Lead Me Home (Fight for Me #3)(67)

Sunshine.

“Yeah, man. You’re right. Just hope it makes a difference.”





21





Nikki





I pulled up in front of the small house. Even though I felt a huge amount of relief that Brenna and Kyle were safe, anxiety still held me captive.

My hands clammy.

Heart racing.

Stomach twisting with the kind of nausea I felt all the way into my soul.

Twilight held fast to the sky, a purpled gray that hugged the earth. The hurricane lamp hanging on the wall at the side of the front door welcomed the approaching night with a soft glow.

A single, mammoth tree stood proud in the yard. Broad branches stretched out as if they were arms of protection. Leaves green and dense and full.

Sucking in a deep breath, I cut the engine and stepped out onto the walkway, trying to keep my feet steady underneath me. Still, I wobbled as I headed up the sidewalk and climbed the steps leading to the porch.

Through the walls of the small house, I could hear the distorted sound of Penelope crying, the echo of movement around the house.

Quietly, I rapped at the door. Praying the gentle sound would let my sister know I wasn’t there to hurt her, but there was no chance I could respect her petition for me to turn a blind eye.

To pretend as if I hadn’t seen her at that meeting.

For the moment, it might have made it easier on her.

But in the end, I knew it’d be nothing less than a disservice.

Shuffling resonated from the other side of the door, the little cries getting louder the closer the footsteps came. A sheer drape covering the long, vertical window that ran the side of her door rustled. I could feel the way she froze.

Hesitated.

Debated.

The longest second passed. I knew that was all it was. But in it, all my sister’s reservations and fears pummeled me.

Stone after stone.

I was gasping by the time metal slid, the lock gave, and my sister peeked out the crack in the door.

She didn’t ask what I was doing there. She already knew.

“Sammie,” I whispered.

A tear leaked from her eye, and I could see that she was bouncing Penelope, holding her tight while the little thing fussed.

“I asked you not to come here like this. I can’t do this with you.”

A lump grew thick at the base of my throat. I tried to swallow around it, but still, the words stuck. “How could I ignore it? Ignore you?”

Old wounds lashed across her face. She seemed almost frantic as she dipped down and pressed a bunch of kisses to Penelope’s forehead, the tiny girl’s fussing increasing to an-all out squall, obviously hungry, little fists reaching for her mama.

Sammie bounced her a little more. “I’m not ready yet, Nikki. I’m not ready. Not yet.”

“But you went to that meeting looking for help. The last thing I want is to get in the way of that.”

A tremble ran through her, and my chest ached. God, I wanted to reach out and take it away. Hunt someone down. The hardest part was not knowing who or what I would be looking for.

I dug out the business card I’d tucked into the back pocket of my jeans and held it out for her. “Take this. Her name is Kathy. She’s been my mentor. She’s amazing. You can trust her, and I promise you that she won’t tell me a thing. Just . . . call her.”

With a shaky hand, Sammie reached out and took it, and then she wrapped her arm right back around her baby, card still in her hand.

Relief surged.

I took a step back. “I’m sorry . . . for whatever is going on. For whatever happened. But I want you to know whatever it is? I’m here for you whenever you’re ready to talk about it. You don’t ever have to be ashamed. And that is not the counselor talking . . . that is your sister, who will always, always be here for you. No matter what.”

Tears soaked her face. “Thank you.”

I nodded quickly and took a step back, letting her know I was giving her space, but that she wasn’t alone. “I’m . . . I’m just gonna go check on Mama and Grandma. It’s been too long since I stopped by there.”

Sammie blanched, but nodded.

I started for the steps before I paused to look at her over my shoulder. “Call her, Sammie. Please.”

“Soon,” she murmured, hugging her daughter close, eyes meeting mine intensely before she stepped back and snapped the door shut.

Leaving me standing there wanting to break through that wall of wood to find her. Fight for her. Hold her up.

All I could do was pray the little nudge I’d given her would be enough.



Headlights cast a dingy illumination on the secluded area as I wound down the bumpy dirt road. It was only a half-mile outside of town, but it felt like a million miles and another world away.

Trees lined the path on both sides and reached for the heavens where they had been planted along the barbed-wire fences that marked the property boundaries. It isolated the entire ten-acres from the country road that ran along the river and closed it off from the neighbors that sat on either side of the land that had been in my family for as long as anyone could remember.

Oh, my grandma could tell some stories about that. I never knew what was true or exaggerated or plain made up. What I did know was I’d spent what felt like half my childhood listening to her go on about them while my little sister and I baked and sewed and ran the property.