“Eli and I have this if you want to bail,” I say.
Dust doesn’t move a single muscle other than to grant me a side-eye.
“I’m serious,” I say.
“I told Addison I’d stick around until she makes her decision. Plus, if you offer her what I think you’re going to offer her, you’d have no choice but to involve me.”
He’s right. The solution we intend to give Addison, if she chooses to talk to us about her problems, involves something very personal to him, and we would never disrespect him by leaving him out. “But if you need a few hours off—”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
I’ve got nothing to say to that. I roll my neck and cross my arms over my chest. “Ms. Whitlock still looks great even when she rolls out of bed. I swear to God she’s part mermaid or something.”
“Mermaid?” He looks at me like I’m insane. I’m used to the expression.
“Didn’t mermaids tempt men? Lured them in with their beauty?”
“They’re part fish.”
I shrug. “And I said or something.”
Dust grants me another side-eye, and I wonder what it would have been like to kiss her at least once. Now, I’ll never know.
The door to the bedroom opens, and both Dust and I stand. Ms. Whitlock in all her supernatural beauty sweeps in with Addison under the shelter of her arm. “Addison and I talked, and we have questions. A lot of questions.”
“And we’ll answer them,” I say. “Each and every one.”
Chapter 21
Addison
If I leave, I’m heading to Louisville. There I’ll be staying at a house supported by a woman’s shelter that’s only for teenagers like me. No longer a minor, but not old enough to be truly independent. In theory, the people there will help me navigate breaking free from my father. They’ll mentor me, counsel me and help me figure out how to earn my degree while working to support myself.
I’m shaking like a leaf stuck on a tree during a hurricane. Occasionally, my teeth chatter. Judging by the sweat on the men in the cramped kitchen, it must be warm, but I’m frozen.
Ms. Whitlock rubs her hand along my back, but removes it when I flinch. “You’re in shock,” she whispers, but everyone hears.
I guess I am. This decision to leave frightens me to the core. “I don’t know if I can do this. My father will find me.”
“He won’t,” Dust says. My eyes flash to him as these are the first words he’s said since I walked into the kitchen forty minutes ago.
“You don’t know that,” I respond.
“You’re right.” Eli leans forward on the table across from me. “We can’t predict the future, but we can tell you that we believe in this program and they are committed to keeping you safe. If you aren’t comfortable with this particular program in Louisville, we’ll take you to wherever you are comfortable. There are women’s shelters all over the state. If you don’t want us to take you, we’ll call them, and they’ll come get you. The point of all this is for you to know you have options that don’t include returning home.”
Dust is shaking his head as if he’s annoyed. “Your father won’t find you.”
“Dust,” Eli snaps in a tone that would frighten me if I was the one in trouble, but Dust doesn’t flinch.
“He won’t,” Dust repeats, and his insistence annoys me.
“You don’t know that,” I spit out. “And it’s my life on the line.”
“I do know it.” Dust stares straight at me. “Because my dad didn’t find my sister. He didn’t find Mia, and he never will.”
I blink so hard I swear it made a sound. “Mia? As in Mia Ziggler?”
Mia Ziggler is an urban legend in this town. A girl a few years older than me who was there one day and then the next she was on the back of a Reign of Terror bike and never seen again. Rumors were that the Reign of Terror had killed her and buried her body where it would never be found.
“Yes,” Dust says. “And she’s happy. She’ll help you if you let her. I’ll introduce you myself.”
I blink several more times as the cold starts to subside and pieces click into place. Mia Ziggler is Dust’s sister. Mia Ziggler left town on the back of a Reign of Terror motorcycle. The Reign of Terror stopped Mia and Dust from running away.
“Mia and I would be living on the streets if the club hadn’t stepped in,” Dust says. “You can trust us.”
I return my attention to Eli. “Did you offer Mia the same deal that you’re offering me?”
Eli glances over at Dust, as if searching for approval. Dust nods. “She’d be okay with you telling her.”
“Yes and no,” Eli says. “The program for girls under the age of twenty-one wasn’t available yet, so we took her to a women’s shelter where she got the help and support she needed.”
“She graduated from college,” Dust says, with a hint of pride that causes dangerous hope to flutter inside me. “And she just got married. She’s happy now. She’s healed.”
Healed. The word is like a hug that I’ve never been given, but so desperately want.
Dust’s words are pretty, but I have a hard time believing them. “Will you take us? Can I meet her?” Because if I make this leap, I need solid proof that someone else survived.
“Us?” Eli asks.
That brings me up short because I made an assumption, and before I can address Ms. Whitlock directly she places her hand over mine. “I’ll go with you. You don’t even have to ask. In fact, I insist you don’t go alone.”
I exhale in relief then look over at Dust, because it’s not Eli who I want to take me, but him. He gives me a subtle nod. He just agreed, and I dare to let that spark of hope within me multiply.
Chapter 22
Pigpen
Ms. Whitlock owns a Honda Civic. It’s shiny black on the outside, and even though it’s a few years old, it still has the fresh-out-of-the-showroom smell on the inside. I’m in the passenger side soaking in the glorious fact I’m in a confined space with the most beautiful woman in the world.
She’s driving, and she likes driving fast. We’re not in a hurry. In fact, if she keeps going at this rate, we’ll be there early. But getting there in time isn’t the reason her foot is pressed down on the gas. She likes the feel of going past the speed limit. Likes the challenge of weaving through traffic and controlling her own destiny. I know because the same fire lives inside me. Maybe if I’d had the time to play my cards right, we would have had a chance.
I glance at the backseat again and wonder if what’s going on there is a picture of what could have happened or the start of something bigger. One barely eighteen-year-old and the other not even twenty. Addison had fallen asleep against the window ten minutes into the drive. Doubt she meant it to happen, but it did. Through the ride, she’s shifted until her head came to rest on Dust’s shoulder.
At first, he looked as scared as a rabbit facing a freeway, but then he relaxed, placed his head back against the seat, and he’s also down for the count. Since falling asleep, Dust’s head has angled toward Addison, as if in sleep, he subconsciously wants to be closer.