He looked back at her, small, forlorn, and lifted his hand to wave, but the agent was moving him forward, herding him into the jet ramp way.
Sarah pressed her fist to her mouth, struggling not to cry. He was going to be fine. He was. It was just five hours and then he’d be with Boone.
Her vision blurred and she drew a quick breath and wiped her eyes dry. To distract herself, she reached for her phone and texted Boone. He’s on the plane. Text me as soon as he lands.
Her phone rang. It was Boone.
“Hey,” she said thickly.
“You’re not crying now, are you, babe?”
She exhaled in a whoosh. “No.”
“He’s a big boy. He’s flown hundreds of times.”
“But he’s never flown alone.”
“There’s a first for everything.”
True. And there would be a lot more firsts ahead of them. “Promise to call me the moment you have him?”
“I promise. Now relax. Everything’s going to be fine, darlin’.”
Her chest squeezed, heart aching. God, she loved him. Loved her family. Loved the four of them together. They were good together. A family.
Sarah was just fifteen minutes from Meg’s house when her phone rang. It was Brianna. “What’s up?”
“What happened last night between you and Kit? Because she just texted me that due to a situation you created, she won’t be able to attend the funeral Friday.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Sarah snapped. “She can attend. I just told Meg it would be better if Jude didn’t.”
“How do you even have a say in the guest list for Jack’s funeral?”
“There’s no reason for you to get involved, Brianna. This is between Kit and me.”
“You have no right to dictate who should, or shouldn’t, attend Jack’s services.”
“I’m not comfortable having Jude around my kids.”
“What do you think he’s going to do? Molest them?”
“Maybe.”
“Jesus.”
“You don’t have kids, Bree, you don’t understand.”
“Tell me you didn’t say this to Kit.”
“Which part?”
“Any of it. That she wasn’t a mom, and therefore she wouldn’t understand that little girls can be hurt by men.”
“Not hurt. Molested.”
“Got it.” Brianna’s voice hardened. “Sarah, if this gets back to Kit, I swear I will tear you apart limb from limb—”
“You’re half my size and weigh about ninety pounds—”
“Kit was molested as a little girl.”
Sarah nearly missed her exit and slammed on the brakes.
“I was, too,” Bree added flatly, “but that’s neither here nor there. The important thing is that you figure out how to fix this so Meg can have her family with her on Friday.”
Brianna hung up.
Sarah dropped the phone into the car console, stunned, shattered.
For five minutes she just drove, unable to think, absolutely reeling. And then she grabbed her phone and called Brianna back.
“What?” Sarah choked, panicked, unable to say more than that.
“What do you mean, what?”
“What you just said. That . . . Kit . . . and you . . .” Sarah shook her head, trying to clear the fogginess in her brain.
“Were molested?” Brianna supplied.
“Yes.”
“And . . . ?”
Sarah’s eyes burned. “Why did you say it like that? Why did you tell me like that?”
“Because it’s true. And you hurt Kit—”
“I wasn’t trying to hurt her. I was trying to be a good mom!”
Brianna said nothing.
Sarah blinked, her throat aching. “I’ll call her after school. I’ll apologize. Okay?”
* * *
Still reeling, Sarah entered Meg’s house only to discover that things were in absolute turmoil.
Meg was in the living room with JJ. She was pacing back and forth while JJ slouched in a chair next to the sofa.
“How do you think I felt, going into your room and finding it empty?” Meg demanded. “Your bed not slept in? What do you think I thought happened?”
“I sent you a text that I was staying at Heather’s,” JJ answered shortly.
“I didn’t get it,” Meg snapped.
“Well, I sent it.”
Sarah slowly put her purse down on the hall table, listening for a moment, before heading for the stairs, thinking she should probably go check on the girls.
“Why didn’t you come home?” Meg asked as Sarah slunk up the stairs.
“Because I didn’t want to.”
“You’re sixteen, JJ.”
“Almost seventeen.”
“And way too young to be staying out all night.”