“What version of it, Sarah?”
“The only version that matters.” I skimmed his jawline with my fingertips.
He shot up out of the chair. “You’d think after seeing what Tee’s been through—how hard it was for her with all the pain meds after that plane crash and the bullshit and the omissions and how it screwed up Hayden—that you’d get what the issue is here.”
“I’m not going to develop an addiction to pain medication. This isn’t even close to the same.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, the black tribal bands on his forearm cutting across the cityscape on his other arm. “You’re right. But it’s not just about the pills, is it? What you and I have going on here, it’s not remotely like what Hayden and Tee have either. I know that. I get it, Sarah. I really do. But that doesn’t mean I have to watch you fuck your life up.”
I was shocked and confused by his comparisons. Neither Chris nor I came from particularly stable backgrounds, but we hadn’t lost our families to tragedy. And as for what Tenley and Hayden had, I’d thought we were making progress, maybe working toward that kind of connection. I guess I was wrong.
“It’s just a prescription for ADHD meds, not coke.”
“Not yet. But if you don’t see where this is headed, you’re not nearly as smart as I thought.”
“Just because someone gave me some pills doesn’t mean I’m going to turn into a drug addict. That’s ridiculous.”
“Really? You think so?” He took a step toward me. “What about Destiny? She didn’t use to be the mess she is now. You’re sliding into the same dark hole they all do. You’re no more immune to the pressure than the rest of those girls. You keep looking for an out, but then you make excuses to stay when you get one. It’s like you want to be dragged down into that pit so you can wallow there.”
“That’s not why I’m staying.”
“Then why, Sarah? That shithole is starting to seem normal to you. It wasn’t that long ago that you were ready to leave The Dollhouse, and you weren’t putting up with half the shit you are now. You let Xander walk all over you, and you moan about how much you hate him, but you’re still there, taking it.”
“You don’t understand—” It was on the tip of my tongue to finally tell him why I hadn’t walked. That it wasn’t because I wanted to be there, but because I was scared of what would happen if I tried to leave.
Chris cut me off before I could. “It won’t be long before you’re like the rest of those girls—too numb to give a shit about anyone but yourself. Then you’ll be snorting coke off some guy’s dick because it’s gonna put another five hundred bucks in your pocket.”
It felt as if I’d been punched in the stomach. This was a whole other kind of assholery—not like the office, not like the club, but personal. Chris was playing dirty and cutting deep.
I drew in a slow breath. “You can be angry at me for having those pills in my bag, but you don’t get to pigeonhole me into the same category as Candy or any of the other girls you banged along the way. Just because they made those kinds of mistakes doesn’t mean I will.”
“Looks like you’re already on your way there.”
“Screw you, Chris.”
“You ever question what you’re doing with me? ’Cause I do, all the fucking time.” His smile was hateful. “It’s like you can’t get enough of the bottom feeders, Sarah. You have all this potential, and you’re willing to throw it away for what? A little more time at the bottom before you head to the top? A few orgasms?”
My heart bruised with every verbal punch.
His eyes dropped to my hand, which twitched at my side. “Wanna hit me? Go ahead. Right here.” He stepped in close, invading my space, and tapped his cheek. “I bet it’ll feel real good.”
The coldness in his gaze broke my heart. His jaw clenched in anticipation. He was pushing me on purpose, goading me into doing something that would end this because I’d hurt him, and now he wanted to hurt me back.
A knock on the door prevented me from reacting.
“One second,” he called out and looked to me. “Last chance.”
I lifted my hand and pressed it gently to his cheek. “Don’t ever try to make me into that person. Hurting you physically wouldn’t even the score for what you’ve just said to me. And even if it did... ” I shook my head.
He blinked and stepped back, away from my touch, his conflict clear.
“Come in,” I said, dropping my hand to my side.
Jamie opened the door, glancing between us. “Your six-thirty is here early. You need a few minutes?”
“Nope. We’re all set. Sarah was just taking off.”
“Okay. I’ll let her know you’ll be out in a couple.”
“I’m right behind you.” Chris brushed past me.
I had no choice but to follow him. A stunning smile broke across his face when a petite redhead with cinnamon brown eyes bounced to her feet.
“You ready, girl?” he asked, sweeping a hand out toward the back room.
“For you? I sure am.”
The overt flirtation was yet another backhand. I should’ve been used to it. It was his way, but it hurt because it was intentional, yet again.
“It’s gonna be sensitive, so we’ll take breaks whenever you need them.” Chris put a gentle hand on her shoulder, ignoring me as he guided her into the private room.
Lisa still wasn’t at the jewelry counter. Jamie sat at his desk, ignoring me now, and Hayden was working on a design. There was nothing left to do but go back to my apartment. I turned toward the door.
“Sarah.” Hayden’s voice stopped me. “You keep going the way you are, you’re gonna break him.”
I’d never tell Hayden, but part of me thought I already had. And probably myself as well.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Chris
I tried to distract myself with TV when I got home. It wasn’t working. I was considering taking a walk down the street to grab a six-pack of beer when there was a knock at my door. It was too early for Sarah to be off from The Sanctuary, and I doubted she’d stop by anyway after the shit I said to her earlier today.
