Burn Me Once Burn With Me (Ruby Grayson) novel Chapter 53

"Hey! Ruby! What brings you here? Looking for Pamela, right? I'll go grab her for you!"

Gone was the stern attitude from before; the woman leapt up excitedly, gave Mira's chubby cheeks a loving squeeze, and grinned wide as she hurried off in search of Pamela.

It wasn't long before Pamela appeared—trailing behind her were a few other neighborhood ladies who'd just said their goodbyes earlier. They all came running out, eager to greet Ruby.

The scene made Ruby smile. There was something unexpectedly heartwarming about it all.

She felt at ease leaving Mira in these women's capable hands, watching as they cooed and played with the baby. Then Ruby slipped away to a quiet corner with Pamela.

"Pamela, I might need to go back home for a few days," Ruby said quietly. "But I can't bring my daughter, and I was hoping you could look after her for me."

Pamela's kindness had always come from a genuine place—just simple warmth and the unspoken bond that mothers share. Compared to Cameron Lockridge and that so-called "nanny," Ruby trusted this honest woman far more.

"Of course," Pamela replied without hesitation. "Don't worry about a thing—leave your little girl with me, and you can pick her up when you get back."

Relief flooded Ruby. Before leaving, she chatted for a while with the other women, grateful for their support.

Mira nestled quietly in Pamela's arms, content and peaceful, not making a sound.

After handing over Mira's bottle and a bag of baby clothes, Ruby stepped out and caught the city bus.

She dropped in two coins for the fare.

Her bank card had been frozen again—even her wages from that cleaning job were inaccessible.

Ruby leaned against the window, watching the trees flash by in reverse. Her thoughts were heavy—she'd have to find a new job as soon as she got back.

Maybe it was just her mood, but as she stepped off the bus, the clouds outside thickened, and the sky pressed down with a gloomy weight.

Within moments, a light rain began to fall.

Raindrops stung her forehead and ears, cold and sharp, making her wince as she hurried through the drizzle toward the house.

She rapped on the door—"thump, thump"—then pushed her wet bangs out of her eyes. They clung to her forehead, sticky and hot.

She knocked again, several times, but no one answered.

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