The Memory of You (Sanctuary Sound #1)(105)
Steffi slouched deeper into the chair. If only she could’ve remembered anything about those men, they might’ve been apprehended. Murky voices and the cold barrel of the gun pressed to her temple were all she could ever recall with clarity. They got away with everything because she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—remember more. “Maybe.”
“Well, then, maybe you should consider talking to that doctor.” Claire leaned forward.
Steffi’s phone rang. She peeked at the screen.
“Who is it?” Claire asked.
“Ryan.” Steffi tucked it back in her pocket.
Claire let loose a long sigh. “I know you think that ignoring this and moving on is being strong. But wouldn’t it show more strength to accept—and even grieve—what’s happened? Face it head-on with the therapist Ryan found. Don’t let it destroy what you’ve rebuilt with him. Forgive him. Lean on him. That’s not weak . . . that’s love.”
Steffi’s lungs burned as if a heat lamp had been fired up inside her chest. She dabbed her eyes and reached for the file. “I’ll think about it.”
Her friend had survived a gunshot wound that had robbed her of her identity. She’d overcome losing her healthy, vital body and accepted a slightly disfigured, disabled one in its place. She’d learned to deal with people’s pity. She’d found a way to claim some happiness. A career. Good relationships with friends and family. And even love, until Peyton interfered.
If Claire could overcome those setbacks, surely Steffi could come back from this. Somehow recognizing their similarities—sisters in survival—made her feel less alone and less pitiful.
Claire flashed an understanding smile. “Does chocolate help you think better? I always keep an emergency supply in my room, you know.”
Of course she did.
Steffi managed a genuine smile for the first time in more than twenty-four hours. “Chocolate sounds good.”
“I take it you looked over the proposal I sent you this morning?” Ryan lowered the speakerphone volume while seated in his car, staring down the lane toward the bungalow where Steffi’s van was parked.
This morning the ground had been encased in frost, sort of like his chest and heart since their argument three nights ago. She’d refused all his calls this week, but at least she hadn’t broken down or curled up into a ball and hidden away. He could march down the street and beg her to talk to him, but forcing her to do anything before she was ready felt like another violation.
“I’m surprised,” Val said. “I thought you wanted to avoid paying alimony.”
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, especially after our lunch conversation last weekend. About the sacrifices you made. The ways you tried to create a happy home. I didn’t give you my best.” The golden glow lighting the bungalow windows beckoned. What might Steffi do if he knocked on the door? He shifted in his seat and rested one hand on the steering wheel. “But I know and appreciate how hard you tried for so long. You deserve to know that much.”
He didn’t know what response he’d expected, but it hadn’t been silence.
“What would this mean for you and Emmy?” Val finally asked. “Will you be able to afford your own place?”
His gaze veered back to the bungalow. He’d never afford it now. Not that Steffi would even want him to have it after the way he’d handled everything. “I’ll stay with my mom awhile longer. I can probably get a better deal in December when fewer buyers are shopping for beach homes. There are some old places and town houses I might afford once I get my bearings.”
“Ryan.” A long sigh preceded her reply. “There was a time when I wanted to make you suffer because I hurt so much, but I’m letting go of resentment. I didn’t exactly end our marriage respectfully. And I know my choices have made it harder on Emmy and you.”
“We’ll figure things out. She’ll be okay.”
“Truth is, I’m not a great mother. Even from the beginning, part of why I had Emmy was to hold on to you. I do love her, but I’m too needy right now to have enough left over to give her everything she needs. She’s not my little baby doll anymore. She’s growing up. You’re better suited to make sure she’s not insecure like me, especially when it comes to men. And John doesn’t want kids.” A soft sound puffed from her lips, and Ryan almost admired her brutally honest self-assessment. He didn’t totally agree with her, but he believed that she thought she was doing what was best for Emmy. “When he got back from Nebraska, he told me he wants a real commitment once the divorce is final, so I’m going to take the plunge and remarry. You’re off the hook for alimony, but let’s split the assets fifty-fifty. When I start making money, I’ll kick in something for child support.”
He still wouldn’t be able to afford the bungalow if he wanted any money for other things, but he’d take the lucky break. It came on the heels of his other lucky break this week, when Billy found a prostitute willing to testify against O’Malley’s accuser. Now he could get the DA to plea-bargain and bring closure to that case, much like the closure he and Val both needed with their divorce. “Never thought I’d say this—much less mean it—but I really hope you find what you’ve been looking for. What you deserve.”