Chapter 2 - The Ringtone in Her Purse
My mother reached over and patted my arm like she was soothing a spooked animal. "Danielle's just trying to help, sweetheart. You're always so busy."
There it was — the same tired math I'd been doing my whole life. Danielle did whatever she wanted, and I was the one expected to nod and understand.
I dug my phone out of my bag and called Lily's number.
A cheerful ringtone chimed to life — not from the hallway, not from a restroom.
From inside Danielle's purse.
She sighed, dug the phone out, and held it toward me like she was returning something I'd left behind by accident.
"She doesn't need to be glued to a screen all day."
Something in my chest went hard and cold. "You left my daughter with strangers and took her phone."
Mark let out a short laugh, not even looking up from his own screen. "They're not exactly strangers. They know Danielle down there."
I shoved my chair back hard enough to rattle the silverware against the plates.
"Rachel," my mother hissed under her breath, eyes darting around the restaurant. "Please. Don't make a scene."
"Too late," I said.
Then I stood up and walked out before a single one of them could stop me.
Outside, the heat slammed into me like a wall. My hands were shaking so badly I missed the ignition twice before the key finally caught. The drive across town blurred into a smear of red lights and pounding heartbeat, every stoplight feeling like it was personally trying to keep me from my kid.
The shelter sat at the edge of downtown, a squat brick building with a faded sign reading "Hope Haven Family Shelter." I pushed through the glass doors, and the woman behind the front desk looked up, startled by how fast I was moving.
"Can I help you?"
"My daughter was dropped off here. Lily Carter. Someone said she was volunteering."
Her expression softened instantly. "You're her mother?"
"Yes."
"Thank goodness. We were told someone would be here for her hours ago. She's been waiting in the playroom this whole time."
Hours ago.
The words hit like a slap. The hallway smelled like industrial soap and old crayons. Somewhere down the corridor a toddler was crying. The woman led me into a common room lined with folding chairs, and there was Lily, backpack balanced on her knees, jaw clenched tight to keep from crying.
The second she saw me, the dam broke. She let out a shaky breath and ran straight into my arms.
May you like
"You came," she whispered against my shoulder.
"I'll always come," I said, holding her so tight I could feel her heartbeat. "Always."
