Healing Haven - Book 2 in Haven Series [Complete]

24| Battle Scars

Stretched across Hailey's bed, Alyssa swept her gaze over the outfits her niece held up. A blue sweater with dark wash jeans, or a grey cardigan, white tee and black leggings. "They're both cute, but the blue one really compliments your colouring."

Hailey's smile flashed, a crowding of adult teeth in a small mouth struggling to accommodate them. "Cool." And tossed the discarded option over a chair—heaped under a mountain of other less acceptable outfits.

Tugging off her t-shirt, Hailey threaded her arms through the sleeves and pulled the sweater over her head. The vibrant cobalt warmed the golden notes of her skin, enhanced the amber in her eyes. She had Eva's eyes, Alyssa thought, chin propped on her fist. And the same thick, dark hair that tumbled in wind blow waves. She'd grown it long so in a year or two it would hit the edge of her narrow waist. And for a moment, Alyssa could almost see Hailey grown up—the kind of woman she'd become. A quick flash where her entire future played out in a blink and made a rise of emotion tighten in Alyssa's chest. There'd come a time when she'd almost given up hope that she'd ever see them again.

Birthdays and Christmas', graduations and prom—the promise of them had faded, from the edges inward, like a photograph held to a flame, the fire curling in and obliterating each image. Each hope. One after another, leaving behind only ash. Only smoke.

And now, sitting here, discussing clothing and school and boys, those images took shape from the ashes. Became whole and tangible and real. They might change with time, but never again would they disappear.

Alyssa had her family back. She was whole.

Shrugging on the tight jeans, Hailey assessed herself in the mirror. Her body was caught between the awkward stages of womanhood and adolescence. Her hips were rounding out on top of stick thin legs. Long arms and a budding of breasts she was proud to acknowledge with a training bra—white cotton with pink hearts.

When she was done, Hailey flopped giggling on the bed next to Alyssa and stretched out, arms over her head and hair splayed around her like a dark halo. Her skin so bright and glowing with youth that it made the scar all the more visible and prominent. A scar that Alyssa had never noticed before as her niece had always hidden behind turtle necks or decorative scarves to cover it up.

Realizing what she was looking at, Hailey stilled, grin vanishing, and though she didn't move to cover it up Alyssa sensed that she wanted to.

"May I?" Only when Hailey nodded in permission did she lift her hand to carefully stroke her finger across it. A hint of white slicing across her the left side of her throat, thin as an eyelash. Stark even against her pale skin. Not much more than an inch in length but knowing why it was there, what it represented, chilled her straight to her core.

Sitting up, Hailey regarded Alyssa over the curve of her shoulder. "Mom finally told you, huh?"

Because this wasn't a conversation Alyssa wanted to have on anything other than an equitable level, she sat up as well, scooted next to Hailey and nodded. "Yeah, we had a long talk about a lot of things. You especially."

"When you first got here, mom told us that we shouldn't worry you. Said you'd be too hard on yourself."

"She meant well." Sighing, she looped an arm around Hailey's shoulder. "I'm so sorry you guys went through that. I'm so sorry you were alone."

Hailey's gaze lowered and her shoulders lifted with a sigh, shrugging off Alyssa's touch. "It was hard. Lucy didn't really know what she was missing, which was so not fair. And Payton...she just got quiet, until like last year—barely said a word. Now you can't shut her up." She smirked but the gesture didn't quite reach her eyes. "I was angry for a long time, though. I wanted to blame mom. Some days I kinda did—but it wasn't her fault. I see that more clearly now. She did the best she could. Gave up everything for us. And she'd do it again if she had to. As many times as she had to." 

Alyssa thought about that night and about what Eva had told her with the hitman—his knife at Hailey's throat, about the surge of protective rage that inspired her to sacrifice herself for the sake of her children. Her family. And closed her eyes.

No, there was nothing her sister wouldn't do to keep them safe. To keep them all safe. Such was the love of a mother. It was swift, and sure and without limit. Beyond self. And right now Alyssa could only thank whatever powers that be her sister was safe, her nieces were safe. Her family was whole.

Opening her eyes, she watched as Hailey's hand pressed to the side of her throat, skinny fingers with blunted tips cupping over the offending mark. Her nails ragged and uneven from gnawing teeth.

"I hate it," she grumbled. "I wish it would go away."

Alyssa pulled that hand down, twined their fingers. "Why?"

"Because it's ugly," she frowned. "Because every time someone sees it they have to ask what happened. And I don't like telling them. People look at my funny now. Like I'm...broken or something."

And that punched a little too close to home. She knew the kind of pitying glances Hailey would have endured. The uncomfortable silences and awkward embraces. The meaningless platitudes. People were clueless in their ignorance, not that she blamed anyone. What the hell was someone supposed to say in the face of that? Clearing her throat, she bumped her shoulder against Hailey's. "I have scars too."

Brown eyes shot up to her. "From what?"

"Cancer."

Shock coloured Hailey's cheeks. "You had cancer?"

Alyssa nodded.

"Were you scared?"

"Very."

"Did you think you were going to die?"

"I did." And admitting that was like swallowing chunky bits of broken glass. Voicing that fear, that terror—almost as malignant as the cancer itself, had once been impossible. For a long time she'd thought doing so was to give it power, but over time realized it was the not voicing it that made it stronger. Darker. Talking was necessary. Vital. To purge that emotion and grief so that it wouldn't fester and spread.

"Having scars doesn't make you weak, Hailey. It makes you strong. It means something tried to hurt you, but you overcame you survived. Took me a long time to see that. To understand that."

Like Hailey, she'd once hated her scars. Hated what they'd represented. What they would say to the world if anyone saw them. That her body had been weak. Broken. Almost beaten. It was Vinny who showed her otherwise when they'd first met for her consultation—and now she celebrated them. Considered them to be a bold declaration and a massive fuck you to death. It had come for her, but she was still here.

Breathing. Living. Fighting. They were her battle scars. A reminder that she'd fought--fought hard, and won.

"That's what Ms. Loch says, too. Mom takes me to this place where I can talk about my feelings." She rolled her eyes at the last word, but there was a distinct lack of defiance to her tone. "It's been helping, I guess. Sometimes we don't even talk about what happened, just lots of other stuff. Good stuff. Ms. Loch is pretty cool. Not like most grownups. She's kinda like Marshall, y'know? And you. You don't treat me like a kid."

"I'm glad, because you're young but you're not a kid. And while I know there are things that you're not quite ready to hear or know, that doesn't mean you're incapable." She stroked a hand down Hailey's back, over those waves of soft, dark hair. "I'm proud of you."

Hailey glanced up at her and a glimmer of happiness returned to her wide, brown eyes. "Y'know...I didn't miss much about life back then. But I missed you. I missed you the most. I'm glad you're here."

As Hailey's arms slipped tightly around her waist, smiling around the glint of tears, Alyssa hugged her niece, gathered the solid, comforting weight of Hailey filling her arms and her heart and her soul.

"Me too, baby girl. Me too."