And dread because now I have to leave Ivan, for real. Maybe I always knew he would fight me when I told him I’d leave. Maybe I always hoped it would lead to something like last night, where he’d finally touch me. Finally treat me like a woman.
Now I’m leaving forever, and he’s not here to stop me. I know this is for the best. I need to stay one step ahead of the man who’s after me—and more importantly, my presence here will put everyone in danger.
I’m also disobeying Ivan, and deep inside, that feels like the worst sin of all.
* * *
I’m soaking wet by the time I reach Fourth and Lennox. It turns out there is a moat. Who knew?
Okay, it’s more like a drainage ditch, but it accomplished the same thing. Now I’m shivering in wet jeans while I huddle against the brick building. My phone gave up the fight with the water. At least no one will be able to track me with it. I toss it into a gutter before melting back into the shadows.
I’m still in the upscale side of Tanglewood, near where Ivan lives, so I don’t want to be seen. A woman without a car or a man nearby would definitely stand out.
The cherry-red hatchback pulls to a stop at the curb, and I hop inside. “Hey.”
Clara gives me a look that says she’s going to need more of an explanation than that. Fair enough. She deserves some answers, but I’m going to have to be careful. The more she knows, the more likely she is to go digging, asking more questions when I’m gone, getting herself into trouble.
“So, where are we going?” she says, as casual as if we were going to hang out at the mall. And now I’m suddenly depressed that we never got to hang out at the mall. It would have been sweet to do something normal, for her and for me. We both grew up sheltered. We had that in common.
“We’re going to the truck stop down I-32. That’s where you get off this ride.”
She doesn’t seem surprised about that. Just worried. “I’m supposed to leave you in the middle of nowhere?”
“No,” I say patiently. “At a truck stop. That’s somewhere.”
Her eyes flash. “And if you get killed, I’m supposed to be okay with that?”
“I’m not going to get killed.” Not that she would find out if I did. At the very least I’ll vanish before my hypothetical murder takes place. “Anyway, this isn’t…it’s not a game. It’s not a party.”
She knows about my party habits. Well, everyone does. Not to brag, but I’m kind of infamous for it. I think Clara even guessed why I did it for so long. We’re very different, the wild stripper and the quiet artist, but we have certain things in common.
Worry enters her eyes. “If it’s not a game, then what is it?”
“I’m leaving. For good.” And because I know she’ll argue, I add softly, “I have to.”
She opens her mouth and then closes it. She must have figured out that an emotional denial wouldn’t sway me. Smart girl. I glance toward the backseat. Her backpack is half-open, rolled up paper peeking out from the zipper.
“Shit,” I say. “Were you at the studio or some shit?”
She rents space in some kind of studio co-op so she has space for her large sculptures.
“At two o’clock in the morning?” She sounds amused. “They aren’t even open.”
“How the hell would I know?” I sigh. “I’m the worst influence. I shouldn’t have called. You were probably sketching. Or you know, sleeping.”
“Something like that,” she mutters.
I’ve hit a nerve. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she says, obviously lying.
I’m torn between curiosity and a strange protective desire to hide her away from the world. Is this what Ivan feels about me? No wonder he always looks like he has a stick up his ass. It’s maddening. “Clara.”
She snorts. “So you can keep your secrets, secrets which might get you hurt, secrets that mean I won’t ever get to see you again after tonight, but I have to tell you everything I’m thinking.”
I hear the pain in her voice, and my heart squeezes. “I didn’t think you would miss me,” I whisper.
Her hands tighten on the steering wheel. “Well, why not? I thought we were friends. Won’t you miss me?”