by Lea Coll
“I have nightmares about her driving Rylan when she’s drunk.” His voice was quiet as if he was afraid to admit it out loud. He dropped his head into his hands.
“You could offer to do all of the pick-ups and drop-offs. That way, you’re driving, and you can see if she’s sober before you drop her off. It doesn’t give you one-hundred percent control of the situation but—”
“It’s better than what I have currently.”
“Exactly.”
His lips tilted up in a smile. “You’re surprisingly easy to talk to. I can’t even talk to my parents about this stuff. I don’t want to worry them. I don’t want it to eat them up inside like it does me.”
My chest filled with pride that I could be a source of support for Tanner. I’d never been someone people could turn to. I was so guarded—I didn’t let anyone in. “I’m glad I could help. Sometimes talking to strangers or someone outside the situation is easier. That’s the same reason people find Al-Anon meetings helpful.”
“You’re not a stranger.” His voice was soft, his eyes darkened.
I swallowed—what did he mean? Did he want something more with me? “No, but we’re not exactly friends, either.”
“I invited you over, made you lasagna, and we’re sitting in front of the fire talking about our family issues. It sounds friendly to me.”
“It does when you put it like that,” I said softly. It sounded nice and felt even better. I leaned back on the couch enjoying the moment—the warmth of the fire, the weight of Tanner’s eyes on me, and the comfort of a family that loved each other, cared for each other. I wanted it so badly it took my breath away, but I knew it couldn’t happen with him.
Other than Kristen, my only other friend in town was a police officer. He was a guy who’d want answers to his questions, and I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to give him that.
Sadie
The next few weeks flew by with a busier than usual trial calendar at the public defender’s office, dance lessons in the evening, and organizing the upcoming fundraising events. After we had dinner at his house, Tanner made a point to greet me after each class and talk to me for a few minutes. Tonight, I followed Rylan as she ran to hug him.
My smile felt huge on my face when he smiled at me over Rylan’s head. As she chatted excitedly with a friend, Tanner leaned in to whisper in my ear, “Are you missing my home cooking yet?”
“I am.” It wasn’t just the food I missed—it was the love, the feeling of closeness at his house. When I lay in bed at night and talked to him over the phone, I wanted to be with him. I wanted to be cuddled up on the couch while we watched a movie. I wanted to talk about our days and what funny things Rylan had done. But I didn’t know how to take that next step with him or if he even wanted to.
“Miss Sadie, you should come over for dinner again. We can make a cake for you.”
I exchanged an amused look with Tanner. “Just a cake?”
“Yeah, double fudge chocolate with rainbow sprinkles. Right, Daddy?”
Tanner tilted his head. “We might need more than cake for dinner.”
“I don’t know, Rylan, can you sustain yourself on cake alone?” I teased.
“Yup.” Her eyes were round as she looked from me to Tanner.
Tanner leaned closer, his breath tickling the shell of my ear. “You’re going to be a troublemaker, aren’t you?”
He was so close. I wanted to step into him. I wanted to curl my arm around his back and rest my head on his shoulder.
Tanner’s phone rang and broke the moment. He shot me an apologetic look. “It’s my mother—I have to take this.”
“No problem.” It was like a balloon had expanded in my chest—making me feel invincible. It was a new feeling and I wanted to hold it tight and never let go.
As I was about to walk into the studio to start class the next week, Tanner stopped me with a hand on my arm. “Can you do me a favor?”
I focused on the contrast of his tan calloused hand on mine. The warmth seeped through my skin and my heart rate soared.
“Sadie?”
“Yes?” If he said my name in that soft tone of voice, I’d do anything for him and that was dangerous. Was he going to ask me out? The desire to have him say those words were so intense I struggled to breathe in deeply.
“I got called into work. Can I leave Rylan here with you and have my parents pick her up? When I filled out the paperwork, I listed them as people who are authorized to pick up.”
