Thoughts of doubt came into my head. I was about to push them away when I began to indulge them just for a second.
I scanned her face to see if there was any way she could still be attracted to that man and want him in her life. I quickly concluded there was no way she was still interested or had any feelings of attachment to him.
Judging by the look on her face when she spoke of him, I had nothing to worry about in that department.
“So what do you want to do then?” I asked. “I want to help you however I can so just tell me what you need me to do.”
Savannah drew in a deep breath and visually held it before letting it all out. “I just don’t know. What can I do? I feel helpless, like I have to wait for him to hurt me or Alana before anything can be done by law enforcement.”
A thought came to my head. “What about his parole officer?”
She stared at me, a look of realization in her eyes. “His parole officer...” She repeated plainly, almost as if she’d never thought of that before.
I nodded. “He has to have one. Anyone put away for a violent crime and let out early would have to have a parole officer.
“You should call Detective Detwiler,” I said. “Or his parole officer. Someone needs to know he’s pushing boundaries.”
Her eyes lit with realization. “His parole officer. I hadn’t thought of that.”
I hadn’t meant that very moment but that was how she took it. Savannah had her phone out, scrolled through her contacts, found the detective’s number, and pressed call.
I said nothing. I sat watching her, sipping my coffee, occasionally glancing at Alana to see her quietly and happily coloring a bright flower in a pot.
“Hello, Detective Detwiler,” she said in a low voice. “This is Savannah Gilson. I’m calling because my ex-husband tried to see my daughter at daycare today. He doesn’t have permission, and I’m concerned he’s violating his parole. Could you helpme find out who his parole officer is? I think they need to be informed. Please call me back.”
She ended the call and set her phone down, letting out a shaky breath.
“You’re doing the right thing,” I said softly.
She smiled faintly, and for a moment, the worry lines on her face eased. Seeing her relax, even slightly, filled me with a quiet determination. Whatever came next, I’d be by her side.
Chapter Thirteen
Savannah
I plunged my hands into the sausage mixture, squishing it together with the cheese. These were my comfort food. My famous sausage balls were a fan favorite among my friends, and tonight's batch had to be perfect.
Hidden Pines had a charm in how small it was, and living so close to Jackson meant running into him often. Thinking about the afternoon when I’d seen him at the corner deli, and it felt natural, like he belonged in my daily life. That thought made me grin.
Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who thought so. Alana, my sweet and overly observant daughter, had already asked twice if Jackson could be her daddy.
Twice. In one afternoon. I’d been too stunned to give her a straight answer and instead told her, “We’ll have to wait and see.” She gave a little sigh and whispered,“I like Mr. Fireman,”that tugged at my heartstrings.
I’d been that way as a child, too, and was proud to have passed that on to her. She still had her moments of being a toddler but for the most part, she was a very good speaker and very mature for her age.
“What are you doing, Mommy?” she asked without looking up. She was back at the table now, diligently tracing letters in her alphabet book, which I was determined for her to know before she went into preschool next year.
“Making sausage balls,” I replied, rolling another one in my flour-coated hands.
“Why?”
I glanced over at her. She hadn’t stopped tracing the letters, forming it with her lips as she moved her hand.
“Because we like them, my friends like them...”
She was quiet for a moment. “Does Jackson like them?”
Her tone was so casual, but the question hit me like a freight train. “I… I don’t know,” I stammered, glancing over my shoulder. “I don’t think I’ve made them for him before.”
