Page 72 of Finders Keepers

Sophie says goodbye to Nugget with a big hug, and then we’re walking to the car. The night air is cool against my flushed cheeks.

At the car door, I help Sophie into her booster seat while he gives me space.

“Thanks for coming over,” he says when I turn back to him. “I really enjoy having you both here.”

“We enjoyed it too.” My voice comes out softer than intended.

Before I can overthink it, I step forward and wrap my arms around him. His body tenses in surprise before relaxing, strong arms enfolding me. He smells like cedar and something uniquely him, and for just a moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like to stay here, safe in this embrace.

But I can’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

I pull back, offering a small smile. “Goodnight, Gavin.”

“Goodnight, Bailey.”

The drive home is quiet, Sophie dozing in her car seat while my mind races. Every time I think I’ve built my walls high enough, Gavin finds another crack to slip through. His kindness, his patience, the way he is with Sophie, it all chips away at my carefully constructed defenses.

But the fear remains, a constant companion whispering warnings in my ear. If I’m wrong about him, if I let him in and history repeats itself, what happens to me? Worse, what happens to Sophie?

I grip the steering wheel tighter, watching the dark road ahead. One wrong turn brought Matt into my life. One mistake led to years of pain, of walking on eggshells, of teaching my daughter to be quiet when Daddy was angry.

But Gavin isn’t Matt. Every interaction, every gentle word and careful touch proves that. And yet…

I glance in the rearview mirror at Sophie’s sleeping face, peaceful and trusting. She deserves everything good in this world. But am I strong enough to risk letting someone in, to trust my judgment again?

The questions follow me home, lingering long after I’ve tucked Sophie into bed. In the quiet of night, I remember the feeling of Gavin’s arms around me, the way I felt in that moment, and wonder if maybe the reward might be worth the risk.

Church has just let out and the Spring Fling is in full swing. I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, scanning the crowded room while trying to keep my breathing steady. The Pine Grove Spring Fling is held at the community center—The Grand Oak Room—and it’s buzzing with excitement. Children dart between attendees, couples sway to the music, and laughter bounces off the walls. The event is even bigger than I expected, bursting with life and warmth. But inside, I feel like I’m unraveling.

“Mommy, is Tommy here yet?” Sophie tugs at my sleeve, her flower crown slightly askew on her blonde curls.

“Not yet, sweetie. But I’m sure he’ll be here soon.” I straighten her crown and turn back to our booth, where dozens of handmade flower crowns create a rainbow of colors against the white tablecloth.

Sophie bounces on her toes. “I made his special. With the blue flowers ‘cause that’s his favorite color.”

“It’s beautiful,” I assure her, though my attention splits between arranging crowns, watching Sophie, and trying not to look for Gavin too obviously.

The crown I made for him sits apart from the others, woven with sprigs of lavender and small white blooms. It’s ridiculous, a grown man wearing flowers in his hair, but when Sophie insisted we make one for him because he asked last night at dinner, I couldn’t help myself.

A prickle runs up my spine. That feeling again—like someone’s watching me. I scan the room, searching for the source, my heart skipping erratically.

Is it Matt? Has he found us? The thought sends ice through my veins.

No. I’m being paranoid. There’s no way he could know we’re here.

“Mommy, can I put glitter on Tommy’s crown too?” Sophie’s voice pulls me back.

I force a smile. “Of course, honey. Just a little though, okay?” I hand her the small container of eco-friendly glitter Mary Beth gave us for the event.

Focus, Bailey. I arrange the flower crowns by size, my fingers trembling slightly. I take a deep breath, counting to four as I inhale, hold for seven, exhale for eight, just like I was taught.

An older woman approaches our booth, admiring our handiwork. “These are just darling! Did you make all these yourself?”

“My daughter and I did,” I say, grateful for the distraction. “Would you like to try one on?”

As I help the woman select a crown of pink daisies, I feel that sensation again. Eyes boring into me. I glance around casually, but see nothing suspicious among the families enjoying the spring celebration.

“Look, Mommy! I made it extra sparkly!” Sophie holds up Tommy’s crown, now dusted with blue glitter that will undoubtedly end up everywhere.

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