Page 1 of The Scars We Heal

CHAPTER ONE

caitlin

I’m so sorry, ma’am, but it appears your card has declined.” The front desk attendant offered me a sympathetic look from behind her computer screen.

“Oh.” I dug in my purse for my wallet, hands shaking as I fished out an alternative credit card. “Try this one.”

My heart plummeted in my chest when the machine she ran the card through emitted the distinct beep of a declined transaction.

“Let me try it again. Sometimes our machines can be a bit finicky,” she explained, although I was sure she was doing it to save face, especially when the same beep echoed in the lobby again. “Do you have any other cards we can try? Otherwise, I’m afraid we’re going to have to cancel your reservation and offer the room to another guest.”

“Sure, um…” Heat raced to my cheeks as I pulled out another credit card and laid it on the counter.

The air around me grew hot and stuffy as I waited for the transaction to go through.

At least one of my cards had to work.

Another disappointing beep proved me wrong.

With a heavy sigh, the employee delivered the worst news I could have received since February when my husband served me divorce papers after nearly a decade together. “I’m sorry, ma’am. All of your cards have declined, so I’m afraid we cannot continue to offer you a room here.”

I blinked back the tears burning behind my eyes, biting the inside of my cheek, all while Whitley, my three-, almost-four-year-old daughter, pulled on my sleeve as she attempted to lift her legs off the ground and hang from my arm.

“O-okay.” I lingered awkwardly by the desk until someone cleared their throat behind me. I muttered an apology before I lifted Whitley into my arms and forced myself to walk toward the elevator so I could grab our belongings from the room while I still had a shred of dignity left.

None of my credit cards are working. Did something happen?

Adam

I canceled them.

Wait, why would you do that?

Adam

You don’t need them anymore.

I blinked a few times, typing out a response, deleting it, then typing it again.

Um…what do you mean?

Adam

Our divorce is final now, Caity. You’ve had plenty of time to figure out your finances without relying on me.

God, I hated when he called me Caity. No one ever called me that except him, and he always said it in the most condescending way. The piece about the finances just made my blood boil.

Adam had been the main breadwinner of our family since we got engaged. After we found out I was pregnant, he insisted that I didn’t need to work—and shouldn’t because someone had to take care of our kid once she was born. He also didn’t want to hand off our child to “strangers” at daycare, in his own words. I’d done some part-time remote work as a virtual assistant and had enough money saved away in my own account for emergencies and basic expenses like groceries, gas, and an occasional splurge for myself or Whit. Just not enough to afford renting a place in Washington or to continue to living out of a hotel for months.

I guess it was my own fault for assuming he’d help out for a couple months until Whitley started school and I could get a job again. I planned to pay off every cent I put on the card once I was able, but I didn’t even have the chance to now.

I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth and pocketed my phone, taking a few deep breaths. Nothing good would come from responding to him.

Mom always told me to pick my battles, and this was one I didn’t have the energy to fight today.

“Hey, bug, can you put your stuff in your backpack please?”

She was sitting on the floor playing with a stuffed cat, and she tilted her head at me, confusion clouding her big blue eyes. “Why, Mommy?”