by Lea Coll
I leaned against the doorway to the studio. Music played in the background, but I was surprised to see Sadie on the floor facing Rylan.
“You think I can be a ballerina one day?” Rylan’s head tilted as she considered Sadie.
Sadie’s eyes softened and she brushed a piece of hair out of Rylan’s face. “I think you can do whatever you put your mind to, sweet girl.”
My throat tightened at her use of the phrase sweet girl. Sadie said the same words when she’d read a bedtime story to her weeks ago and it pinched my heart each time I heard it. Finding a woman who loved and adored Rylan as much as I did wasn’t on my radar when I walked Rylan into dance class weeks ago. Despite my mom’s interference, I wasn’t looking for anyone, but Sadie fell into our lives at a time I needed her love and support.
I finally cleared my throat, hating to interrupt, but at the same time not wanting to be caught observing. “Are you ready to go upstairs and unpack?”
Rylan jumped up and ran to me.
Sadie stood and brushed off her pants. “Of course.”
I followed her outside and waited for her to lock up the studio.
Sadie glanced at the now-empty truck beds. “You should have gotten us earlier. I could have helped with the smaller stuff.”
“It was easier with the three of us carrying stuff. Rylan would have been underfoot otherwise.” There was no way I would have let her help with the guys around. It wasn’t necessary. Rylan bounded up the steps, excited to see Luke and Logan. Knowing they’d keep her occupied for a few minutes, I stopped Sadie before she could ascend the stairs with a hand on her elbow.
“I’m here for you now. I want to help you. I want to be there for you. You can count on me.” I knew this wouldn’t be easy for Sadie, but I was laying the groundwork to be the man for her. The one that was always by her side and in her world just like she would be for me.
“Thank you for this morning—this time with Rylan. She’s an amazing little girl. You’re so lucky.”
I saw nothing but sincerity in her eyes as I cupped the back of her head and tilted her face toward mine. I’d expected an argument—for her to say she doesn’t need me or anyone. What I hadn’t expected was her thanking me for time with my daughter. It was the most perfect thing she could have said. “No, thank you for being in Rylan’s life—in my life.”
I kissed her softly, hearing the rumble of feet above us in the apartment and the sound of Rylan’s giggles. I wanted to stay in this dark stairwell with her. I wanted to keep this feeling of completeness with me forever. I wanted to tell her what she meant to me—that I was falling for her. Instead, I kissed her one more time lightly on the lips before taking her hand and leading her up the steps to her new apartment.
Luke swung Rylan into the air, her squeals echoing in the empty room. When he placed her gently on the floor, they turned toward us.
“I know I already said this—but thank you for helping,” Sadie said to Logan and Luke.
“Sure thing,” Logan said.
“Any time, but I’m going to head out,” Luke said.
“Yeah, me too,” Logan said.
I followed them down the steps to their trucks. “I appreciate you acting as back-up this morning.”
“No problem. I’m glad you called me. She seems great with Rylan—what little I saw, anyway. I hope she’s good for you guys,” Luke said.
“Thanks.” I hoped so too. I hoped she felt the same way I did. That she wasn’t thinking of us as a temporary stop before she found the guy she could see herself with—one without the baggage of a child and ex. I’d briefly dated someone after Bree but as soon as she found out about Rylan, she’d said she didn’t want to date someone with a child.
After saying goodbyes with plans to meet up for a beer sometime this week, I headed back upstairs and found the girls in the bedroom with Sadie ripping open one of the boxes.
“You don’t have to stick around and help me unpack.”
“I want to.” She didn’t have much to unpack.
“You promised I could help.” Rylan’s lip popped out.
Sadie ruffled her hair. “That’s right. I did and you’re a great helper.”
We unpacked her bedding to make the bed and put her clothing into the drawers. She needed more things.
The living room was empty except for her boxes of books and there was nothing in the kitchen. Where was she going to sit? There were no boxes marked with kitchen plates or utensils. “Do you need to buy some more furniture or kitchen stuff?”
