Rosie’s mouth bloomed into the widest smile I had ever seen on her face.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, you may.”
Steven took her hand like it was made of glass. They moved to the center of the floor, and the DJ slid into something slow and sweet.
I watched them turn. One-two-three, turn. Just like she had practiced in the kitchen.
A few girls near the punch bowl clapped softly. A teacher dabbed at her eyes. For a fleeting moment, I felt hopeful. I sat down at the empty table beside me, finally exhaling.
I should have just hung it up, but when I lifted it, something was peeking out of the pocket.
That was when Steven’s jacket slipped from the back of the chair next to mine. I had seen him drape it there before walking over to my daughter.
I bent automatically to lift it from the floor. My fingers brushed something hard inside the inner pocket.
I should have just hung it up, but when I lifted it, something was peeking out of the pocket. I slipped my hand inside and found a small flash drive, a folded stack of printed photographs, and a sealed red envelope with three words written across it in black marker.
AFTER THEY LAUGH.
My breath stopped somewhere behind my ribs.
“Stay quiet for your daughter’s sake.”
I pulled the photos out just far enough to see the one on top, and my stomach dropped. It was Rosie, crying in a bathroom stall with her knees pulled up to her chest.
The next one. Rosie in the hallway, clutching a jacket that had been ripped down the seam.
My hands started to shake so badly that the photos rattled against the envelope.
“Don’t.”
The voice was right beside my ear.
Steven’s hand closed around my wrist, firm enough to stop me, gentle enough that no one else saw.
His smile was gone. His eyes were something I didn’t recognize.
“Stay quiet for your daughter’s sake,” he whispered. “Please. You’ll understand in a minute.”
Steven didn’t flinch.
I stared up at him, at the boy who had just bowed to my child and the one I had hoped would not be the one to break her heart.
“Let go of me,” I breathed.
“I will. In a second. But you have to trust me.”
“Trust you? Trust you with what? With these?”
I shoved the photos back into his pocket.
Steven didn’t flinch. He just held my gaze, steady as stone.
“Please,” he said. “Just wait.”
“If you hurt her,” I whispered, leaning in close enough that no one could hear, “I will make sure you regret breathing her name. Do you understand me?”
She had no idea. No idea what was in his pocket.
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He shook his head, slow and sad. “You don’t understand. Not yet.”
Then he let go of my wrist and walked away from me, straight toward the stage.
I rose halfway out of my chair, my heart hammering against every bone I owned.
Across the room, Rosie stood by the dance floor, fanning her flushed cheeks with one hand. She caught my eye and waved.
She had no idea. No idea what was in his pocket. No idea what he was walking toward that microphone to do.
And I, her mother, the one person who was supposed to keep her safe, could not make my legs move fast enough to stop him.
They moved before he’d even finished the nod.
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I shoved forward, my shoulder catching someone’s elbow, my eyes locked on Steven’s back as he climbed the stage steps. He paused at the top and glanced back into the crowd, just once, his chin lifting toward two boys near the edge of the dance floor. They moved before he’d even finished the nod.
“Move, please, move.”