I felt bad about it, but watching her go down wasn’t something I wanted to witness. More than that, I felt responsible for whatever was happening with her right now. Somehow I was all tangled up in that mess as well.
The knock came again, more insistent this time. “Hold on! I’m coming.”
Sometimes my neighbor down the hall—the cougar who smoked so much her teeth had turned mottled yellow-black and were rotting out of her head—stopped by for milk. Mostly I think she wanted to scope out my apartment, or find out if I was a pot dealer, based on the odor that followed her down the hall. Or maybe she wanted to get her fuck on with me, which would never happen in a million years. Still, I tried to be nice to her, because people judged the shit out of me all the time because of how I looked.
I checked the peephole. It wasn’t my cougar neighbor, though, it was Ivy. I slipped off the chain lock, turned the deadbolt, and opened the door.
She stood in the hall with her ratty-looking backpack stuffed to bursting.
“Hey, little sis, what’s going on?”
She practically threw herself at me. I couldn’t understand a word through her sudden onslaught of sobbing. I carry-dragged her across the threshold and closed the door, keeping the noise inside my apartment. I didn’t need people coming out in the hall to witness her breakdown. Worse, someone could think it was a domestic and call the police. That happened a lot in this building.
Ivy buried her face in my chest, snotting all over me. Not that I cared. She was upset, and she’d come to me, so that was saying something. I’d made some progress with her.
I patted Ivy’s back. “You’re all right. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
It took a long time and almost an entire box of tissues before she was calm enough to explain what had happened. Even then, some of the details didn’t make a whole lot of sense. But it seemed to come
down to John and her money again.
“How did John manage to get access to your new bank account?”
The only way was if she’d added him on to it, and I couldn’t see her doing that, not unless something, or someone, had forced her hand.
“Not my bank account.” She hiccupped. “My tips. I’d been hiding some of them.”
“In the house?” Surely Ivy was smart enough to know if she was hiding money in the house, John would eventually find it.
“At first yes, but Dad’s always going through paperwork and stuff, and I worried he’d come into my room and find it, so I started dividing up my tips. I always made sure I passed over around fifty or sixty dollars every shift. Sometimes I’d give him a little more or a little less, just depending. Then I’d keep some out for Mom and me, so she could have a bit to spend, right? She doesn’t ever get anything for herself, so I thought if I gave her some money she might.”
I could see exactly where this was going and what had likely happened. The commiseration between daughter and mother, and the supposed loyalty they should’ve shared would always be compromised as long as John was around. As much as I hated how he manipulated my mom, I could now see that she allowed it to happen.
“So this had been going on for a few months. Mom had been squirreling it away, I guess, except she didn’t put it in a very good hiding spot, and Dad found it. He was so mad, Chris. She’d put it an empty coffee tin and kept it in her nightstand. I’d never seen him that upset before. He broke the kitchen table, and then he went after Mom. She locked herself in the bedroom, and I tried to do the same, but the lock on my door is busted and he, and he, and he—” Ivy broke into a fresh wave of sobs, high-pitched, frantic breaths dragging in as she tried to put a stopper in her emotions.
She made a ball of herself on the couch, knees at her chin, her nails digging into the worn fabric of her jeans. That kind of protective stance indicated much more than being yelled at from time to time. It intimated that she’d had reason to be afraid.
I kept my voice as even as I could. “Did he put his hands on you?”
She shook her head vehemently.
“He didn’t touch you at all?”
“N-n-no but—” Another hiccup and a heavy sob cut her off.
“Take a deep breath for me,” I said, giving her plenty of space.
She was too jumpy to handle physical comfort. Whatever the trauma had been tonight, it was bad. And Ivy wouldn’t tell me the truth—not really. She would censor, because that’s what she was used to doing.
It’s what we all did. We gave the version of events that hurt the least, resulted in the least shame, were the most socially acceptable:
I’m clumsy.
I fell.
I was playing sports.
I forgot my lunch.
I’m not hungry.
I stayed up too late.
When I’d started coming to school with black eyes, I said I’d gotten into a fight. Then I’d prove it was commonplace by instigating a brawl in the halls or the boy’s bathroom. I’d smoke at recess, pick fights with the older kids, swear in class—anything to prove the black eyes and bruises were my fault. Because the other option was to leave my mom and my sister to deal with it, and I couldn’t let that happen.
This had worked until I’d gotten kicked out. After that I realized I couldn’t protect someone who didn’t want to be protected. It had been a painful lesson, and one I still hadn’t quite grasped, apparently. I’d told myself I was the problem and all the fights would stop without me around. Everyone would be safer because I wasn’t there to cause trouble. But I’d been wrong about that, too.
When Ivy was calm enough to talk again I asked the question I wasn’t sure she’d answer. “So if John didn’t hit you, what did he do?”
“He wanted to know where I’d hidden the rest of the money. He said he knew I had to be keeping some for myself. I guess he’d had a bad night at poker and didn’t have enough to pay the debt. He’d tried to get money from the old account, but there wasn’t enough, so he came to get whatever I had.