“Oh, that’s okay. I’ll get more stuff later.”
When Rylan reached the end of her enthusiasm for moving, we decided to get lunch and head to the park.
Rylan took both of our hands as we walked to the Lime Café and ordered sandwiches, drinks, and chips. I carried a box of our food to the fountain park in the center of town. I handed a few coins to Rylan, who ran ahead of us to toss them into the fountain.
I sat next to Sadie on a bench facing the fountain. I handed a sub, chips, and water to Sadie. She placed it in her lap but didn’t make a move to eat.
“I’ve never introduced my mother to anyone. That’s not what this morning was—I wasn’t bringing you home to meet my mother, but it felt like that. I don’t need her approval but it felt the same as you introducing me to your parents. Like this is the beginning of something—”
“Treating your mother with respect is something any friend or boyfriend should do, Sadie.”
She sighed as she unwrapped her sub. “I’ve never let people in. I don’t trust easily, I guess.”
“You can trust me.”
Her eyes were uncertain but she smiled and nodded.
I pointed at Rylan. “This doesn’t work unless we have trust. I included Rylan today because I trust you. I want to get to know you better. I think we could have a future together.”
“I’m honored that you allowed me to share your time with Rylan.”
I squeezed her hand before unwrapping my sub. “Well, get used to it because I like you, Sadie Cole.” I smiled and winked.
She laughed. “I like you too.”
“And I intend to be around for a while.” Maybe forever.
Sadie
“Did you see the paper?” Kristen asked as soon as I walked into the studio. She slid her phone across the counter to me. The bold headline read: Ten Year Anniversary of Dennis Moore’s Release from Jail and Annabelle Bray’s Death—with the smaller subtitle: Did Annabelle Bray Commit Suicide?
My stomach dropped and I pushed her phone away. “I don’t want to see this.”
“I thought you should see it because this is going to get people talking again, and you should be prepared.” Kristen left her phone on the counter in front of me.
“I don’t want to be prepared. I never want to deal with this again.” I wanted to bury my head under the blankets in my new apartment and not come out until the gossip faded. Unfortunately, this story never really went away. It was always there—the questions in other people’s eyes when they saw me, the gossip I’d overhear, the occasional news story. I’d been so happy this weekend—I’d envisioned a future with Tanner and now the past came crashing back, pummeling me into despair.
Not much happened in a small town, but when it did, it never went away. Especially when everyone had their theory about what happened and none of it placed me in a good light.
I knew it was a bad idea, but my eyes drifted down to the article and I scrolled cautiously down. Do we know what happened that night? Was Dennis Moore guilty? He was convicted of second-degree assault and served less than a year in jail. Shortly after his release, Annabelle Bray died. Here’s what Annabelle’s mother, Robin Bray, had to say: What I want to know is why Sadie Cole never came forward. Instead, she kept quiet, and Dennis Moore was convicted of a lesser offense. He doesn’t have to register as a sex offender and is free to hurt someone else.
“I get that it’s the tenth anniversary of his release but why drum this up again? H
e was convicted. Annabelle’s dead. Why?” My heart thudded painfully, and I felt lightheaded.
“I think Annabelle’s mother, Robin, is pushing it. Did you read the end? She said her daughter was depressed after the trial, became addicted to her pills, and overdosed.”
“That’s why I left.” The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and a chill ran through me. I wanted to go back to my apartment, pack, and drive until no one knew my name—no one knew me.
Kristen watched me with concern.
“What would be accomplished by me speaking now? He was convicted and served his time.” What would it matter if the truth came out, other than to make me responsible for Dennis’s plea, his short sentence, and Annabelle’s suffering?
The door to the studio opened and parents walked in before Kristen could answer.
I handed Kristen’s phone back to her. “I better get ready for class.”
