Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
I believe him. He will.
“A lot of money is going in the swear jar today,” I hear Johnny say to his sister and Daisy, who both nod.
I do believe Ryan, but the damage is already done. I have to hurry up here so I can rush home and get Daisy and me ready to leave. I have no idea where we’ll go, but I can’t stay here.
It’s not safe.
My phone rings, and when I pull it out of my pocket, I see that it’s Jerome, my P.I., and I swallow hard but answer.
“Someone fucked up,” he says in my ear. It’s loud enough that Brady can hear.
“Who is that?” Brady asks, but I shake my head.
“I know,” I reply softly. “I’ll handle it.”
“You need to get the fuck out of there, Abbi.”
“Who the fuck is that?” Brady demands.
“I’ll handle it,” I say again and click off, just as Chase approaches me, his face hard.
Oh, God.
“Abbi,” Chase says, but Brady puts his hand on Chase’s chest, holding him away.
“Mommy?”
“Jake,” I say, without taking my eyes off Chase. “Would you please take the little kids outside? Don’t go far, okay? And don’t take your eyes off of them. That’s very important.”
“Sure,” Jake says. “Come on, you little turds. Let’s go find some trouble.”
When they’re gone, Chase shakes his head at me, and Brady’s watching both of us.
“Abbi,” Brady says, his voice hard. “I need you to tell me what the fuck is going on.”
“First,” Chase says, holding up his phone. There’s a Missing Child image on the screen, with Daisy’s smiling face on it. “Tell me what the fuck this is about.” His voice is all cop. All ice.
Brady’s gaze whips to me, and he backs away as if he’s been burned.
My life is falling apart around me, and the panic attack wants to surface, but I swallow and then look around the room.
Erin and Remington, all of my friends, and their husbands. Millie. Their parents. They’re all staring at me, waiting for me to talk.
“Did you kidnap Daisy?” Brady demands.
“No.” It’s a whisper, and I rub my hands over my face before Joy jumps in.
“Come on, everyone,” Joy says. “Let’s sit in the dining room and talk this out. Abbi, it’s okay, darling. Let’s sit.”
I follow the others, and I sit at the end of the table so I can see everyone.
If I have to tell those who mean the most to me that I’ve been lying to their faces, I’m going to look them in the eyes while I do it.
Brady sits next to me, but he won’t touch me. He’s iced me out, and that alone shatters my heart.
“I’m going to tell you this story,” I say, my voice not wavering, my chin up. “And then I’m going to leave. Daisy and I will disappear.”
“Like. Fucking. Hell.” Brady’s voice is hard, bordering on mean. I reach for his hand, but he pulls back, out of reach.
“Most of you know that my mom died when I was young. I spent my teen years in foster care. It was not easy. I was emotionally, physically, and sexually abused.”
“Jesus,” Chase whispers as Polly covers her mouth with her hands.
“In high school, I made a friend named Nate Channing. He was from the other side of the tracks, so to speak, and he was super smart and really nice to me. Anyway, we were friends all through school. He’d help me with money, especially after I turned eighteen and left the foster home I was living in.
“This is relevant, trust me. When he was in college, we ended up getting pregnant.” I swallow hard. “On accident, of course. He wanted to do the right thing and marry me, and I agreed. His parents did not like me. Not at all. Not even a little.”
“Assholes,” Millie mutters.
“What I haven’t told you is that Nate had an older sister, Natalie. She died before he was born, but that death kind of sent his mom into a bad mental space. And when I had Daisy, my daughter looked a lot like Natalie.”
“Oh, shit,” Ryan says.
“Yeah. She was convinced that Daisy was her daughter. She went mad with it. She’d steal Daisy away and wouldn’t give her back, and we’d have to call the police. She tried suing us for custody several times. If it weren’t for Nate’s dad, she would have yanked all the money out from under us so we’d have no choice but to come to her for help.”
“She’s a fucking peach,” John says, his eyes narrowed.
“It gets worse.” I have to stand and pace, ignoring the look on Brady’s face as he watches me. He’s not cold now. He’s livid. And hurt. “Nate got sick right before Daisy turned two. Pneumonia that turned septic and killed him. The last thing I promised him was that his mother would never get her hands on our daughter.”