25. Mel

"Pancakes! Pancakes!" Gabby chants as she pounces on my bed, jolting me from my dreams like a defibrillator.

Gasping, I sit up, and when I see her smiling face, I scoop her into my arms before I glance at the clock—seven-thirty. Cute girl must have decided to let me sleep in. I don't know how she resisted waking me earlier with pancakes on her brain. Nuzzling into the crook of her neck, I give her kisses that make her squeal and squirm, and she unleashes an adorable giggle.

"What's all this about pancakes?" I demand after a thorough kiss attack. I hold her like a baby and peer down at her in my arms as she beams up at me.

"Miss Kieri makin' pancakes," she explains, her wide eyes turning solemn.

"Oh, is that what she said?" I ask, smiling.

Gabby nods. "Can I have some, Mama? Please?"

"Well, I don't see why not," I agree. "Go pick out your outfit for today, and let's get ready."

My little girl does as she's told, scrambling from the bed to rummage through the bottom drawers of the dresser, which hold her clothes so she can reach them. I smile as I watch her from my single bed that sits kitty-corner to hers. She's still working on the concept of dressing, but she's more than enthusiastic about learning. Today, she pulls out two shirts and forgets about the pants, though she manages to find her favorite pair of princess undies somewhere along the line.

And as she brings them over, I slip from the bed to help her put them on.

"Great choice," I praise, tugging the tiny long-sleeved shirt over her head. "But what about the bottom half?" I remind her.

She looks down at her bare legs and Disney princess undies. Fresh out of diapers, she's still wrapping her mind around the difference between underwear and pants. Shuffling back to the drawers, she digs around for a pair of bottoms. And the vibrant orange she picks out is going to look monstrous with her pink heart top. But I'm not about to discourage her.

Handing them over proudly, Gabby places her hands on my shoulders and tries to step into the leg before I have it ready. Pressing my lips to keep from chuckling, I help her into her pants and wiggle them up around her tiny body.

"Ready?" she asks, her excitement returning.

"Well, what about Mama? She needs to get dressed, too," I say.

Gabby's green eyes brighten, and she rushes toward the wardrobe where I keep my dresses. A lump forms in my throat as I think about how much she looks like Gleb for what must be the thousandth time. And just like that, I'm thrown into a tumult of emotion.

My eyes are tired from lack of sleep because I stayed up most of the night debating whether I would actually meet with Gleb this morning. We never set a time because I was in such a rush to get back inside before he paid the price. Now, as I let Gabby help me pick out my outfit for the day, I'm more conflicted than ever.

"This one," she says confidently as she pulls a flowing floral-print skirt from the lineup.

It's a summer dress, one that would probably get a bit chilly if I were to go outside. I could always throw a sweater on top if I need, so I drag it from its hanger. "Good call," I agree.

Slipping out of my sleepwear, I dress quickly and run a brush through both of our hair. Once we're presentable, Gabby and I make our way downstairs to the kitchen.

The rich smell of coffee fills the air, along with the distinct scent of pancakes on the griddle.

"Morning," Kieri singsongs as we enter the kitchen.

Lindsey and her son Tanner are already up and sitting at the table, as are Karinna and Lark.

"Morning," I say, combing my fingers through Gabby's hair as she suddenly turns shy. "Can you say good morning?" I encourage gently.

"Morning," she murmurs, tucking her face against my hip.

"Gabby's been looking forward to some pancakes," I say, flashing Kieri a smile. "Isn't that right, keiki?"

Gabby nods, her thumb making its way into her mouth. Gently, I remove it to take her hand and walk with her to the table. As adorable as she is when she sucks her thumb, I don't want her to ruin her teeth, so I'm trying to help her break the habit before it's too ingrained.

"Well, good thing because I made plenty," Kieri says, setting a plate down on the table in front of the chair Gabby's climbing.

I fight the urge to smile as she insists on doing it without my help. My little girl is the definition of independent, and I love it. But I also keep within arm's reach to ensure she doesn't fall and bonk her head.

When Gabby's settled, I pour myself a coffee with cream and take the seat beside her. Getting to work, I cut her pancakes into bite-size pieces.

"You girls have some fun plans for the day?" Karinna asks as she spoon-feeds little Lark.

As the newest mother in the house, Karinna's only been with us for a few months now, her little four-month-old daughter an adorable if noisy addition to the group.

Again, her question triggers my self-doubt. "We're still working on that," I say, casually brushing off her curiosity before turning the question back toward her.

Karinna seems more than happy to babble about her day plans. But my thoughts turn back to Gleb and the meeting I agreed to. And I'm still lost for a decision.

I don't know what I would do with Gabby if I did go see him. Could I bring her? He should know the truth about her if I'm seriously contemplating going back to New York with him. But am I?

All I want is to protect Gabby from the life I suffered. And New York has so many bad memories, so many dangers. I know Boston's not that much better. But at least here, I know what I'm doing. I've found something that works. And I'm doing just fine on my own.

If I went back to New York, we'd be starting all over. I wouldn't have a steady income. I wouldn't have Kieri to rely upon when I need to go to work. So many unanswered questions, and yet, I'm terrified to ask them—to face that reality and the thought of being so close to Gleb again.

It all rests so heavily on my faith in him. And though I want to trust Gleb, I just don't know that I can. He's saved my life numerous times and rescued me from the fate of a sex slave on two separate occasions. Shouldn't that prove he's trustworthy? Doesn't that show his good intentions?

And yet, when it comes down to it, he seems just as capable of being domineering and violent as the rest of the men whose hands I've ended up in, the men I put my faith in. He's never turned that violence on me, I reason. But what's to stop him from doing so when he's tired of me? There's always a period of relief—happiness even—before reality sinks in.

Kieri sets a stack of pancakes before me, drawing me out of my reverie. "I plan on painting my nails after breakfast if you girls want to join me," she suggests with an affectionate smile.

"Can we, Mama?" Gabby asks, her eyes widening with excitement, though she has no clue what that means.

In an instant, I know I need to make up my mind. Do I take the chance and go see Gleb? Or do I stay here, where it's safe?

Looking up at the matronly middle-aged woman who takes such good care of my daughter—and me—I'm filled with a deep sense of gratitude. She's made my life manageable these past few years. And only in the last few days—when Gleb came bursting back into my life—has everything I thought I wanted been turned on its head.

On the one hand, I have Gleb insisting I go back to New York with him. And though the thought of letting him drive away destroys me, I can't trust that the future he's painted for me will ever become a reality.

On the other hand, I don't like that I've caught the attention of my boss's cousin. It's turned my safe space into a hostile environment in the blink of an eye. It has raised ghosts from my past that I had thought were long buried.

It feels like the walls are closing in, my world being dictated by men's desires once again. And the familiar sense of claustrophobia makes my heart pound.

"Of course, we can paint nails!" I say, forcing a cheery note into my tone as I smile at Gabby. "We'll have a girls' day. That sounds so fun."

Gabby beams up at me, her cheeks full of pancakes, and I know I made the right decision. As painful as it is, I need to skip the meeting with Gleb. Because I'm not sure I can keep telling him no. Creeps like Vinny, I can handle, and I would rather fend off his sleazy advances than face Gleb again.

I know how to be strong when it comes to most men.

But not Gleb.

He's my weakness.

My kryptonite.

And if I let down my guard, even for an instant, I'll lose my power to resist.