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Jackson looks at each of us, now uncertain what to say, but we have no idea either. Hell, we fed a five-year-old brussel sprouts as a snack. Realizing he's getting no help from us, he traces his scars, too. "Yeah, honey. They hurt me sometimes, but they don't hurt anymore."
Nibbling on her lip, she eyes his arm. "Daddy hurt Mommy all the time, but she doesn't have any bumpy things."
Jude hums. "I met JJ in the same house. The adults there hurt me too, but I don't have any bumps either. Sometimes people can hurt you in a lot of different ways."
Layla's mouth opens, and she nods in understanding. "My Daddy hurt me too. I never had any purple colors or scratches. But he made me sad." Her eyes narrow at Jackson’s arm again. "I felt-I felt mad when he got me nice things. Mommy was crying every time. Sometimes she wouldn't get up off the floor. I just wanted her to get up. I didn't want any toys or treats."
Mother fucking son of a bitch.
"Yeah. Like that, Nugget. That's why we’re nice to people even if we don't know them. Sometimes their bumps and bruises are on the inside."
Layla nods like everything Jude said makes sense. I suppose with what she has seen in her short life, this little girl might actually understand some of this deep conversation. Honestly, she seems to be grappling these concepts better than most adults.
What happens next will forever be engrained in my memory.
ChapterThirty-Seven
LAYLA
When I feel sad, or something hurts, Mommy kisses the pain away. JJ said his bumps don't hurt anymore, but Jude said sometimes people hurt inside. Like how Daddy used to make me feel. But when Mom would kiss my forehead, I felt better. She would always smile and tell me she loved me once she got off the floor.Maybe that will help them too?
I lift JJ's heavy arm and kiss one of the bumps. I twist and give him a big smile. "I love you, JJ." My head tilts when his eyes seem to sparkle. Mommy's eyes do that a lot, too.
"I love you too, honey." His large arms squeeze me tight, but my chest feels like it's flying. This feels really nice. I try to push away, done with the hug, and fall onto Jude's lap when he lets me go.
Sitting on my knees, I feel confused. I can't kiss any bumps or icky colors, but maybe I can help the way Mommy does. Reaching forward, I push out some air until he follows how I want him to move. I kiss his forehead and smile. "I love you, Judy."
My tummy swirls. I feel weird when he doesn't say it back.You are always supposed to say it back!
"I love you too, Nugget." He kisses my forehead too, making my smile come back. He doesn't give me a hug, so I hop down and skip to Marc. My happy feelings make me want to do my most favorite walk.
He leans forward and smiles. His smile looks a little sad, though. "Are you hurt, Marc?" He didn't say somebody hurt him, but Jude said sometimes I won't be able to know.
His mouth opens and closes. "No, I'm not hurt, little one. Sometimes I get sad about my dad, though. He says mean things sometimes." I nod and try not to giggle when my hair tickles my neck.
"Okay." I kiss his forehead. When I'm sad, I hurt too, so I'll make it go away for Marc. "Love you," I say and smile as big as I can. Someday I hope my smile is as pretty as Mommy's. He says it back, so I skip to Lee on his own couch.
His eyes are shiny too, and it makes me want to hug it away. "You get sad too, Mister. I'll make it better." I kiss his head. "I love you, Lee." I know he loves me. He said it a few days ago.
I skip away, happy that I made everyone feel better. But my chest feels... big. And my tummy kind of hurts. I want something, but I don't know how to say it.What if they say no? Mommy said we have to leave, so maybe they have to say no.
"Layla, honey. What's wrong?" JJ kneels in front of me. He's a little blurry, but I don't want to see his face when I ask. I watch my blue shirt as I try to twist it in a pretty pattern. "Layla. Tell me what you're thinking about, please."
Dark circles change my shirt color. "I was wondering..." Tugging on my shirt some more, I wipe off the wet drops on my hand. I don't like crying. I don't like it when Mommy cries, either. So maybe this will make us both feel better.
"Can all of you be my daddy? I don't-I don't love my daddy. He hurts me and Mom. And you don't. I love you, and I know Mommy does, too. Please be my dad?" When I look at all of them, they are so blurry I don't know what they look like anymore.
"Will you be my daddies?"
ChapterThirty-Eight
RYLEE
Why did I think this outfit was a good idea?
"Stop fussing. You look like you're picking a damn camel toe when you do that," Gabby hisses and swats my hand away from my thigh.
"Ugh! It's just so freaking hot in here. I'm dying."
