Page 32 of Hidden Waters

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I let the tears fly for a few more minutes before trying to rein them back in. I dug my fingernails into my palms, hoping the bite of pain would clear the rest away. I tried counting in for three and then out for three as I breathed. Slowly, the crying stopped.

A flash of anger followed, taking me by surprise. I wasn’t weak. I’d been through hell and come out the other side. Yet here I was, falling apart because there were things I didn’t know or hadn’t experienced. I might not know everything I needed to at this very moment, but I knew how to learn. I could devour books and force myself to accept help when offered. The only way to change my circumstances was to keep on walking, even when it was hard. Even when I felt less than.

I pushed to my feet and went into the kitchen. Within minutes, I had my favorite tea steeping and a few cookies on a plate. I returned to the living room and set to work.

I stacked everything into piles. Computer books. Art books. Notes from my first day. The phone. My journal. A pen.

I took a sip of the jasmine tea and stared at my assortment. The first thing I had to do was break it down into manageable steps and then decide what was most important. My eyes drifted to the journal. It was a tattered and torn clothbound piece that I’d been toting around with me for the last year—a dumping ground for all the things swirling around in my head.

I lifted the journal onto my lap and picked up the pen. If I wanted things to change, I needed to have a destination in mind. Then, I could figure out how to get there.

10

BECKETT

I stepped into the house, moving quickly to silence the alarm. I stood, listening for a moment. Only silence greeted me. Dinner had lasted longer than I’d thought, and it was after nine now. Addie might be asleep. The lights on in every room downstairs had me weaving through the house to check.

I glanced in the office, circled the kitchen, and then made my way to the living room. My steps slowed, and I came to a stop in front of the couch. Addie was curled up on her side, her hand pillowed under her head. A notebook lay open on the cushion next to her.

For the first time, I let myself stare without fear of being discovered. I watched as her deep, even breaths fluttered the strands of hair that had fallen into her face. That spun gold, swirling around, almost created a crown. The pink of deep sleep stained her cheeks. Her brow was furrowed slightly as if she were working something out in her unconscious state. And those perfect bow lips parted slightly. I couldn’t help but wonder if they were as soft as they looked.

I bit the inside of my cheek. Not what I needed to be thinking about right now. I bent to shake Addie’s shoulder when my gaze caught on the open notebook.

Where I want to go…

I should’ve stopped right there. Whatever words followed weren’t mine to read. I couldn’t help myself, though. I so badly wanted to know more about this woman.

Master computers

Sell one of my bags to someone who doesn’t know me.

Get my ears pierced

Get my GED

My stomach soured at that. Her asshole of a father hadn’t even let Addie finish high school. There was a special place in hell f

or men who gave their all to keep their children down.

Get my driver’s license

Get a cat

I let out a soft groan. “You couldn’t go for a dog? That, I could live with,” I said softly.

Wear something that makes me feel beautiful.

My heart gave a small, stuttered step in my chest, and my focus drifted to the woman lying on the couch. I’d never seen more beauty. I’d seen a lot of the world, from big cities to thick jungles. I’d experienced countless cultures and all sorts of different ideals. But no one stole my breath the way Addie did. It wasn’t something that lived in her appearance, as much as I loved looking at her.

It was more. It was the strength that radiated from her. The kindness that pulled everyone in. The fight that no one could silence. And beyond all of that, it was how she saw more than everyone else around her. She paid attention to the tiny details and knew that they could be the most important.

I glanced back at the journal pages, and my jaw turned to granite.

Learn self-defense.

Find my mom and tell her how I feel.

The fact that those two things even had a place on her list had anger pulsing through my bloodstream.


Tags: Catherine Cowles Tattered & Torn Romance