Page 14 of Scarred

“Perfect,” she beams, before bending down to my daughter’s level and tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. The simple gesture shakes me to the core as I tighten the grip on Scarlett’s hand, eager to be out of here and away from things I can’t control.

“I’ll see you next week,” she smiles. “You danced just like a fairy ballerina today.”

“I danced so big,” Scarlett says, giving her a toothy grin.

“Yes, you did,” Luna laughs. “So big, you almost touched the stars.”

“Mommy is in the stars,” Scarlett adds in a carefree voice, and my whole body tenses.

Luna’s gaze shifts to mine, and I don’t mistake the sadness I see in them as I feel my anger rise.

I don’t want or need her pity.

I get plenty of that outside these walls, so much that it suffocates me.

She averts my heated stare and forces a small smile toward my daughter, who has no clue the bomb she just dropped and the turmoil she just unleashed inside of me.

“I bet your mommy has the best view from up there and loved seeing her little girl so happy today.” Her voice is soft and soothing, making my daughter immediately warm up to her as she nods excitedly at the thought of her mom seeing her dance today.

“Time to go, baby girl,” I push out past the sharp razors in my throat.

Letting go of my hand, she throws her arms around Luna’s neck, causing her eyes to widen in surprise before she melts into my daughter’s embrace.

“Bye, Miss Luna. You’re the best fairy dancer,” she whispers before letting go and taking my outstretched hand.

“Thanks for letting me watch,” I rumble out before walking away, not giving myself the chance to look her in the eyes again, afraid I’ll only see the pain that I’ve tried so hard to break free of.

Pulling the covers up to her chin, I brush Scarlett’s hair back, kissing her on the forehead. The stars and moon circle the room from her nightlight, casting a soft glow across her sleeping features and touching the pink fairies dancing on her walls.

My eyes glance at the photo on her nightstand before I pick it up. It was taken at our old apartment on the day we brought Scarlett home. We had propped up the phone, wanting to capture this moment as a family.

Scarlett’s tiny body is wrapped in a Bolts blanket, and the matching beanie on her head has my number across the front. Jules had surprised me with both on the day she told me she was pregnant.

My arm is wrapped around them as we beam at the camera. Jules’s blue eyes shine brightly with love as I trace her soft blonde curls with my finger, so much like Scarlett’s. The older Scar gets, the more she looks just like her mom.

At first, it was a painful reminder of what I had lost, but now I find comfort in knowing our daughter will have a piece of Jules to see every time she looks in the mirror.

I stare at the happy family, and it’s hard to believe it was close to three years ago. Sometimes it feels like another lifetime, and other times it hits me hard as if it all happened yesterday.

Placing the photo frame back on the nightstand, I make sure the video monitor is turned on in case she wakes up.

Picking up a ballerina doll from the floor, I set it at the white table in the corner of the room with a tea set laid out—evidence of our early playtime before bed.

Shutting the door softly, I glance at her little sleeping figure one more time before I walk to the other side of the condo, where my bedroom lies.

One of the reasons I chose this place was the layout. I wanted Mae to feel like she had her own space, and with the two levels, it gives us both privacy. Since I didn’t want Mae having to deal with the stairs, her bedroom is off the kitchen, next to an office that I converted into a playroom for Scarlett.

The master bedroom sits on the second level, with Scarlett’s on the opposite end. Between us is a bonus room where I put in a huge screen TV and comfortable seating, fully equipped with a mini bar, which usually doubles for juice box storage and various kiddie snacks.

Most nights, I unwind up here watching a game and reviewing plays before calling it a night.

Tonight, I find myself too restless and unable to focus on hockey as I pass the sofa, which is saying something since I basically live and breathe it outside of my daughter.

Grabbing a bottle of water from the mini fridge, I enter my bedroom to change into gym shorts, needing to clear my head and get some sense of control back into my life.

Heading to the walk-in closet, I bypass the king-sized bed and matching black nightstands. Dark grey curtains hang on either side of the windows, covering one wall with double cottage doors leading out onto a private balcony. During the day, the blue waters of the Atlantic stretch as far as the eye can see.

Tonight, though, they’re dark and haunting, matching my mood to a tee.