“They won’t.” Not if Flamell was moving forward with his plan. I wasn’t going to tell her what he intended to do. The girls were one of the biggest pieces of Kat’s death, of Pratt’s hand in the drug distribution in the city, and we knew that it was only a matter of time before the other people associated with him started singing like canaries to get plea deals and lessen their own sentences.
“They’ll get help, Della.” I’d bet a lot of money that they wouldn’t get another option. That didn’t mean they’d stay clean if they were forced into a rehabilitation facility and released after a court allotted sentence. That was up to them, like Katrina’s choice to take the drugs that’d ended her life. Whether Della believed it or not, she wasn’t responsible, and holding onto guilt, onto what-if, would only send her under.
“You can’t put blame on yourself for what she decided to do. Understand me?” I could tell she didn’t, but she nodded. “Look at me. I’m not going to let you do that to yourself. Whatever happens from here on out is up to you. To us.”
She blinked, looking at me but not really seeing. It was like the thoughts in her head blinded her. “What if we left?”
That took me by surprise. “Left?”
She withdrew her hand. “What if we left the city? Left it all behind. The drama. The past. The things people know me for. Could it be that easy, Theo? I don’t think I could survive another trial. The press, the tabloids, I don’t want to be put through that again if my father is brought up.”
“Is that what you want?” My business was here, but I could do things remotely. Hire somebody to deal with things at the office. Fuck. I could sell if I wanted to. If it meant walking away with the girl, making her happy, I would.
“I want…” She paused, staring off again like she was lost in thought. Whatever was on her mind, it consumed her because I doubted the picture frame of us at her graduation was that interesting to look at right now. “I want you. I want seclusion. Quiet. Distance. Maybe it’s selfish, but I want to escape this place. Not the way Kat wanted me to or Sam or Gina. I want to be me, and I don’t think I can be that here. Not anymore.” Licking her bottom lip, she lifted a shoulder. “I don’t think I was ever me because nobody allowed me to figure out who that was.”
“I think that sounds good,” I admitted. Better than good, but I didn’t want to scare her with how much I wanted to kiss her and tell her we could leave tonight if she wanted to. I knew she wouldn’t.
Her brows lifted. “You do?”
“I love you, Della. If you want to leave, we’ll leave. I’ve thought about it for a long time and there was only one person who kept me here.” I smiled. “It wasn’t Dallas, sweetheart.”
The smallest smile curved her lips as she leaned into me, her forehead resting against my shoulder as she exhaled. “I need to talk to Sophie and Lydia. And…do you think it’d be a bad idea if I went to Kat’s funeral if she’s having one?”
I kissed her head. “I don’t think that’d be a bad idea at all. I’ll go with you. We’ll keep an ear out for a service, okay?”
“You hated her.”
“I hated her family and what they made her into. Not the same thing. Even if it were, I’d still go to be there for you.” Her lips brushed my collarbone. “Doesn’t matter the situation, you need me, and I’ll be there.”
“What if I always need you?”
“You’re stronger that.”
“Why don’t I feel it then?” she doubted, moving closer to me. I wrapped her up and hauled her into my lap. Ramsay barked from the floor and watched me embrace Della on the couch. “He’s angry he’s not the one being held by you. Fairly sure he’s in love with you.”
I chuckled at that. “He’ll have to deal with being second.”
“Let me guess, Dallas is the first?”
The second I snorted, I heard a soft laugh against my chest. Her body loosened as I shifted us again, my back against the cushion with her side pressed against my front and her legs stretched across the cushion beside us. “You’re a smartass, you know that?”
“But you love me?” she asked.
“On a scale from one to Dallas?” I mused, kissing her head again as she leaned into me. “I can honestly say my life wouldn’t be the same without you in it. Now, you need to try eating something. Don’t let what happened throw off the progress you’ve made. Wouldn’t want Ripley to get after you again.”
She groaned, probably thinking about all the pamphlets her therapist had sent home with her after her last session a few days ago. “I know going to a group isn’t the worst idea, but it feels like sitting around a circle and exchanging stories about how we starved ourselves or made ourselves vomit is a bad idea. Like it’ll give us reason to start again.”
“It’s for support,” I reminded her, a conversation we had when she’d let herself into my office after the appointment and went on a thirty-five minute rant about how Ripley had wanted her to join a recovery group focused solely on eating disorders. I hadn’t gotten a word in edge wise the entire time she told me about it, only nodding so she knew I was listening. When she’d finally taken a breath, sat in the chair across from me, and politely declined Abigail’s offer to get her something drink, I said, “It might not be such a bad idea.”
She hadn’t said anything about it since.
“She cares about you, Della. It’s not a bad thing to have an army behind you. If we do choose to go somewhere else, imagine what it’ll be like to not have her in your life.”
I reached forward carefully and grabbed the plate, handing it to her. She wrapped her fingers around the edges and rested it on her lap, giving me a heavy sigh in return. “I appreciate everything she’s done for me. I’ll admit, I’m not sure what it’d be like not talking to her about life after so long. Do you think we’d go far? I mean, Sophie is still here. I know she’s a grown woman, but she and Lydia are the only family I have left.”
I rubbed her arm as she picked up the fork and sliced into the pancake stack after putting her syrup on them. “I think Sophie needs to accept you’re also a grown woman who can make her own decisions. Including where you want to live. Truthfully, I think getting out of the city is exactly what you need. What both of us need.”
She got quiet. Too quiet as she slowly ate a few bites of her food. If I could see her face, I’d bet she was staring off into the distance, or looking down at her plate but not really seeing what was there. I wondered if her tongue was poking out past her lips in concentration, or if her nose was scrunched over her thoughts.
Finally, she broke the silence. “What do you think Sophie is going to say when she finds out about us?”
Well, I knew she wouldn’t throw a party, but I wasn’t going to tell her that. Della was probably assuming the worst. “I’m sure it’ll be an adjustment for both her and Lydia. For a lot of people once they know.”
She squirmed slightly. “I think Lydia suspects. She told me…” Her faded words made me rest my chin on her shoulder in wait. “Did you save the artwork I’d given you when I was younger? The stuff that I drew on scrap pieces of paper.”