against my chest. “Maybe we don’t have any conscious memories, but I think experiences like that stay with us. There’s no way she could forget a betrayal like that.”

I keep my voice very soft, not wanting to sound condescending. “I think you’re speaking more for yourself than for her. I think you can’t forget it, and you’re projecting those feelings on to her. That little girl adores you. And she fully trusts you.”

“How do you know?”

The hope in her voice—her unflinching trust in my opinion—makes my pulse speed up. A lot is riding on my answer. This is an opportunity to prove my value to her. I take a deep breath before speaking.

“Hunter never liked it when my parents went out of town. When he was really little, I mean. He would cry and cry, and I remember, even as a seven-year-old, being perplexed by it. I remember thinking it was almost like he was worried they wouldn’t come back. Or he didn’t trust them to leave us with people who would treat us well.”

“And?” Her tone is skeptical, but I still sense that she’s eager to be convinced.

“And I think I was right about that. I don’t think Hunter trusts our parents, even now, and it’s because, as much as they love him, they’ve never known how to give him what he needs. Once I got a little older, and I mean not even much older, like maybe eight or nine, it was like he suddenly replaced my parents with me. If he was sad or scared, he would come to me instead of them.”

“I always noticed that.”

“It’s because I knew how to meet his needs. I knew how to make him feel safe.” My eyes bore into hers. “And that’s exactly what you do with Cadence. That confidence she has in herself—the way she’ll tell you what she thinks, as if her opinions are as valid as any adult’s—that comes from you. You listen to her. You validate her.”

She nods slowly, her brows drawing together. “I don’t know if I can take credit for that. I think that’s all her.” The ghost of a smile touches her lips. “Sometimes I think I got really lucky. I don’t know what I would do if I had a shitty kid. I think I’d be a terrible mom. Do you remember the other twins on our block? From like ten years ago? Callum and Connor? One time I caught Callum throwing rocks at a stray cat. God, he was a fucking psychopath. I’ll bet he’s in jail now. And Connor whined all the time. I’d be a really shitty mom if they were my kids.”

After I kiss her head, I smile against her hair, the soft strands tickling my lips. “I don’t think that’s true. I think you’d rise to the occasion, but she is a pretty amazing little girl.”

For the first time, she looks up at me. Her cheeks are glistening since she hasn’t bothered to wipe her tears away.

“You’re really sweet to Cadence. I never thought you’d be so nice.”

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