Better (Too Good series) by S. Walden Page A

been?!” The tears leaked—one right after the other—soaking her mother . She wanted her to feel it, ache for those tears, that pain of separation and despair.
    Mark backed away to give them their space . It wasn’t his place to step in, but he would if Mrs. Miller said or did anything hurtful. He was resentful of her for going along with Mr. Miller’s insane plan to disown Cadence, and he couldn’t understand how a mother would even allow it. Maybe she didn’t have the backbone. Maybe she, too, was scared of him. Everyone in the whole damn world seemed to be scared of Mr. Miller. The anger in Mark’s heart intensified. He wasn’t sure he wanted Mrs. Miller to touch his girlfriend after all.
    “I was wrong,” Mrs. Miller said, pulling away from Cadence and looking her in the eyes. “I was wrong to stay away. Your father . . .” Her voice trailed off.
    “He can’t tell you what to do!” Cadence cried.
    Mrs. Miller averted her eyes. “I’m not strong like you, honey.”
    “I needed you,” Cadence said. “And you weren’t there. You’re my mother!”
    “I know,” Mrs. Miller replied. “I’m still your mother.”
    “Are you?” Cadence wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands.
    “Always.”
    “Then why won’t you come and see me?”
    Mrs. Miller breathed in deeply. “I have to be respectful of your father.”
    Cadence’s eyes went wide. Mark narrowed his and decided now was the appropriate time to intervene.
    “What?” Cadence breathed.
    Mrs. Miller tried to explain. “He’s the head of our household, Cadence. I can’t go against his wishes.”
    Cadence’s mouth dropped open.
    “That . . . that’s his role in our house. He’s the head. I-I’m being obedient.” She sounded like she wasn’t altogether sure she believed it.
    Cadence star ed, unable to absorb the words.
    Mark put his arm around Cadence’s waist. Mrs. Miller tensed at the sight of him.
    “Hello,” she said stiffly.
    “Lydia,” Mark replied, inclining his head.
    “But he’s wrong,” Cadence whispered. “Why are you obeying him if he’s wrong?”
    “It’s not that simple,” Mrs. Miller said.
    “Actually it is,” Mark argued. “It is that simple. You have a daughter who needs you. And you reject her because your husband’s crazy.”
    “Don’t you dare—”
    “He is crazy,” Mark interrupted. “And selfish. And abusive. And you know it. But you had a chance to show Cadence that you weren’t like that. That you love her and care about her and will do anything to have a relationship with her. You’re her mother, for Christ’s sake!”
    Mrs. Miller’s eyes glazed over with fresh tears. Mark averted his eyes. He couldn’t look at her. He was too tempted to tell her what a pathetic woman and mother she was.
    H e tightened his grip around Cadence’s waist instead. He focused on communicating to her how much he loved her—how he would always fight for her and protect her.
    “I have to go,” Mrs. Miller said.
    Cadence said nothing. She just stared at her mother perplexed. It’s the look a child gives a parent when she truly has no idea what she’s done wrong. You see the brain working hard, trying to understand, but clarity remains elusive behind furrowed brows.
    “Cadence, I . . .” But there was nothing left to say. Mrs. Miller turned and walked away.
    Cadence craned her neck and watched her mother walk out of the store and out of sight.
    “We can go home,” Mark said gently.
    She shook her head. “I want bedding.”
    “Cadence, let’s leave all this. It’s not important right now,” Mark urged.
    “Yes, it is!” she screamed. A few heads turned in their direction. She walked over to the sheets sets and started searching. “Maybe a neutral color?” she asked, ignoring the tears that plopped onto the plastic casings.
    Mark approached her with the cart and played pretend. She wanted to buy new bedding, so he’d help her. It was excruciating watching her cry as she searched through colors