Kristen stopped me with a hand on my arm. “If you need to talk, I’m here.”
“Thanks, Kristen.” I swallowed back the tears which threatened. I’d never had someone genuinely interested in hearing me talk about that night from a state of understanding and support. Would that have made a difference back then?
She nodded and released me. I turned to see Tanner taking off Rylan’s jacket. The thought of him reading that article sent familiar shame and guilt settling like cement in my stomach. He was focused on Rylan, so I didn’t approach him. I wasn’t ready for his reaction.
I readied the dance studio and pushed play on the music before standing at the door to the studio calling the students in for class. My eyes scanned the parents’ faces as I tried to determine if they’d read the article. Would anyone confront me?
Rylan was the last one in, giving me a quick hug before running into the room.
Tanner stood there in his uniform. “My parents are going to pick her up again, but I wanted to ask you if you wanted to come to Thanksgiving dinner at my parents’ place? It’s low key—just my parents, Rylan, and me.”
The relief caused my whole body to sag. He hadn’t read the article yet. He still looked at me with admiration, and maybe even love? When had anyone been nervous to ask me out—to ask me to dinner with his family? I hadn’t had a real Thanksgiving since my grandparents left. There wasn’t anyone to share the sentiment of love and thanks with.
With one invitation, it was within my reach and I wanted to hold onto this moment. With the assault fresh on everyone’s mind, there was no way this could continue but I’d take one day—one more delusion that this man and his daughter could be mine. “That sounds really nice, Tanner. Thank you for inviting me.”
A sigh of relief escaped his mouth as he pulled me out of the doorway and the view of my students, dropping a chaste kiss on my lips. Warmth rushed through me that he’d kissed me in front of the parents. I closed my eyes briefly, committing it to memory because once everyone saw that article, he’d back off—he wouldn’t want to be seen with me.
“You want to come by tonight? We can watch a movie and relax?” He’d pulled me into his arms when he kissed me, and he hadn’t let me go.
“Sure.” I wanted every second I could get with Tanner—the feel of his strong arms around me, his lips on mine, and the sweet rumble of his voice each night when he called to check on me. I wanted to hold on to what we had for as long as I could.
“I’ll see you later,” he said softly, turning to leave.
I admired him as he walked away, sure and confident in his uniform. I ignored the curious stares and closed the studio door to begin class.
Thanksgiving was only a couple of days away. Was it too much to ask that Tanner wouldn’t hear about or read the article until after the holiday? I could enjoy one perfect holiday with Tanner and his family. I’d get Thanksgiving but I didn’t delude myself into thinking I’d be around for Christmas—whether that was Tanner’s choice or mine. We couldn’t continue like this—not with the weight of Dennis Moore’s actions hanging like an albatross around my neck—taking me down all over again. I’d never be free of him.
After class, I tidied up as the parents readied their kids to leave and worry crept in that Deborah would rescind Tanner’s invitation to Thanksgiving.
“Did Tanner invite you over for Thanksgiving?” Deborah asked as I grabbed some books that lay on the floor by their chair.
“Yes, he did. Thank you so much for allowing me to be a part of your day.” When I thought of spending that day with his family, my heart filled with a longing so fierce it threatened to burst out of my chest.
“Of course. We’d love to have you.”
“You’re coming to Thanksgiving?” Rylan asked. “Can you watch the parade with me?”
“I’d love to, sweet girl.” I crouched down to pull her in for a hug. We said our good-byes and I headed to the counter where Kristen waited.
“So, looks like you and Tanner are getting pretty close.”
“Yeah, things picked up after parents’ night.”
“And you’re invited to Thanksgiving.” A knowing smile spread over her lips.
“Yes. I’m excited. I haven’t celebrated Thanksgiving in a long time.” The idea of spending Thanksgiving with Tanner’s family made me wonder again if I should try to connect with my grandparents.
“That’s great that he wants to include you with his family. Things must be going well.”
