Page 85 of Unbreakable Thread

“I’m doing well, Mrs. Debbie. We brought you and the kids some baked goods.” He gestures to the five boxes he placed on the table.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get them to you. I have an employee who delivers every day now. It’s all set up.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. The kids will love them.” She mixes what’s in the pot, then lowers the flame. “Tell me where my sweet boy is. I haven’t seen him in a hot minute. He said he was going to come fix a couple of things for me, but he hasn’t shown up. I’ve been worried.”

“Max is well. He’s just been busy. I’m sure he’ll show.”

“They are not together,” Leo blurts.

Mrs. Debbie’s hands go to her chest. “Oh, dear lord. How is that possible? That boy looks at you like the rarest jewel. When he speaks of you, he lights up like a beautiful city. Tell me what I can do to mend your souls back together.”

Before I can get a word out, Leo spills the tea as if it were his story to tell. It’s an understatement to say they see her as a motherly figure they feel comfortable with.

“Honey, you have a free pass to feel the way you have. If you needed space to breathe and think, then you should, and I’m glad you did. As I once told Max, let your walls crumble with the one you love, and now I’m telling you the same. You might feel you don’t deserve him, but you do, and at one point, he felt the same way. Now that those secrets of the past have been revealed, look at things differently. Life can be very mysterious. People are put in our path for a reason, and you two met when you both needed that strength. Destiny has its way of aligning our paths at the right time.”

I pull out a stool for her and pick up the spoon without thinking. The sauce is thick and smells like home. It reminds me of when I first cooked for Max. I stir.

Mrs. Debbie continues. “Those marks on his back are visible, and you have marks, right? Those are not visible.”

I set the spoon down. I never thought of it that way. In my head, his suffering had always been physical, something I could point to, something real on his skin. Mine was scattered and nameless and hard to explain, even to a therapist. But they were both there. “Yes, I do. It’s just that…”

She wags her finger. “Those scars, sweetheart, are from the monster who did it, not you. You didn’t hurt him. He did what a person with a big heart would do. Now you have done the same for him. You gave him hope, something to hang on to. Every time he’d come in, he would speak of you.”

I take the pot with noodles in it and strain it. There’s a saying, “The older, the wiser,” and Mrs. Debbie is living proof; no wonder everyone leans on this woman who’s full of wonderful advice.

“He wants nothing to do with me,” I admit, then tell her why.

She waves a hand at me, then removes the pins from her hair. “That boy ain’t going anywhere. Men can be stubborn and act macho. When the steam stops piping out of his ears, then you will be able to put him in his place and talk to him.” She whistles. “Especially with a child on the way. He will be smitten.”

After I leave here, I’m dropping off his birthday gift early at his office. It’s the baby onesie with the ultrasound picture. If I can’t get a word in, then this is another way. I just wanted to see his face when I told him. “It seems every time I’m trying to head in the right direction and balance life out, someone or something comes to pull me away.”

“Like Carlos,” Leo mumbles, rolling his eyes.

Mrs. Debbie’s brows rise, and Leo spills the tea once again. Then I add what Carlos told me.

“That son of a bitch.” She covers her mouth and looks around. It’s only us here. “If that man were a good person, he would have given you better advice for you to become stronger, rather than push you away.” She tsks, shaking her head.

A family comes in for meals, and we help her serve. The line gets pretty long, and we run out of spaghetti. I rush to make sandwiches. A couple of kids linger, read, or play games, and some use the laundry room to wash. I observe how much Mrs. Debbie loves what she does and how dedicated she is to this place and the children. She’s also tired.

“If you ever need me to come in for you, let me know,” I say, rubbing her back.

“Oh, child, that would be wonderful. A part of me is ready to leave this place in better hands as I’m slowing down. I might have some time left in me for now.” She chuckles. She’s ready, but her heart is not ready to let it go.

“When you’re ready, let me know, and I can take over. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to treat each individual as you have—with love. I give you my word.” It came out before I’d fully made up my mind. But once they were spoken, I knew I meant them.

She embraces Leo in a hug, and then Leo and I leave.

Once Leo walks inside his home, I sit in the driveway staring at the gift I’m about to deliver to Max’s work.

My heart thunders in my chest as I take the elevator. The box shakes under the palms of my hands. Although I didn’t see Max’s car or truck parked, there is a chance he’s here.

The doors open, and I walk in. The desk where Leo sits is, of course, empty, and to my right, Ellena is on the phone. She waves. When she hangs up, she pushes up from her chair. Her heels click on the tile floor as she comes toward me with open arms. “Rainey, honey, nice to see you. You missed Max, love. He had to run errands.”

“That’s too bad. I’m just going to drop this on his desk.”

The phone rings, and she jogs to answer it. Although I know he’s not here, my heart is still about to roll out of my chest. I’m relieved he’s not here. The way he looked at me. As if I were sleeping around. And the cruel words. The second I walk in, my nose fills with the familiar mix of cedar aftershave mingled with the faint musk of his cologne lingering in the room. His masculine aroma—earthy and warm like sunbaked soil after rain—feels like home. My shoulders drop three inches, tension melting like ice cream on hot pavement, before I even realize I’m breathing deeper, drawing in a lungful of air as if I’ve been underwater too long. I run my fingers over his expensive desk, memories of him screwing me in every position in this room.

“Spread your legs, tesoro.” I lean back on his desk while he sits on his chair, drinking me like I was a thirst he couldn’t quench. My legs flop on his shoulders. My body shudders when his lips skim my inner thighs. Every kiss is delicate and pleasurable. From under my skirt, he rolls down my underwear. “Touch yourself. Let me see you,” he presses.