𝓒𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓪

I returned home that evening. Violet wouldn't be back from Florida for another day.

I went into the kitchen, taking out a few pots and pans, and the cookbook Mini lent me.

Mini visited often, especially now that I was alone. Today was going to be one of those evenings.

I went to open the front door after the sound of a knock.

"Clara," she smiled, "doing okay today?"

Immediately, I thought of Maverick and then the man with the motorcycle, Owen.

Mini followed me into the kitchen, "the police officer visit you again today? What's his name? Maverick?"

I nodded. I didn't talk to Violet as much, so I reserved to Mini, only about situations concerning Maverick.

"Clara, I really think you should give him a chance. He's persistent and he's never said anything mean to you."

"But he's a man," I said quietly. "I can't trust him."

"Well, you can't trust anyone at first. As far as I know, I see no red flags."

I opened the cookbook, looking for a recipe.

"Clara, I could talk to him. I could meet him first-"

"No... Please, just no." I looked down. "I can't."

I flinched as she put a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry... I don't want to pressure you, but I feel like it's helped Violet somewhat. She has Dominic. It's someone to confide in." She paused for a moment, waiting for me to speak. "The longer you hold in these trauma's, Clara, the harder it'll be to talk about it and heal." She spoke gently, rubbing her hand on my shoulder.

I nodded.

It's just hard.

"I want you to know I'm here for you. If you need someone to talk to, I'm always here. I care for you, Clara."

I nodded, letting her lie roll in my brain.