“Of course.” Goosebumps erupted over my skin. It was a favor he might have asked of any teacher, but with his hand still holding my arm it felt like more—like he trusted me.
“Thank you. I have to go but if my parents are late or if there’s a problem, please call me.” He held my eyes for another few seconds and understanding passed between us before he nodded.
When he released my arm, the warmth of his hand lingered like the glow from the realization that he trusted me with his daughter. It was a small thing—leaving his child in my care for a dance class. It wasn’t like I was babysitting her for hours on my own. But I knew Tanner didn’t trust easily when it came to his daughter. Bree’s actions had eroded his trust and probably made him more cautious with his decisions regarding Rylan’s care.
I closed the door to the studio and focused on my class. I felt Tanner’s grip on my arm throughout class.
When dance ended, Rylan was the last to leave the studio. “Did your daddy tell you that your grandparents are picking you up?”
“Yes,” she answered, searching the waiting room, she ran when she spotted them and yelled, “Grandma!”
I followed her and smiled when she stopped in front of two older people and spun to show off a dance move she’d learned in class.
“Look at that. You’re a lovely dancer,” her grandmother said, holding her arms out for a hug. After hugging Rylan, the woman stood. She was about my height with straight shoulder-length gray hair.
Her husband stood roughly six feet, an inch or so shorter than Tanner, but with the same stocky build. “I’m Bryan Green.”
I wondered what Tanner had told them about me, if anything, as I shook his hand. “Sadie Cole. Nice to meet you.”
“You must be the dance teacher Rylan can’t stop talking about,” Bryan said.
I smiled at Rylan as happiness filled me. “I guess so. I didn’t realize I was so memorable.”
“She loves this class. She’s been showing me her dance moves. I’m sorry I haven’t introduced myself, I’m Deborah,” Rylan’s grandmother said.
“Nice to meet you. I’m glad Rylan enjoys the class. We have a recital before Christmas so she can show you everything she’s learned.”
“We can’t wait.” She helped Rylan put on her coat while Bryan picked up her dance bag.
Deborah turned to leave then pivoted her attention back to me. “Is Felicia Cole your grandmother?”
“Yes.” I held my breath and hoped she wouldn’t ask any more questions. Did she know my grandmother? Did she know I hadn’t spoken to her since I was seventeen?
But when I looked into her eyes—so similar to Tanner’s, I saw concern, understanding, and something else—maybe pity. The only thing I hated more than judgment was pity. I didn’t need it.
“She’s in my book club,” Deborah said.
“That’s nice.” I had nothing to add to the conversation and I couldn’t imagine what my grandparents said about me. That they were ashamed of me. That they wanted nothing to do with me. My grandparents’ abandonment was the worst kind of rejection—they knew me and discarded me, unlike my father, who probably didn’t know I existed.
Deborah opened her mouth as if to say something else, but Bryan placed his hand on her arm, stopping her. “Let’s get going. I’m sure Rylan’s starving.”
“Well, I’m sure we’ll see you again. We help out since Tanner’s job is a bit unpredictable,” Deborah said.
“That’s so nice of you.” I wanted to add that grandparents
are an important part of a child’s life, but I didn’t want to invite questions about the rift with mine.
She patted my hand before turning to leave. “Have a good night.”
“You too,” I said, waving to Rylan before she skipped out the door ahead of her grandparents.
Seeing Rylan with her grandparents made me wonder if I should reach out to my grandparents. If I called, would they be happy to hear from me? If I showed up at their house, would they refuse to talk to me, or would they be pleased to see me? Would they apologize for walking out without a word? It was more likely they’d tell me everything I’d done wrong back then. How I’d let Annabelle down, along with Dennis’s future victims, and them—the only people who’d ever been proud of me.
I had trusted my grandparents to be there for me, to be a sanctuary from my mother, but they left me. I had trusted Dennis and he violated that trust in the worst way. The act of letting someone in, trusting them, relying on them, was a slippery slope. In the end, everyone always left.
