Page 47 of Salvation

“Bee’s nanny? She’s home?” I asked, scanning the kitchen as though she was going to be hiding around the non-existent corners.

“I was just telling Mr King—she’s gone straight to her room. She’s not had a good day.”

“What? Why?” I said, my eyes jumping back and forth between them. They shared a look, and I felt my anger grow.

What the fuck aren’t they telling me?

“I’ll leave her in your capable hands,” Heather murmured. “Same time tomorrow or will Mrs… Rachel be taking her to school?”

“We’ll keep the routine as it is for the time being, Heather. Thanks.”

“Okay then, I’ll see you both in the morning.”

I gave her a smile goodbye and waited until she was out of earshot before I spun on Dante. “I want to know everything, and I want to know it now.”

He sighed heavily and popped Axel on the floor, who immediately got back to his feet and began to cruise using the furniture around the kitchen to get back to the bike at the back.

“Bee is… She’s having some difficulties. Her therapist recommended school, and at first, she seemed to love it. But lately?” he sighed again. “It’s difficult to know what’s happening when she won’t talk to us.”

I nodded. “Kids can be like that sometimes. Maybe if—”

“No, Rachel. You’re not understanding. She doesn’t talk to us because she doesn’t talk. At all.”

“What?” I asked, my head snapping back in shock.

“Selective mutism the therapist called it. It’s a trauma response.”

“When did this start?” I demanded, narrowing my eyes to slits.

“She started withdrawing the day after you left.”

My heart clenched as fear wrapped around me. “And when did she stop talking completely?”

He flinched and avoided my eyes. “Some time afterwards.”

“When?” I almost yelled, but stopped myself just in time, remembering our other child who was listening to every word.

“Just… after. Let that be enough.”

“No. I want to know when.”

I already knew. Somewhere deep, I’d known the answer before I asked. But I needed to hear it, needed him to say it, because if I was wrong, I could breathe again. If I was right, I would never forgive myself.

“Dante?” I demanded when he didn’t answer.

“Just after she received your letter,” he said, his voice soft, confirming all my suspicions.

My entire body froze, and guilt hit me like a brick. The blood drained from my face, my body growing weak. I grabbed the chair to steady myself and took a deep breath. “Is it permanent?”

“We don’t know. She’s still working with her therapist—and you’re welcome to come with us when both you and Bee feel comfortable with that. But I can’t really tell you much more.”

I fell silent, and Dante came over to me, gently holding my shoulders and nudging my chin up until I was looking at him. I tried to avoid eye contact, but he held my chin firm, refusing to let me go.

“Your letter wasn’t to blame, Rachel. There was a lot of shit that went down, and it was a series of events that led to this. The fire, the war, seeing Zach… like that. Losing her Papa. And then losing you. Hell, even losing Macbeth. It was a lot for her to take. This is a coping mechanism for her, to disassociate from it all. We can bring her back out of her shell and help her find herself again. It’s just going to take time and patience. What it won't take is blaming yourself. I was the one that sent you away, and I recognise I am to blame. You and her bonded so fast and so firm, she clung to you as the only reliable adult in her life. I’m man enough to admit that.”

I just stared at him, unable to believe that he wasn’t actually being mean to me and blaming me right now. I had expected him to twist the knife and heighten the pain I was feeling, and instead he was trying to… reassure me?

He must have noticed the confusion on my face because he looked away for a moment before saying. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about this, Rachel. I think the reason Bee was ready to call you mum so soon was because she desperately needed someone who would be there for her. Kitty was already pulling away. She’d lost her uncle; her dad and Papa were busy with the club. I’m not dismissing your influence here because you were an amazing mother to her. However, she clung to you because she desperately needed someone normal—someone kind, someone consistent, and someone who radiated love. I can see where I failed her, and where you picked up the slack. She lost so much in such a short time… I’m surprised her trauma response isn’t worse.”

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