I touched his face. My big brother who I had always looked up to, adored, and revered. The one who was taking the chance, too.
“I know you would, Darius, and there is no way to express my gratefulness for that. For what you’ve done. For what you’re sacrificing. And I’m terrified the only thing I’m doing is putting you and Mimi in danger. That I might be responsible for—”
A swell of sorrow crested. My breath caught on the snare of it.
Tight and hot.
A hole so deep it would never be filled.
It was my fault.
It was my fault.
I nearly buckled with the grief.
“You’re not putting us in any danger,” he insisted. “We’re safe. Promise you.”
I swallowed the torment, my thickened tongue rushing over my lips so I could get this out.
“What happened…it’s going to hurt…haunt me forever…”
No, there were no actual words. No way to verbally express what this kind of loss felt like. The empty pit that festered.
I forced myself to continue. “You convinced me to come here. To start a new life. That it was time. And because of that, I’m looking forward for the first time in years. For the first time, I’m not just surviving, I’m living. And I’m so thankful for you. So thankful you love us so much that you would stand in front of anything to protect us. Thankful you moved here to create a safe place for us. But you also can’t stand in the way. I know I’ve made a million mistakes and I’m sure I’ll make a million more, but I have to do this, Darius, and you can’t freak out every time I step out the door. Not if I’m actually going to live.”
His expression twisted in grief. “I know, and that’s all I want for you—for you to live. Free. Without fear. Without ever havin’ to look over your shoulder.”
Affection pulled a soggy smile to my mouth. “I know you do, and I want that, too, but none of that is your responsibility.”
“The hell, it isn’t,” he grumbled.
He was such a protector, too.
I forced some lightness into my voice. “Thank you for the ride, Darius. I’ll figure the car out. Don’t worry about it. Now, you’d better get to work. Your boss seems like he might be the type to get grumpy.”
Darius didn’t laugh.
His lips pinched, and he swallowed hard as I unlatched the door and started to slide out. Before I made it to standing, he reached out and took me by the hand to stop me. His words were razors. “Just…stay away from Jud, Salem. He’s not the kind of guy you can trust.”
Sadness slipped beneath my skin. “Don’t worry, Darius. I don’t trust anyone.”
Only this tiny family.
I stepped from the truck just as the front door banged open and Juniper came bounding out. She jumped off the single step and raced down the sidewalk to meet me.
“Mommy! There you are finally! Jeez louise, doncha know we got the worries about you? Where did you go? I thought you got lost all the way in the rain and floated all the way down to the ocean and you had to live with the dolphins.”
Love squeezed my ribs in a fist.
Crushing.
So intense it nearly dropped me to my knees as my little girl came flying my direction.
Juniper was nothing but giggles and smiles and black, messy hair that had been twisted into two wild buns on the sides of her head.
Pink, chubby cheeks and the tiniest, sweetest mouth.
She threw herself into my arms, already knowing I would catch her, that I would sweep her off her feet and swing her around before I brought her to my chest and hugged her tight.
Our cheeks were pressed together as I inhaled her sweet plum scent. “Get lost and live with the dolphins? Not a chance. I will always find you.”
Behind us, I caught sight of Darius pulling away. His eyes were on us. Staunch protectiveness in his gaze.
And I got it…got that he’d felt helpless for all those years, and now that we were here, he would do anything for us.
But he had no idea what I’d been through. I guessed in the end, I had to respect that. For years, he’d wanted to fight and, now that he had the chance, he couldn’t do anything but come alongside me.
Another giggle slipped from Juniper’s lips, her little nose scrunched as she edged back enough to see my face. Her dark, dark eyes were the same blue as mine.
But hers?
They burned with innocence. With the hope and belief I wanted to give her.
“Because I’m your world, right, Mommy?”
I held my five-year-old close.
My life.
My source.
My purpose to get up each morning for the last four years and fight. My purpose to go on.
“That’s right, Juni Bee, no matter where you go, I will always find you.”
I spun her around. She squeezed her little arms over her chest as she laughed and squirmed in my arms.
Devotion erupted from that crater.
The one that would forever be carved inside me.
“Even if I’m all the way up high in the sky?” Her tinkling voice danced around my ears and seeped into my soul.
It was all a tease. The game we played. How far would I go to find her? To protect her?
Little did she know, there was no distance because I would go to the very, very end.
“That’s right. Even if you’re up all the way high in the sky.”
“Even to Mars?” She flung herself back at that, her arms outstretched, her face lifted toward the cloudless sky.
I could feel her bright, bright spirit burn in my arms.
A precious treasure I held in my hands.
“Even to Mars.”
She swung herself up to grab onto my shoulders. She wore a gigantic grin. “That’s because you love me all the way to the stars.”
“That’s right…all the way to the stars.”
To the moon.
To the sun.
My guiding light.
My one purpose.
I felt the movement at the doorway, and I looked up to find Mimi standing there. Her weathered face was full of worry and relief.
My grandmother was eighty-seven, short and heavyset, and the strongest woman I knew.
The years might have blurred the edges of her youth, but they hadn’t robbed her of her vitality.
“Well, there you are, young lady,” she said. With the tone of it, I was pretty sure I was in trouble with her, too.
I held Juniper close as I trudged that way. “I hope you got my messages. I hated that I couldn’t make it home.”
“When my phone started working, I saw the text that your car broke down and you were with a friend.”
She said friend like an accusation.
We both knew I didn’t have any of those.
“Didn’t mean I wasn’t worried about you.” She quirked a concerned brow.
“I know. I’m sorry. My car just died.” I waved a flustered hand in the air, another bolt of distress lighting me through. The last thing I’d needed was another issue.
“Told you that thing was about to go kaput.”
“You weren’t wrong.”
She leaned against the doorway and crossed her arms over her chest. “Which is why I didn’t want you out gallivanting by yourself last night. Told you a storm was a’comin’。 My poor aching bones are at least good for something.”
Gallivanting?
Not even close.