“Sure. I’d do whatever would make this easier for you.” I opened my eyes to find her chewing on her lower lip while she stared at my hand. “You’ve shouldered so much of this alone. Fox helps.”
“Yes,” I whispered. Words weren’t enough to describe how much he’d helped me just by staying at my side. By holding me and taking care of me when I wasn’t strong enough to do it for myself.
I’d never had that luxury before.
“He’s an amazing guy, and I’m so glad you have him. But I’m an adult now too.” Her chin came up, pride etched in every line of her beautiful face. “I can handle it, Ame. Even if, you know, you talk about it. The details of what happened years ago.” Her eyes shined. “It’ll hurt me, and I’ll probably cry, but I swear to you, I can take it. I can be your shoulders for a little while.”
“I never wanted you to know.” I bowed my head, shame making my voice shake. “Protecting you was all that kept me alive.”
“Now you have other reasons.” She brushed at my tears, her fingers as gentle as her tone. “He would die for you.”
Tears streaming, I nodded. I knew that more than I knew what name I was using today. What persona would greet me when I met my eyes in the mirror.
Tray was more real to me than myself.
“You have to stop hiding it. You have nothing to be ashamed of. You did nothing wrong. Do you hear me? Absolutely nothing.” She wrapped her arm around me and tugged me to her chest, as if she was the older sister. And I went, because I guess hadn’t used up my allotment of needing to be coddled yet. “You’ve been nothing but strong, and brave, and invincible. But eventually, Supergirl, you gotta take off the cape.”
“I don’t know how.” Except I did. Last night, I’d shed everything. Without planning, without thought. All my armor had just dropped.
“Yes, you do.” She sniffled and kissed the top of my head. “Let the dude carry you over a few puddles for a change. He carried you last night, and oh my God, it was so hot. Seriously. If he wasn’t my almost brother-in-law, I would’ve jumped on that in a hot minute.” She gave me a watery grin when I looked up. “After he set down the semi-unconscious girl, of course.”
I laughed and shook my head. “I wasn’t unconscious. I could hear everything. I just couldn’t bring myself to respond.” Before she could reply, I sighed and rubbed the heels of my hands over my damp cheeks. “I know it’s not good. I know I have to tell the doc, and maybe even listen when she gives me a course of treatment.”
Like medication. She’d suggested anti-depressants in the past, but I’d refused them. I didn’t want to be a zombie.
I also didn’t want to keep fighting every minute of every day for the rest of my life. I wanted some peace. And if I’d find a measure of it in a vial, then maybe the strongest move I could make was taking that step. Admitting that I couldn’t do it on my own.
God knows I’d tried for so fucking long.
“We’ll go together,” Carly decided, rising. “Make the appointment.” She bent and grabbed my crumpled jeans, tossing them into my lap with a grin. “Get dressed. I’m going to take a shower then I’ll make us some foodage. Feel like waffles?”
“With strawberries and honey?”
Her grin broadened in spite of the bruises under her eyes. In them. “Well, lookee there, I just happened to get some fresh last night.” The bathroom door clicked shut behind her.
Fisting my hands around my tangled panties and jeans, I debated getting dressed. Instead I tossed my clothes aside to grab Tray’s laptop from the coffee table.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I typed in the words Olivia Latimer and the name of my hometown in Georgia. My heartbeat thudded painfully in my ears while I waited for something—anything—to come up. She was probably just his wife. Why did it matter now? All these years removed…
There were a ton of Olivia Latimers, and none of them popped as anything unusual. RNs being lauded for service to the public, the occasional human interest bit. Nothing that made me click further. I searched through two pages, and sighed, wondering why I was wasting time when I should be cleaning up the apartment and oh, calling my therapist to set up an emergency session.
The shower turned off in the bathroom. Carly took epic showers, so I’d obviously been fruitlessly digging for longer than I thought. I was about to close the window when an article from almost five years ago caught my eye.
Settlement in Missing Persons case reaches three million dollars.
Biting my lip, I clicked on the link and started to read the short article. I read it again when the words blurred.
My aunt Patty’s name was mentioned. And Darren’s. And someone I took to be his widowed wife. Her name was Eloisa, not Olivia. Amelia—aka me—wasn’t mentioned because I was an underage trauma victim. A load of crap, that, because my name had been mentioned a million times in the rags by that point.
What I couldn’t make sense of was the fact there had been a civil suit, one that had been resolved a couple of years after Darren’s death. One I had not been a part of, or even made aware of.
And the settlement had reached Three. Million. Dollars.
My face flushed and my fingers cramped around the edges of the laptop. This didn’t make any sense. I had to be misreading the article. Aunt Patty had lived in a modest home. Carly had said she’d started making a few upgrades after I’d moved out, but nothing outrageous.
How could I not know if I was a millionaire?
Because you’re not, dummy. She is. She took the money in your name.