Chapter 10

He looked at me, his eyes clouded with stress. “That thing you told me last night, about Sarah and Maxwell? That actually… that started something for us. We’re gonna start digging deep into old domestic violence reports, shelter intake forms, anything that tells us about these guys’ past abuse. It’s a ton of paperwork, Gracie, a crazy amount. But it’s a lead. The only real one we’ve got right now.”

My heart gave a tiny little thump, almost nothing, but I was happy it sounded like he was going in the right direction. “That sounds like a huge job. But it makes sense. those women, their stories… maybe it’ll finally give you something to go on.”

He nodded, running a tired hand through his hair. “It’s a long shot, I know. But it’s more than we had yesterday. Ben’s already pulling old files, trying to match names, and build a picture. We need to figure out who would go after these specific kinds of guys, and how they’re getting their info.” He sighed, leaning his head back on the cushions. “It’s like trying to find one tiny thing in a giant pile of hay, Gracie. But it’s the only pile we’ve got to search right now.”

My heart kept up a slow, steady beat. He was so incredibly focused on his job, so dedicated to finding answers. He was so good at it. His mind was set to see bad guys as strangers, as shadows from the wrong side of the tracks. He was just doing his job, trying to make sense of a very messy situation.

I reached out, gently took his hand, and laced my fingers with his. “You’ll find it, David. You always do. You’re really the best at this.” My voice was soft, full of warmth. Because I did care about him. He was like my anchor, the normal part of my life that let me get through the tough stuff I faced every day.

Later, as he finally fell asleep beside me, breathing deep and easy, I lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The rough chase in the park. David’s new, focused lead. It all spun around, making me feel even more aware of how unpredictable life can be. It meant I had to be even more careful.

My mind went to work, thinking about new daily routines, just being extra careful about things. And, knowing David’s investigation was now focused on shelters, I knew I needed to be extra mindful of anything related to my work there, just to keep everything smooth. It was like living two different lives, and I had to make sure they never, ever touched. It was a challenge, but I was used to it. And I knew I could handle whatever came my way.

This morning, after David left for another long day chasing down whatever bad news the city threw at him, the apartment was quiet again. Our apartment felt like a quiet spot in the middle of a loud city. It’s a pretty simple place, you know, not too big, not too small. Just a comfortable spot with a bunch of books stacked here and there and a big, soft couch that’s seen better days, but is perfect for sinking into. It feels lived-in, warm, a real home. David, he’s a big guy, built solid, the kind of person who just fills a room. He usually looks a bit tired, like he carries the weight of a heavy secret, especially with everything going on at work.

Me? Well, I’m just… me. A quiet person, often found in soft, comfortable clothes that are easy to move in. Folks sometimes say I have a calm way about me, a quiet presence that puts people at ease. That’s probably why I ended up doing what I do.

I finished my coffee, tidied up a bit, and then got ready for school. The school, that’s my other world. A place buzzing with little lives, all trying to figure things out, sometimes stumbling, sometimes shining.

Walking into the counseling office always felt like stepping into a different kind of air. Lighter, hopeful, even when things were tough. My walls were covered with bright drawings from the kids, wonky stick figures and rainbow trees. The air smelled faintly of crayons and hand sanitizer. It was a complete switch from the heavy, dark stuff I dealt with at the shelter, and definitely a million miles away from David’s job.

My first appointment was with a little girl named Mia. She was maybe seven, with bright red pigtails and a frown stuck to her face. She shuffled in, head down, clutching a worn-out drawing of a cat. Mia was having trouble in class. She was quiet, easily sad, and sometimes she’d just sit alone, lost in her own thoughts.

I knelt down so I was at her eye level, my voice soft. “Hey, Mia. Come on in. Want to tell me about your day so far?”

She mumbled something into her drawing. “Miss, my cat… he’s lost. He ran away from home.”

My heart just ached for her. A lost pet. It’s a huge deal when you’re little. “Oh, Mia,” I said gently, trying to keep any sadness out of my voice. “That’s really tough. I know how much you love your cat. Tell me all about him.”

She talked for a while, about her cat’s purr, its soft fur, how it slept on her bed. I just sat there, listening, offering quiet words of comfort. Sometimes, that’s all they needed. Someone to really listen, to make them feel safe enough to just be.

Later in the morning, I had a group session with some older kids who were dealing with friendship dramas. Teenagers. All big feelings and loud whispers, trying to navigate that tricky path of growing up. They were arguing about who said what, who was friends with whom, all the usual stuff.

I let them talk for a bit, letting off steam, before gently guiding them. “Okay, hold on. Everyone just take a breath. It sounds like there’s a lot of hurt here, and maybe some misunderstandings. Nobody likes feeling left out, right? We all want to feel like we belong.” I kept my voice calm, even, like a steady stream flowing over rocks. “Instead of pointing fingers, how about we try to really hear what the other person is saying? And think about how your words make someone else feel. Because words, even when we don’t mean to, can leave scars.”

It was hard work, sometimes, trying to untangle all their messy feelings, helping them find their way back to each other, or at least to a place of understanding. But when they finally started talking, really listening, seeing the flicker of understanding in their eyes, that was the good stuff. That was why I did it.