“There were a couple of guys with him. They’d been waiting on the porch, but then they told him his time was up. They weren’t the guys he usually hangs out with. They were huge, bigger than you.” Ivy paused to take a breath; it left her on a shudder. “One of them... he, he frisked me.”
“What do you mean frisk?” There were police pat downs and criminal pat downs. I had a feeling this had been the latter.
“Like they do on the TV when they arrest someone. They had me empty out my pockets, and they checked—” Her eyes were on her feet. She wasn’t wearing socks and her nail polish was faded and chipped. She curled her toes under to hide them. “I didn’t have the money on me, because I’ve been hiding it in my locker at work.”
It seemed that was as much of an answer as she could bring herself to give me.
“What happened after you were frisked?”
“They left, and Dad went with them. When I was sure they were gone, I tried to get Mom to come out of the bedroom, but she wouldn’t. I didn’t want to stay in case he came back. I went to work to get the money, and then I thought I’d go to a friend’s house, but she was having this party, and it was too much for me right now, so I came here.”
“Do you know where John is now?”
“I have no idea. Whatever he’s done, I don’t think he’s getting out of it easily this time.”
“Is there a bar he hangs out at? A friend he’d be likely to go see?”
“There’s a couple of places, why?”
“Because Ivy, those goons frisked you, and he let it happen. Someone needs to make him understand that’s not okay to do to your own fucking kid.”
More tears welled. “I don’t want to be alone right now. Dad knows where you live. He might assume I’m here. What if he comes looking for me?”
Her panic was real. Now I knew for sure there was more to the story. But she was red-eyed, puffy-faced, and exhausted. Pushing for more information would get me nowhere.
“All right, fine. But tomorrow I’m stopping by the house.”
“I don’t know if he’ll be there.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m still stopping by.”
I rustled up an extra toothbrush for her and changed my sheets so they didn’t smell like Sarah and sex. I put Sarah’s pillow and my extra sheets on the couch so it was fit for sleeping.
Ivy came out of the bathroom wearing flannel pajama bottoms with pugs all over them and a Lollapalooza T-shirt with holes in it.
“Thanks for setting that up for me.”
“This is for me.” I sprawled across the couch, crossing one foot over the other. “You can have my room.”
“You don’t need to do that. The couch is great. I just needed a place to crash for tonight—”
“And you’ll crash in my room until we figure out what to do. I don’t care if it’s one night or a month. You look beat; you need to get some sleep.”
Ivy surprised me when she leaned down and hugged me, planting a swift kiss on my cheek. “Thanks for everything. I don’t care what Dad says; you’re a really good person.”
“I don’t know about that, but I’m trying to be a good brother, so it’s a start.”
She disappeared into my bedroom, and I turned out all the lights except the one in the bathroom. I tried to fall asleep, but my conversation with Ivy kept playing over in my head. There were holes in her story. Big ones. Ones that made me question how safe she’d been all these years—and what exactly she was facing when it came to John.
My mom could only throw her kids under the bus so many times before it backed up and ran over her, too.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Sarah
Today had been a shit sundae topped with crap sprinkles. The jerk at my internship had been bad enough, but the note from Chris and the subsequent conversation at Inked Armor had wiped out anything good about my presentation this morning. Now here I was, sitting in m
y car facing another shift at The Sanctuary. I wished there was something that would make me numb, but wouldn’t also ruin my life or make me more of a slave to Xander. The tears I’d been holding back since I left Inked Armor needed to stay where they were. I couldn’t afford emotions tonight. I had to get through this shift. Then I could see about trying to work things out with Chris, if that was even a possibility now. I hoped his anger was more a sign that there was something worth saving rather than the alternative, which I couldn’t consider at the moment.
I was relieved when Xander wasn’t on the floor. That meant I’d deal with Grant instead. This was usually better, but tonight he was in a foul mood.
“Center, back side tonight,” he told me as I approached. That was the section closest to left, again. “And don’t ask to change, because it’s not gonna happen. We’re short staffed. You’re lucky to be where you are.”
“Okay.” I was about to walk away, but I paused. “How’s Dee?”
His head lifted, eyes dark. “The fuck you know about Dee?”
“She’s my friend. I’m worried about her, Grant. Just like you.” I stared at him, and he stared back, his eyes narrowed.
“She’s been better.”
“Will she be in tonight?”
“No.” He consulted the clipboard instead of looking at me.
I sighed and shuddered, my relief overwhelming. “That’s good.”
His eyes flipped back to mine, his typical impassiveness replaced by a haunted expression. “Go serve your tables.”
The night dragged on forever. All I wanted was to finish my shift and go to Chris’s, see if he’d be willing to hear me out. I was going to have to come clean. No matter how hard it would be, I had to explain why I was choosing to stay at The Sanctuary.
Though my decision to do this gave me some peace, my worries remained. Would Chris feel compelled to take care of the situation for me? Or would he be fed up with dealing with me once and for all? Or had he reached that point already. I didn’t think so. The pain he’d worked so hard to inflict on me earlier seemed the work of someone who cared. Still, part of me worried he’d walk, and then where would I be?
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