Later that night, I lay in my bed and tried to settle my mind so I could sleep, when my phone buzzed.
Tanner: Everything go okay today?
Sadie: Yeah, your parents were there on time and Rylan was happy to see them.
I chewed my lip and wondered if I should say more. Usually, I didn’t offer more information or take a conversation deeper, but I wanted to. I wanted to know more about his family and him. I wanted to take a risk with him. Maybe we’d only be friends or perhaps we could be more, but I’d never find out if I didn’t make an effort. Rylan brought up dinner last week after dance, but we hadn’t been able to coordinate anything. Tanner had been working a lot of overtime.
Sadie: Your parents seemed nice. I winced at my trite statement. Why couldn’t I come up with something more interesting to say?
Tanner: Yeah, I’m lucky to have them. They’re always there for me.
Those words traveled through my body, leaving longing in their wake.
Sadie: That’s nice. Uh. Why was everything I wrote cringe-worthy? Bubbles appeared immediately, disappeared then reappeared before the text came through.
Tanner: Do you have anyone there for you?
I sucked in a sharp breath. What was I supposed to say to that? Should I lie? I had Kristen, maybe, possibly, and my mom. I wasn’t ready to reveal all the dark and ugly things in my past. Sadie: Of course.
Could I leave it at that? Would he let me get away with it? My room was dark. The house was quiet. There was no one here but Tanner and me. I felt his presence with me even if we were only communicating through text.
Tanner: Really?
He wanted more. I normally wouldn’t answer but I wanted to give him something. It was like our lunch at the Lime Café or dinner at his house. When he asked me things, I opened up despite my reservations—I was drawn to him.
Sadie: Yeah, I have my mom and Kristen.
Tanner: So, you have your boss?
Sadie: She’s my age. She’s a friend. Her sister and her friends had tried to talk her out of hiring me, but she did despite their objections. That had warmed her to me more than anything.
Tanner: And you count on your mom?
I was used to hiding the truth—the reality of my life—my childhood. I didn’t want anyone to know that she was neglectful, distracted, and more interested in whatever man was in her life than me. Or that she’d stolen from me. Moms were supposed to protect you—not take from you. But I wanted to be honest without criticizing my mother.
Sadie: Well, to be fair, I don’t need anything. I take care of myself. I was the parent in that relationship.
Tanner: That’s commendable, but everyone needs someone.
Why was he pushing? It was like he knew all my secrets before I said them. My fingers flew over my keys before I could stop myself.
Sadie: Do they?
As I waited for him to type a message, I jumped when it buzzed with an incoming call instead, not believing that Tanner was calling me for the first time. Not to discuss the fundraiser, not to discuss Rylan, but to talk to me. “Yeah?” I breathed into the phone.
“Hey,” his low voice rumbled through the speaker.
Why did his voice have to be so sexy? I pulled my covers over me while I settled back on the pillows and closed my eyes.
“What can I do for you, Tanner?” My voice sounded husky.
He chuckled and the sound skidded over my skin. Goosebumps erupted in its wake. “Nothing. I was calling to talk about what I can do for you.”
If he were here, I’d ask him to touch me, to kiss me, as he whispered those same words into my ear. I quivered at the thought of his fingers on my body, his breath on my neck, his lips on my ear. I couldn’t answer him because suddenly I wanted everything from him.
“You intrigue me,” he said.
I sighed, the intimate moment broken. He wanted what everyone wanted—facts, information, a peek into what I was hiding. Ten years had passed, but people still wanted to know what had happened that night—even now I heard whispers in the studio’s waiting room and the grocery store, especially when I first returned home. But telling the truth wouldn’t change anything—not for me. “I don’t want to intrigue you.”
He chuckled again. “Trust me. I got that.”
