Possess Me by Michelle Heard

 

Chapter 23

 

Everleigh

 

Climbing out of the car, I take Vincent’s hand and walk toward the park where moms come so their kids can play.

I make a point of coming here once a week so Vincent can interact with other children. Just because I have social anxiety doesn’t mean he has to suffer.

“Jonas,” Vincent calls out, already tugging at my hand so I’ll free him.

“Fine,” I chuckle. “Go play with your friend.”

I watch as he makes a beeline for Jonas, and they head to the jungle gym.

Finding a seat in the morning sun, I pull a book from my handbag. For a while, I watch Vincent have fun before I open the book to continue reading.

I like fantasy and sci-fi books because they’re pure fiction and transport me to a different world.

Every now and then, I check on Vincent. The sound of laughter and the conversations from other mothers fill the air.

“Everleigh?”

My head snaps up, and seeing the customer from the store who I didn’t call, my stomach sinks.

She smiles brightly as she pushes the stroller closer. “It’s me, Rosalie. You didn’t call.”

Crap.

I shut the book and give her a sheepish expression. “Shoot, I lost the sticky note.”

As she sits, I notice men in suits fanning out around us.

Jesus!

My heart sets off at a crazy pace, and grabbing my bag, I dart to my feet. Intense fear overwhelms me, and I struggle to think straight.

Rosalie’s face fills with worry. “What’s wrong?”

Not thinking, the truth spills from my lips, “There are men watching us. I have to get Vincent!”

She stands up again and takes hold of my arm. “Hey, it’s okay. They’re my guards.”

My anxiety spikes dangerously high, and my breaths come way too fast.

Svetlana. Guards. The ambush. The torture.

With a concerned look, Rosalie wraps her arm around my shoulders and ducks her head close to mine. “Shhh…it’s okay. You’re safe.” She leans even closer to me. “Try to take deeper breaths. You’re safe here.”

My eyes lock on hers. “Who are you? Why would you have guards?”

She shakes her head. “Just the wife of a man who’s overprotective. The guards are here to make sure Roman and I don’t get kidnapped and held for ransom.”

Her honesty has my heartbeat slowing down a little. Shaking my head, I say, “I’m sorry. I can’t stay.”

This is all too familiar.

Pulling away from Rosalie, I run to where Vincent is playing with Jonas.

“Come, baby. We have to go.”

He gives me a stubborn look. “No, it’s not time yet.”

Taking his hand, I pull him to his feet. I have to drag my son, who’s kicking and screaming, away from the playground to the car.

My eyes keep darting around us, and every time I lock eyes with one of Rosalie’s guards, my fear intensifies.

I bundle Vincent into his car seat and quickly strap him in before I rush to climb behind the steering wheel. Panicking, I start the engine and floor the gas.

Only when we get home, and I lock the door behind us do I manage to catch my breath.

Vincent is crying next to me, and it feels like I’m about to have a breakdown.

Sinking to my knees, I wrap my arms around my son. “I’m sorry, baby. Mommy had a fright and just wanted to make sure we’re safe.”

“I…wanted to…play with Jonas,” he sobs as if his little heart is breaking.

I feel horrible for the way I reacted and comfort my boy until his sobs die down.

“Mommy will make it up to you, okay?” I say as I wipe the tears from his face. “We’ll go back tomorrow so you can play some more.”

Vincent nods, then he mumbles, “I want ice cream.”

Climbing to my feet, I lift Vincent to my hip and carry him to the kitchen. “How about Mommy makes popcorn, and we watch Ice Age?”

He nods. “And Ice cream.”

My child has an unhealthy addiction to ice cream and anything sweet, but right now, I couldn’t care. I’ll let him eat everything we have to make up for my crazy behavior.

 

 

The following day when we get to the playground, Jonas isn’t there.

“I don’t see him,” Vincent complains.

“Go play with the other children,” I encourage him. “Maybe you can make new friends.”

He lets out a sigh, and dragging his feet, he walks closer to the group of kids.

