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To the Ends of the Earth (Stripped 5)

Page 28

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She clears her throat. “Anyway. Do you want to talk to her? Oh, you can read her a book!”

“Let me guess. She picks If You Give a Mouse a Cookie.”

“Ding ding. Should I point the camera at the pages so you can read it?”

“Ha! I had it memorized after the first two hundred times. Just turn the pages for me.”

There weren’t bedtime stories in Harmony Hills. Only Bible stories. Cautionary tales about women who made the wrong choice, who were tempted by sin. From the very beginning, Eve was tempted by the apple in the Garden of Eden. Is that what I’m doing here in Chicago?

Am I going to burn?

I wish I could forget every verse I ever learned, but I can’t. They’re buried too deep, imprinted on my soul. It’s hard to tell where my thoughts end and the Bible begins sometimes.

Is that how it will be for Delilah, dreaming of mice? Will the stories she loves now torment her when she’s older? Will she be tempted by sin? Maybe there’s no escaping it, whether it comes in the form of an apple or a cookie.

Chapter Sixteen

In the morning I’m dressed and waiting in the living room when Luca emerges from his room wearing sweatpants, a T-shirt, and sneakers. He plans to abandon me to the hotel room; I can tell.

“I’m coming with you,” I say.

He narrows his eyes but lets me come.

I spend the day with Allie and her adorable little girl, Bailey. It’s a joy to watch her run around the unforgiving warehouse, her smile lighting up the whole place. She tells me about her ballet lessons with Aunt Rose and her hamster named Fred.

Allie and I discover we have something in common besides ghosts from our past. We both love baking. She runs a small catering service that specializes in baked goods for weddings, baby showers, and children’s birthdays. I’m in awe of what she’s accomplished, even with a little girl. It gives me hope for my future, that I can make something of myself besides a waitress at dive bars.

When I tell her about my pies, she offers to buy some from me. But I don’t have a kitchen. And more importantly I’m not sure how long I’ll be in town.

Only a week, if all goes well. And if it doesn’t…

Well, if it doesn’t go well, I won’t be anywhere on earth.

Luca told the truth when he said yesterday was just the beginning. Today Colin pushes him harder, demands more of him, gives him meaner competition. By the end of the day Luca wavers on his feet. I have to bite my lip to keep from going to him when he steps out of the ring. I clench my hands into fists to keep from holding him, supporting him. Without asking I know he’d hate that sign of weakness. So I remain on the bleachers as he staggers to the showers, wondering how bad the real fight will be if this is only the second day of training.

Chapter Seventeen

I know why he didn’t worry about the small cut on his temple yesterday. He has ten cuts like it all over his body when we get back to the hotel suite. There are new bruises on top of the old ones, turning black and blue and yellow.

It’s late by the time we leave the second day, dark outside. It’s been raining while we were inside, the scent of wet city concrete rising up from the sidewalk, a little different in every city. Luca doesn’t shower this time, and he shakes his head when I reach for him.

“I’m a mess,” he mutters.

He means sweat and blood, but it’s more than that. He feels more raw than before, as if the hits he took in the ring have reached inside him. My stomach clenches as I realize that this fight won’t just hurt him physically. It’s shining light into dark places.

Maybe this is why he doesn’t want to fight anymore.

I let him keep his isolation through the lobby, where we get sideways looks from everyone, even the people behind the desk. In the elevator I stare at my reflection in the mirror—blue eyes bright with worry. Blonde hair darkened by rain left in the air.

When we enter the suite, he heads into his room and closes the door. To shower?

I set down my bag and my book more slowly, wondering what I should do. Wondering what I even want to do. The safest thing would be to leave him alone.

It’s bedtime for Delilah, so I call her and read If You Give a Mouse a Cookie.

Twice.

Then I’m left to wander back into the living area. His door is still closed.



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