“So, why are you bothering?” I didn’t want him asking questions. I didn’t want him concerned about me, but at the same time, it was addictive. My heart clenched at the idea of pushing him away.
“Something tells me you’re worth it.”
I snorted. I bit my lip before I said anything more because my reaction was revealing—I didn’t think I was worth it. He seemed to be in tune with my thoughts and feelings in a way no one had before.
“You are.” His tone was confident and sure.
His words flowed through my body—leaving lightness and hope. The fact that he thought I was worth it made me want to open up to him. To give him a piece of what he was asking. I closed my eyes and tried to remember a time when someone was there for me—a time when I felt worthy.
Tanner was silent as if waiting for me to continue.
“It would be nice to have someone in my corner.” I missed that with a yearning so strong my chest ached. Tanner was making me want things I didn’t deserve. When he found out the truth, he wouldn’t want anything to do with me. A police officer wouldn’t understand why I hadn’t cooperated with an investigation. Dennis should have been convicted of sexual assault and served more time than he did. He didn’t even have to register as a sex offender.
“You have me.” He cleared his throat as if the weight of that statement had gotten to him too.
My mind fixated on those three words—you have me. Did I? Tanner was slowly cracking open my chest, my heart, and asking me to let him in. But what would be the result? Did he want a friend, another person who cared for his daughter, someone he could trust, or did he want all of that and something more?
“Thank you for helping me with Rylan today.”
“It was nothing.”
“It wasn’t nothing. I think you understand how important it is to have people to depend on. You said you take care of yourself and you don’t need anyone, but what you didn’t say speaks volumes.”
The words I wanted to say stuck in my throat. How did he see me when no one else did?
“Why did you stay in town—you know, after everything that happened?”
A chill ran through me and my tone was short and clipped. Was he referring to Dennis? If so, that meant he knew something, if not everything. “I left for college and law school, but I came back because my mother needed me.”
“Ah.” He didn’t say anything else and I hoped he’d connected the dots between my attendance at Al-Anon and my mother without me having to say it. Maybe the realization would bring us closer together since we both had loved ones abusing alcohol.
When I didn’t offer any more information, he said softly, “You can let me in. I won’t betray you.”
&nbs
p; “You can’t promise me that.” My voice was resigned because everyone did. He was no exception. No matter how attractive. No matter how silky smooth his voice. No matter how he affected me. I couldn’t trust anyone—not entirely.
“You don’t believe me, but I hope you’ll give me a chance to prove myself.”
I’d never wanted anything more.
Sadie
I drove home after an Al-Anon meeting feeling confident I could set boundaries with my mother and detach from her and her situation. I parked my car in the driveway of my unusually dark house. The lamp or kitchen light was always on, whether my mom was watching or passed out in front of the TV when I got home. She never used her room at night but would sleep in her bed during the day. It was a pattern that hadn’t changed since I had moved back. Was she asleep, or was it something worse? Had she finally drunk too much and made herself sick?
I pulled off my gloves as I ran to the door and unlocked it with shaky hands. “Mom!” I called as I shoved open the door. No answer. I flipped on the light. The room was empty. Maybe she’d gone to bed—panic coursed through me as I wondered why that might be. I sprinted down the hall and yanked open the door.
Fighting my gag reflex from the putrid smell, I turned on the light. Mom was passed out in the bed on sheets filled with her vomit. I pushed off the blankets and felt her bloated stomach. Touching her forehead, she was burning up. I shook her shoulders and called her name, but she didn’t react.
Distended belly. Fever. I knew from experience these meant a 9-1-1 call even if we had no money for an ambulance. I picked up my phone.
The woman’s voice steadied me as she went through a litany of questions—is she breathing, is her airway clear, can you shake her shoulder, did she respond, and is the front door unlocked?
I ran to the door and unlocked it, angry that she’d done this to herself. I returned to Mom, who appeared unchanged and pulled the vomit-soaked sheets off of her. I startled when the front door opened. “She’s back here.”