Page 10 of Daddy Reed

They have to.

I want to be with them, scouring the woods looking for my strong-willed daughter, but the younger kids need me right now. It’s past time for breakfast, and they’re getting crabby.

“I can cook the eggs, Mom,” Destiny offers. “Or I can go outside and look for Rae. Whatever I can do to help. I’m old enough.”

Destiny is such an angel. She’s the complete opposite of Raegan and a heck of a lot easier to parent.

“Helping wrangle these little ones is perfect.” I smooth my palm over her silky blonde head and then scurry over to the skillet to scramble the eggs. “I’ll get some food in their bellies, and then we can look some more.”

Despite my outwardly calm demeanor, my nerves are brittle, and my stomach won’t stop clenching with worry. Not knowing where one of my kids are is sickening. This isn’t some teenage runaway situation. My kids are happy here. Not one of them would run away. Not even Raegan.

Something bad has happened.

I feel it in my gut.

As I scramble the eggs, tuning out the chattering of the kids playing in the living room, my mind drifts to the past. When I was her age. When my safety was stripped from me.

They came into our home.

Burst through the door, held my father down and forced him to watch while they. . . A shudder ripples through me. It’s been so long since that horrible day, but it still feels so fresh.

Bruising fingers and barked threats.

Rancid breath.

Utter helplessness and absolute fear.

And there was the pain. Soul-shattering and relentless. They were inside me—taking and taking and taking.

A wretched sob crackles from my throat, startling me from the past back into the present. I swear I can almost smell their body odor, lingering like a foul cloud, filling every inch of my lungs. When I suck in a deep breath of air, the scent of cooking eggs replaces the remembered stench. I shakily dump some salt into the yellow fluff, doing my best to focus on the now to keep myself grounded.

Dad saved me.

Reed saved me.

Not right then, because they had the upper hand. Later. He saved me over and over again later with his continuous love. His unending desire to bring me joy. There was no peace in his eyes until he avenged me, making their murders brutal and painful.

I sniffle, swiping at my wet cheek with the back of my hand. One thing’s for sure. I have to compose myself before I feed my babies. They’ll sense my quiet desperation to find Raegan and the fear of what could happen to her. It’ll upset them, and I need my children to be happy.

Always but especially now.

Quickly, I turn off all memories and plate up the cooked eggs. There are still muffins left over from yesterday’s baking, so I add them and some fruit to their plates. Breakfast is served. Just barely.

I’m too sick to my stomach to eat, so I take Dawson from Destiny and sit him in his highchair. He’s extra fussy, but as soon as I get a jar of sweet potatoes open and he gets his first bite, he settles down. I also sprinkle some eggs on his tray so he can play with and eat them while I feed him the potatoes.

My mind is back on images of Raegan. Except, instead of Reed watching those men rape me, it’s me in our old cabin watching them hurt my baby girl. The emotional punch to the gut has me dropping the spoon poised at Dawson’s mouth. It clatters noisily, splattering orange goo all over both him and me.

“Oh good, scrambled eggs. I’m starving.”

The voice has me freezing, wondering if I’m imagining things. It feels more real—sharper than my memories of my past.

Whirling around, I locate the person belonging to the nonchalant voice. Like a vision come to life, my daughter prances into the dining room like nothing is amiss.

It takes me a second for reality to set in.

She’s alive.

My daughter is alive and apparently well.

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