Snagging a hoodie off the floor, I darted out the door. As I tore down the stairs, fear gripped every inch of my body.
I launched myself off the third step from the bottom and landed with a thud.
“Mom, are you okay?” Maggie said as I spun in a circle.
Ellie giggled. “Did you just legit fly?”
All three of my kids were sitting at the kitchen table with Chloe, Gus, Simone, and a massive box of donuts.
“Your mom needs coffee.” Chloe pushed her chair back and stood.
“Why is it nine a.m.?” I asked, looking from face to face, still trying to make sense of reality.
“Well, Mom, it’s because the earth makes one full rotation on its axis every twenty-four hours,” Ellie snarked.
“We got here early, and the kids said you were still sleeping,” Chloe explained. “Simone wanted to see you all before we head home.”
I nodded, though my heart still raced.
“I’ve never slept this late before,” I said
“Shocker.” Chloe chuckled. “Most people find sleeping in restful. I didn’t realize it would make you more anxious.”
“No. Sorry. Thank you.” I turned to Gus, who was wiping melted chocolate off Simone’s face, including him in that sentiment too.
“I just.” I deflated. “Sorry.”
Chloe handed me a coffee cup. “How about you drink this and get dressed? I want to chat a bit before we take off.”
Her tone was too calm, too nice. It made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
She pushed me toward the stairs. “Go.”
After a quick shower and clean clothes, I came back down. Chloe was alone, the kids having gone outside to play something called Infection Tag, Gus tagging along, helping Simone keep up with her older cousins.
Chloe took my coffee cup and refilled it. When she handed it back to me, she said, “We need to talk.”
My heart lurched. Was the guilt plaguing me that obvious?Did she know I’d snuck out of my home last night? That I’d fooled around with Josh? Did I have that orgasm blush that makeup companies were always trying to package and sell?
“I had a missed call yesterday,” she said. “From Ava.”
My throat tightened, making it difficult to breathe.
“I called her back this morning. She had news.”
I clutched my coffee cup to my chest, wishing I could disappear. I didn’t know what she’d say, but I knew I didn’t want to hear it.
“Donny is up for parole,” she said gently. “His hearing is next month.”
My knees nearly gave out on me, but she caught me before I sank to the floor.
“Listen,” she said, guiding me toward the couch. “Parole isn’t guaranteed. Hopefully they won’t grant it. But if they do, there will be conditions, and Ava will file a petition for maximum monitoring. And obviously the restraining orders are still in place.”
I thought we had nearly a year of freedom left. Enough time for us to heal and get our fresh start. We’d just gotten here. We were still acclimating. He couldn’t just get out.
“Breathe,” Chloe commanded, and I did, having been conditioned long ago to obey her. “He was going to get out eventually. And all my sources tell me he’s been a model prisoner. Going to AA meetings and anger management. He’s not going to bother you.”
I shook my head. He would. I knew Donny Whittier better than I knew myself. I’d spent more than a decade walking on eggshells and trying to predict his moods, and all that work had made me an expert.