Page 34 of The Loves We Lost

“She is. We’ve just not had that conversation yet,” Miles says.

“I’m not staying with you.”

Miles carefully dislodges Avery, stands, and then picks her up. “Fine. You go stay in a hotel, but I’m going to put Avery to bed.”

Niro offers me the plate of cupcakes. “Want another one?” he asks.

“No. I want my daughter so we can leave.”

He chuckles. “Good luck with that.”

“Niro,” Catalina chastises. She places her hand on my arm. “You’re safe for tonight. Niro and I will go back to our place tonight so you can have our room here if you need a little distance from Bates.”

“We will?” Niro asks.

“We will. I just changed the sheets this morning. Bates can show you where the room is.”

The two of them leave, and I envy the way Niro slings his arm over Catalina’s shoulders as they walk. I want that kind of quiet intimacy with another person.

The walk to Miles’s room seems like an eternity. Words bombard me with the ferocity of a tornado. They’re churned up. Partial fragments of what I want to say. Things that might make the situation better. Things I know will make it worse. I feel like I’m trying to put together the pieces of a complex puzzle, and my brain won’t work properly.

“You’ve got a choice,” Miles says quietly when I finally reach him. His hand runs circles on Avery’s back, and I have to bite back tears that burn my nose and sting my eyes. This is how we should have been. “We can all sleep here.” He tips his head to where a small mattress with bedding has been put on the floornext to his bed. “Or we can go back to my house and sleep there. Your call.”

I look at my daughter, who still has her arms around Miles’s neck, even though her eyes are closed. “Let’s just put her to bed.”

Miles kneels by the mattress and gently lowers Avery to it. Her hair flops over the pillow. She mumbles as Miles tucks Mr. Dinosaur beneath her arm and tugs the light blanket over her. Then he surprises me by leaning forward and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

When he doesn’t stand, I place a hand on his shoulder. The need for comfort pours from him. It’s in the slouch of his shoulders and the heavy sigh. But Miles is quick to shrug it off.

“We should talk,” I say. It’s weak, I know, but I’ve never had to have a conversation like this before. It’s not like there’s a script.

“We should. But not when I’m so fucking angry.” He stands and walks to the door before turning to face me. “You stole years from me, and I’m not sure I can ever forgive you for that. We’ll talk in the morning. And don’t even think about leaving. The gates are locked, the perimeter protected, and you won’t get out of here unless I say so.”

And as the door clicks quietly shut behind him, I wonder what the hell I’ve done.

13

BATES

The following morning, before the sun has breached the horizon, sweat drips down my body, and air burns as I suck it in, but I don’t stop until the timer beeps, telling me it’s time to switch between jump rope and boxing. The handles of my rope clatter as they hit the ground, and I turn to pound the bag suspended from the ceiling in the area in the clubhouse we use as a gym.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

My fists hit the bag over and over, and with every stroke, I think the same thing.

I have a daughter.

Hands slide around the sandbag I’ve been beating the shit out of, and Niro’s face appears. He doesn’t say anything, just steadies the bag for me by leaning his shoulder against it while I take my anger out on something that won’t break.

I stayed in his room last night, alternating between controlling my anger and itching to return my room to check on Vi and Avery. As a result, I slept like shit.

When the timer buzzes, I go back to the jump rope. Single under, double under, crossing the rope in front of my body, tothe left side, to the right side. I bounce until my calves burn, until my lungs ache. And when the timer sounds ninety seconds later, I throw the rope to the ground and bend forward with my hands on my knees.

My water bottle appears in my peripheral vision, and I grab it like it’s a lifesaver.

I’m close to puking.

“You didn’t know then?” Niro says.