Cloey
Medical school has a way of sucking the life out of a person without meaning to. The number of caffeinated drinks I’ve consumed in the last two weeks of residency has caught up to me. A headache rages in an already worn-out body that only hours before was enduring another long shift in the ER. My only saving grace is the little form curled up next to me in my bed. She’s the reason I haven’t quit. She’s why I would do anything to provide the life she deserves. I hate the exhaustion that wracks my mind. It’s enough to hold off the sleep I desperately need and strong enough to bring back memories I don’t want to remember, especially of a certain dark-haired soldier. The last time I’d visited Wayward Ranch was to see the birth of Red’s new twins. What they didn’t realize, not even my best friend and cousin Ayasha, was that I had my own miracle waiting for me to return to Washington, D.C., where medical school awaited me. I haven’t been home since. Instead, I’ve been a coward and hid myself and my daughter from the life that once was. I have my brother’s death to thank for that.
Begging my mind to rest, I start to doze off when a noise I don’t recognize has me shooting up in bed. Footsteps? Something is moving outside my bedroom window. The rental property is a decent drive away from the hustle and bustle of the city but a good neighborhood to raise a little girl. The crime rate is low, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. My movements have startled Felicity. She’s rubbing her eyes when I open my dresser drawer. Pulling out the handgun I keep inside, I reach for her. She comes to me instantly. Usually, she whines or cries when her sleep is interrupted, but this time she’s quiet. Maybe she senses the same thing I do ... danger.
Slipping out of bed, I make it around the corner of the hallway leading to the back door when the window from my bedroom shatters, and a bottle hits the floor. Another one soon follows, and by the flames licking themselves up my bedspread, I realize in horror that we could have been in that bed. Hugging Felicity close, I rush out into the night and run as fast as my legs will take me. I don’t look back to see if anyone’s following me. I’m sure whoever threw the flaming lighters thinks I’m still in bed. My goal now is to get my baby girl to safety. I can’t say I haven’t prepared for this. I’ve been getting strange notes the last few weeks requesting money. I have no idea why the person thinks I’ll have it. With my student loans and expenses, I’m lucky to have enough to support me and my daughter. The last note was more threatening. I tried to get help from the police, but my notes seemed low on the totem pole in a city full of crime. I’m not a stupid girl despite the way I used to flaunt my blonde locks growing up. It was easier to act dumb than show them how smart I was. Besides, I loved rebelling against my family. Right now, I suspect my brother’s death has something to do with this unknown threat, and if I’m banking right, that means my little girl is in danger.
Reaching the car, which I purposely hid a few weeks ago in the woods near my rental property, I rush us inside and crank it up. Pulling out onto an unmarked dirt road, I maneuver the path I set for myself to travel on. Careful to ensure I’m not being followed, I drive a good way before pulling over. It’s a rental, so I’m not worried about being recognized. Buckling Felicity safely in her car seat in the back, I pull back out on the road and drive us to our destination. It would be easy to call in for help. I could call him. I should call him. Looking in the rearview mirror, I notice Felicity has fallen back asleep. I never meant to keep her from him this long. I never meant to keep her secret, but he wasn’t ready. He told me he had no desire for a family or commitment. He wanted me to let go and move on. I had no idea at the time that letting go would be harder than I initially thought, especially when she’s the spitting image of her father.
