Page 82 of Finders Keepers

A soft knock at the door makes me jump. Mary Beth pokes her head in. “Gavin just pulled up.”

My heart does its usual flutter at his name, followed immediately by a wave of guilt. How can I think about anything else when Matt’s threat hangs over us?

“Perfect timing!” Ms. Lucy stands with a wince, pulling me up with her. “Bailey was just helping me with my secret recipe card collection, weren’t you?”

I manage a weak smile, grateful for her cover story. Outside, I hear a truck door slamming.

“Remember,” Ms. Lucy whispers, “you’re not alone anymore. That man might think he has power over you, but he’s wrong. You’re stronger than you know.”

I wrap Ms. Lucy in a tight hug. “Thank you for everything,” I whisper, my voice thick with emotion. “Your kindness means more to me than you’ll ever know.” Her small frame feels so sturdy against mine, like an anchor in the storm my life has become. When I finally pull back, I notice her eyes are a bit misty behind her glasses and she picks up the hem of her floral apron and dabs at them.

I step back into the kitchen just as Sophie lets out a squeal of delight. Her and Tommy are jumping around now, their small faces flushed with excitement, still trying to keep balloon from touching the floor. Mary Beth cheers them on.

“Keep it up, kiddos!” She calls out, leaning over and tapping the balloon back to them.

The doorbell rings, sending my heart into my throat and peaking my anxiety again. Ms. Lucy answers, I hear the familiar creak of the screen door as it opens, followed by the sound of footsteps moving toward the kitchen.

Gavin appears in the archway; his arms are loaded with gifts wrapped in sparkly paper and a bag of birthday supplies that was requested last minute. My throat instantly clenches at the sight of him, a rush of conflicting emotions hitting me all at once.

He’s wearing dark jeans that fit him perfectly and a plain grey T-shirt that stretches across his broad shoulders. His dark hair is styled and tousled in that effortlessly attractive way he does it and I can’t help but notice how put-together he looks, even in casual clothes. As I watch him place the items on the island, my heart aches with guilt and uncertainty. I can’t imagine a world where someone like him would ever want to be with me once he knows the truth about Matt. The thought alone makes me feel sick with anxiety. Someone like Gavin, so successful and composed, would surely run in the opposite direction if he knew the truth about my past.

I try to act normal, to paste on the pretty smile. But it feels brittle and forced. It’s the same one I always used with Matt when we were out in public. I can feel Gavin’s concerned gaze from where he stands by the kitchen island. I try to ignore it as I busy myself with helping to set up the food on the dining table, straightening the plates and napkins, even though they were fine the way they were.

He approaches slowly, hesitation in every step, like he’s afraid one wrong move and I’ll bolt. His hand finds my elbow, gentle, barely there, and still, I flinch.

My body locks up, muscles turning to stone. The simple warmth of his touch, meant to steady me, instead sends a jolt of panic tearing through my entire body.

Memories crash in, sharp and suffocating, and for a moment, it’s all I can do to stay standing.

He pulls back instantly, his hand slipping away like he’s afraid he’s hurt me. His eyes search mine, not with judgment, but something deeper. Something that nearly undoes me.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—” he whispers.

Before he can fully withdraw, I reach out, my fingers trembling as they press against the soft cotton of his shirt.

“No, please,” I whisper, answering the question I see in his eyes. “I’m just… it’s not you.”

His arms return, cautious and careful, wrapping around me like he’s afraid I’ll break. I let my forehead fall against his chest, breathing in the clean, steady scent of him. For just a moment, I allow myself this, this feeling of being held, of being able to breathe without fear.

“Hi.” He speaks to the top of my head,

A vision of Matt flashes in my eyes, harsh and unwelcome, and I quickly let go. I brush a lock of my hair back behind my ear.

“Hi,” I whisper and then turn and busy myself again around the table, methodically straightening items that don’t need straightening, again. Every time he moves to come closer, I see that his eyes are full of questions and growing concern. I find an excuse to step away, grabbing another plate or adjusting a centerpiece.

I can’t deal with his inquiries right now, I can’t risk breaking down if he shows me too much kindness, the walls I’ve built feel paper-thin.

“Don’t let it touch the ground!” Sophie shrieks as Tommy bats the balloon her way, her little body radiating excitement as she bounces on her toes. She clutches her sparkly ‘birthday girl’ crown with one hand to keep it from slipping as she bounces in place, eyes locked on the balloon drifting down through the air. When it finally floats within reach, she lets out a delighted giggle and smacks it back toward Tommy with all the enthusiasm she can muster.

“I got it, I got it!” Tommy lunges dramatically, his light brown curls flopping as he dives to save the balloon from touching the carpet, rolling across the floor in an exaggerated motion that makes both kids dissolve into giggles that bounce through the room, momentarily drowning out my troubled thoughts.

Molly starts arranging the veggie plate and dips that she brought on a platter saying something about the coffee shop’s newest gadget and I just nod along, not really listening, but grateful for the distraction from my churning thoughts. I can still feel Gavin hovering, his presence both comforting and terrifying

Back in the kitchen I pull out the number five candle and matches from the drawer.

“Bailey.” Gavins deep voice is right behind me, and I nearly jump out of my skin, my hands clutching the edge of the countertop. “Can we talk for a minute?” The gentle concern in his tone breaks my heart.

“I… I need to help Ms. Lucy with the drinks,” I stammer, ducking around his muscular frame and practically fleeing toward the back mud room where the drinks were placed. Ignoring the hurt that I know is on his face. My heart pounds against my ribs with each step.

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