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surrogate father say those words stirred something savage inside me. I didn’t even know that I could feel that way, that I could be filled with a longing so raw and unexpected that it brought tears to my eyes. Bowing my head over the sewing table, I took a shuddering breath.
    “I know who he is,” Max said softly. “I see what he does. Please, Rachel. You don’t have to live like this. You know that, don’t you?”
    I shook my head as if to clear it. “I have a daughter now,” I said. “Lily needs her dad.”
    “Not like this.” Max moved around the table and reached a hand out for me. His fingers brushed the fabric of my sweater for just a moment before he seemed to accept thatI wouldn’t respond to his touch. That I was unreachable. He changed tactics. “He still hits you, doesn’t he?”
    “Not really,” I said. “Not often.”
    “Rachel, abuse is abuse—”
    “I am not an abused woman.” My voice was flinty, furious. “Don’t you dare make me out to be some weakling.”
    “I don’t think you’re weak. I think you’re strong,” Max said. “But it kills me to see you like this. And I can’t stand the thought that he dares to raise a hand against you.”
    All the fight went out of me in one long exhalation. “He’s just a big bully, Max. He likes to get his way and when things don’t go as planned he overreacts. I know how to deal with him. Besides, what would you have me do? Leave?”
    “Exactly.”
    I shook my head at that. “Where would I go? What would I do? I have a high school education and zero credentials. Everything and everyone I know is here. I’m not going anywhere. I can’t.”
    “But you could—”
    The sound of Lily’s backpack hitting the floor behind us cut Max off so quickly he seemed to inhale whatever it was he was about to say. We both spun around, shocked that we had let the time get away from us, and downright sickened to realize that even if she hadn’t heard our entire conversation, Lily had heard enough of it.
    “Lil, honey,” I said, taking a tentative step toward her. “How long have you been standing there?”
    Her face was stricken, her mouth a thin, serious line. She stumbled backward a bit and bumped into the doorframe.
    “Listen to me, Lily. You overheard a conversation that wasn’t meant for your ears. I know you don’t understand, but you have to believe me—”
    “Believe you?” Lily’s eyes went wide. “Believe you? You’re a liar!” She whipped around and flew out the back room of the bridal shop, letting the steel door slam behind her.

CHAPTER 6
     

M ITCH
    December 24, 10:00 A.M.
     
    T he atrium is warm and bright, filled with the contented hum of activity. There is a TV on in the corner, and there are little knots of people congregating around tables and in carefully arranged nooks. Mitch’s eyes flick past the shuffleboard table and pause for a moment on the aviary that takes up the entire south wall. It’s impossible not to admire the tiny birds and the way they make the air seem to shimmer with their songs. But though the birds are lovely, Mitch would rather watch the residents.
    Three of the elderly inhabitants of The HeritageHome are with their visiting families. One gentleman—the one closest to where Mitch stands—is smiling as he unwraps a Christmas present. It’s a misshapen clay bowl, the sort of handmade work of art that is worth far more than diamonds or pearls. The little girl who made it grins as she points out its various attributes, and when her grandfather tells her that her gift is beautiful, just what he wanted, she throws her arms around his neck. Whispers loud enough for Mitch to hear, “I love you.”
    Those words stab through Mitch and leave him breathless. How long has it been since he’s made so bold, so life-changing a declaration? Since he’s heard it? He can’t remember.
    “I brought the chess board in case you’re up for it.”
    Mitch turns to find a well-dressed man at his elbow. He can