She shakes her head. “Why would she do that? And why lie?” She wraps her arms around her waist. “All this time, I thought it was my fault he left.”
“Honey, no.” I move toward her, unable to keep my distance when her reality is crumbling. “When parents stop getting along, it’s never the child’s fault. Uncoupling is hard and messy, and adults don’t always think clearly with their feelings hurt and ramped up. And it’s the children that pay the price. I don’t know your mother, so I can’t speak for her. But I know your father would do whatever it took to keep you safe. That meant following her rules.”
“Why … why would Mom do that?” Her shoulders shake with sobs.
“I don’t know, honey. Maybe your mother was worried about your safety.” I pull her into my arms.
“She made him seem so awful. I hated him growing up. She always reminded me that it was just us, and he didn’t c-care.” The picture she paints is an ugly one. “Didn’t want us, and we were lucky to have M-Mark.”
“How long have they been married?” I ask gently as she soaks my blouse.
“S-Seven years.”
“Does he hit you?” I whisper.
“What?” She pulls back from me. “No. I bet he’s too much of a coward to do that. He doesn’t have to raise his hand to make me feel like crap.” The words muffled by my shirt raise red flags.
“And your mom?” I prod gently.
She snorts, pulling away to swipe at her eyes. “Runs a tight ship. She has very clear thoughts on who are family, and we all have to toe the line. It’s all about presenting a pretty, smiling face to the world. Mark’s all for it. He owns a car dealership, and they sell the nuclear family hard. In our small town, the Prestons are well-known.” Sneering, she gets herself under control. “I shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve seen what she’s capable of over the years. M-Maybe I’ve known her stories were full of lies for a long time. I came here to see for myself. Part of me wanted to be proved wrong.”
I feel for the girl who’s been under her narcissistic mother’s thumb for too long.
“A man doesn’t keep a home he built with his family and keep it exactly as it was if he doesn’t care,” I whisper simply.
“I-I can’t go back to that life. It was a prison. I’ll never be the daughter she wants me to be, and I’m t-tired of trying.”
“I think if you told your father, he’d move heaven and earth to ensure you stay here.” I swallow. “With him.”
“You think so?”
“I know.”
Her stomach growls.
“When’s the last time you ate?”
“Six hours ago, at the last Greyhound station. I caught a bus from San Diego. Paying in cash kept me from being traced.”
“Smart girl.” I redirect her attention as I take in our conversation. The pressure she’s under must be tremendous. “I don’t know about you, but when I need distraction I watch television. What do you say we make a salad and find some trash television to make us feel better about our lives?”
She gives a weak laugh. “Yeah. I think I can handle that.”
“Truce for now?” I hold out my hand.
“Okay. Truce.”
She shakes my hand, and I exhale. Crisis number one avoided. “Go ahead and take a minute to freshen up. Do you have any allergies?”
“Not really, I’m not a fan of raw onions though.” She wrinkles her small nose, and I laugh.
“I’ll leave them out of the salad. Grilled chicken, okay?”
“Perfect.” Nodding, she grabs the handle of her bag, and moves down the hallway. I hear her gasp. “He kept it exactly like I remember it.”
Hearing a car pull up, I grab the backpack and pull out the 9 millimeter. I walk to the window and relax when I see a Sinners’ prospect step out of a black sedan. The smiley face under his prospect patch reassures me. I put away the weapon.
* * *