Beautifully Broken

I nod again, and then it hits me. Damian’s not ready to let me go alone into public, never mind me not being ready. This is a huge step for both of us.

It’s odd, thinking Damian can feel fear, just like the next person.

My lips curve up into an encouraging smile. “Go, Damian. I have your number. If something happens, I’ll go to the most public spot and phone you. I’ll be okay.”

He pulls his arm back as his eyes drift over me, and then he nods. “One hour.”

Opening the door, I get out of the car and quickly walk away before I can change my mind. As I enter the mall, my eyes dart to every person in my near vicinity, assessing whether they could be a possible threat.

My heart begins to beat faster, and everything around me seems overly bright and loud. Then a wave of panic starts to build inside of me, making me wrap my arms tightly around my waist.

Shit, calm down, Cara.

It’s just a mall.

You’re okay.

I focus on taking a couple of breaths and lower my eyes to my feet.

“You can do this.” My voice is nothing more than a desperate whisper.

An elderly woman shuffles by me, way too close for comfort, and I cringe to the side before scurrying away from her.

“You can do this,” I let the words out on a harsh breath.

Shit, so many people, so many sounds.

I suck in a deep breath and whisper to myself, “I can do this.”

Only after ten minutes of aimlessly walking around do I start to relax a little, enough to notice the different stores. I dart into the nearest one and go for a display of shirts.

They are more for summer, but I take two anyway. I just want to get this whole shopping trip over with as quickly as possible.

I mix and match, trying to create some sort of style, seeing as all my stuff was left at the motel in Scappoose when I was taken. I make sure to get comfy underwear, too, and some much-needed toiletries.

I keep an eye on the phone, watching the time, and then a pretty pair of jeans catches my attention. I wander closer, and on impulse, I take them. I also buy a pair of sneakers, boots, and two sweaters.

By the time I’m done and back outside, I have ten minutes to spare. There are no missed calls or text messages from Damian, so I hope it means everything is going okay with the job he had to take care of.

Guilt slithers into my chest because I didn’t even tell him to be careful. I was so focused on myself.

With my teeth tugging at my bottom lip, I glance at the entrance, watching for Damian’s car.

I wonder what the job was? Did he kill more people? Did he save someone?

Before more questions can fill my mind, Damian pulls up in front of me.

When he climbs out of the car, his features are tense, and his worry-muscle is jumping aggressively. He helps me place my purchases in the trunk and then ushers me to the passenger side, practically shoving me into the seat.

I watch as he rushes around the front of the car, and after climbing behind the steering wheel, he drives slowly away as if nothing is wrong. His fingers grip the steering wheel hard until the tips go red.

“What’s wr–” A groggy-sounding groan stops me from finishing my question. Goosebumps spread over my skin as I glance over my shoulder to the back, and then I quickly cover my mouth with both my hands.

God.

There’s a girl covered with a blanket lying on the back seat. She has a split lip and a bruise on her left cheek.

My eyes snap to Damian just as he glances at me. “Don’t worry about her. She’s okay.” My eyes creep back to the girl, then Damian adds, “We’re staying the night with her before her father will come to get her.”

Slumping back in my seat, I think to lower my hands from my mouth, and then I stare out the window while my heart thumps crazily in my chest.

It’s okay.

“Are you okay?” Damian asks.

Even though I’m not sure what I’m feeling, I nod.

“Did you get everything you needed?”

I nod again, willing my heart to calm down.

We don’t go back home. Damian drives for hours before he finally pulls over at a shady-looking motel. I kept quiet during the drive, not having the guts to talk first.

As soon as we stop, I scramble out of the car.

“Stay with her,” Damian orders, and then I watch as he goes to the reception area.

My eyes dart back to the girl, and I notice she’s still unconscious. She looks younger than me, and I feel a twinge of compassion for her.

Instead of being swallowed by my own trauma, I take in the fact that Damian saved another life. I don’t care who he had to kill to help the girl. I only care that he rescued her, and soon she’ll be home with her dad.