I find an open bench and keep my eyes on Vincent. After a while, I glance around the park, and when my gaze lands on Rosalie, my heart sinks to my feet.

Just my freaking luck.

When she nears me, I notice there are no guards in sight, and she doesn’t have her baby with her today. She gives me a friendly smile and sits down beside me.

“I told the guards to make themselves invisible.”

I can’t even manage a smile. My eyes remain locked on my son.

“From your reaction yesterday, I’m going to say I’m the last person you want to see.”

I can’t tear my eyes away from my son as I reply, “The guards triggered something for me. It’s not you.”

I think. I don’t know this woman at all.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” she murmurs. “I was hoping we could be friends.”

Nope. Not happening.

I shake my head. “I don’t have time for friends. My son keeps me busy.”

“I understand,” she whispers. Getting up, she hesitates. “I’m sorry I scared you yesterday. I just wanted to get to know other mothers.”

Guilt pours into my heart, and tearing my eyes away from my son, I glance up at her. “It’s not you,” I try to explain. “I have social anxiety.”

That’s the understatement of the year, but it’s the only way I can explain why I am the way I am.

She sits down again and gives me a compassionate smile. “I struggle interacting with people as well. At least, I did. It was something I had to work on.”

Her confession has me relaxing a little.

“I’m sorry for my crazy behavior,” I say while glancing at Vincent again. He laughs, and the sound soothes my frazzled mind.

“No need to apologize,” Rosalie replies. “Do you mind if I just sit here for a while? We don’t have to talk.”

And now I feel like shit.

“Where’s your son?” I ask.

“With his father.” She chuckles, her gaze resting on Vincent, who’s making funny faces with a little girl. “Your son is adorable.”

“Thank you.”

“Roman took his first step last night.”

When my eyes dart to hers, I see the pride on her face.

A smile curves my lips. “That’s so awesome.”

“I shrieked with happiness which made him drop to his butt,” she admits.

I let out a chuckle. “I was so excited Vincent started crying.”

There’s a weird pang in my chest because this is the first time I’m getting to tell someone about Vincent and what it’s like being a mom.

“Roman loves the book I got him.”

Still feeling awful because of my crazy reaction yesterday, I say, “I’m really sorry I just ran off. I want you to know it’s nothing you did.”

“I understand.” Rosalie gives me a warm smile. “Let’s forget it happened.”

Still apprehensive because I don’t know her, I ask, “What work does your husband do?”

Without hesitating, she says, “He’s in the shipping business.”

“Do you work?”

She shakes her head. “Nope. I’m a full-time mommy.” Her eyes meet mine. “Do you own the bookstore?”

I nod. “Yeah, I love books, and it allows me to bring Vincent to work with me.”

Finally, having someone to talk to, I admit, “I feel guilty for not putting him in a daycare center. He doesn’t get to play with other children enough.”

She lets out a sigh. “I won’t place Roman in a daycare center either.” With a hopeful look, she says, “Maybe the boys can have play dates?”

Before I can think of what to answer, Vincent comes running toward me. “I’m thirsty, Mommy.”

I pull his juice box out of my bag and give it to him. “Drink it slowly.”

He sucks down half the juice, shoves the box back into my hand, and runs back to his friends.

“Is it weird that I can’t wait to experience Roman at that age, but at the same time, I don’t want him to grow up?” Rosalie asks.

“No, it’s not weird at all,” I chuckle.

“Are the terrible twos really as bad as people say?” she asks.

I shake my head. “Vincent is a blessing. It’s seldom he throws a tantrum.”

Rosalie sits with me for another ten minutes before she gets up. She hands me a piece of paper with her number on it. “I’ll understand if you don’t call. I just want you to have my number in case you change your mind and feel like hanging out.”

Taking the paper, I give her a sheepish grin. “I usually bring Vincent to the playground on Tuesday afternoons.”

A smile brightens her pretty face. “I’ll be here on Tuesday.”

I watch Rosalie walk to where a G-Wagon is parked before I turn my attention back to Vincent.

You don’t have to be best friends with her, but it won’t hurt to have someone to chat with once a week.