I smiled. The idea that Tanner wanted to include me in his family’s holiday caused my heart to ache. It was more than I ever dared to hope for—a family, surrounded by people who cared about me.
She sobered, playing with some paperwork on the desk. “Are you worried about the article ruining things between you guys?”
It brought everything back for me—the guilt and shame. My stomach was churning. Did I want to stay and subject myself to the gossip, the speculation, and accusations again? I’d never escape it if I didn’t leave. “How could I not? I’m wondering if I’ll ever escape the questions. Should I move somewhere else, where no one knows my name or Dennis Moore’s?”
“Don’t make a rash decision before you talk to him.”
“I haven’t even told him everything. What if he wants nothing to do with me once I tell him?” Maybe I should talk to him before he finds out from somewhere else.
“That man is on his way to falling in love with you. I see it in the way he watches you when you aren’t paying attention and how he kissed you in front of everyone.”
Could I talk to Tanner? I’d only told a friend in college and she’d betrayed my trust by telling everyone in the dorm. Would he think differently of me? Would he want nothing to do with me? It would hurt, but it was almost expected. If things didn’t work out with Tanner—I’d leave. Hopefully, I could withstand everything that was going to be dredged up with that article before I did.
“Thanks. It’s nice to have someone to talk to about this stuff.” Talking to Kristen about the most intimate details of my life scared me but it got easier each time I did it.
I texted Tanner as I was leaving the studio to let him know I was on my way. I needed to see him, wanting his strong arms around me even if the thought of talking to him about everything made me feel ill.
I knew I should wait until after Thanksgiving to talk to him but I couldn’t keep him in the dark anymore. Not when he’d be affected by that article. I owed him an explanation.
I knocked lightly when I arrived, not wanting to wake Rylan if she was already in bed. Tanner opened the door, the house quiet. “Hey, come in.”
Stepping inside, I asked, “Is Rylan already asleep?”
“Yeah, she was exhausted and I—” His eyes filled with sadness so acute I had to look away. He’d seen the article.
I pressed the heel of my hand to my chest to stop the sudden burst of pain. Even if he wanted to, I couldn’t subject him to my life—the endless questions and speculation—the shame, the humiliation. What kind of a person would I be to expose the people I loved to this?
&n
bsp; “I wanted to talk to you about something.” His soft voice barely permeated the torment of thoughts that immobilized my body in the doorway.
This conversation would change everything, and I wasn’t sure I could form the words to tell him—not when I’d never told anyone before.
Tanner’s eyes softened and he took my hand to lead me into the family room, sitting on the sectional his knee drawn up facing me. “There was an article in the paper about the assault.”
I swallowed, trying to clear the lump in my throat. What should I say? I’m sorry you’re a part of this by being with me? I’m sorry any of it happened? I’m sorry I never came forward. “I’m sorry for everything.”
“You’ve seen it too?” His eyes were full of concern for me and I wondered how that would change when I told him the truth.
“Kristen showed me.” The thought of exposing my greatest shame to him shook me to my core. I couldn’t look at him. I pulled my leg slightly away so we weren’t touching. I didn’t deserve any comfort from him.
“Are you okay?”
His question startled me. I’d expected him to come right out and ask me my side of the story, not if I was okay. Shouldn’t I be asking if he was okay? How he wanted to proceed? “Honestly? I’m not sure.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” His eyes were full of concern and he placed his hand on my knee, steadying me.
“We have to.” I wiped my hands on my leggings, praying for the courage to tell him what I hadn’t had the courage to do since college. “The story’s going to stir everything up again. People will be talking about it. I’ll hear whispers at the grocery store, the courthouse, and the studio and if I’m lucky, no one will approach me.”
That was always the worst. People felt they had the right to tell me what they thought to my face—like they had a right to express every feeling and thought that passed through their minds when they didn’t know everything. They didn’t know the truth. I pressed my hands together in my lap to stop them from shaking.