I put on one of his T-shirts to sleep in, part of me a little afraid it will be my last chance to. Balancing the world’s weight on my narrow shoulders, I approach the couch and get down on my knees beside it. I just want to look at him. His face so peaceful in sleep, reminding me of the time that felt so long ago when he snuck into my house, just to hold me in his arms. I ache for the two kids who snuggled in bed, so blissfully unaware. I ache for the girl who thought he just didn’t want to be tied down, and that was why he refused to give her a label. That girl could never be where I am right now. That girl wouldn’t have just spent 40 minutes trying to scrub another man off her, she wouldn’t have let him fuck her while she wore the $800 heels he bought her.
That girl was free to have a $5 spaghetti dinner with Vince, able to meet his eyes without the strain of guilt, never knowing how much that was worth.
I’m not that girl anymore.
I’m this girl.
And I hope that’s good enough, because it’s all I’ve got.
Reaching out a hand to tenderly brush a lock of dark hair off Vince’s forehead, I give myself one more moment before I give his arm a little shake.
His eyes open, squinting at the light first, but then he sees me. Brushing the sleep away, he pushes himself up in the seat and looks around for his phone. “What time is it?”
“Late. Or, early, I guess,” I tell him with a tentative smile.
His gaze moves over me, taking in whatever he can. “Are you okay?”
“Mmhmm,” I say, nodding. “I’m good.”
“Did he hurt you?”
I shake my head, meeting his gaze, but feeling my heart plummet as I do. I try to be convincing, knowing I have to sell it—he can never know what actually happened, and now that I know we don’t have to worry about it again, I’d prefer he just think nothing did.
He frowns, as if unconvinced.
I’ve already anticipated this, so still kneeling on the floor, I touch a hand to his thigh. “Something good happened tonight.”
“Something good?” he asks skeptically.
Nodding, I say, “I didn’t tell you on Monday because we were having such a nice time and I just wanted us to enjoy ourselves, but on my way to school, I got stopped by these two guys. Cops.”
Concern jumps in his eyes then, and I’m not sure for whom—his family, himself, me? “Cops?”
I nod. “They asked me a bunch of questions, wanting me to turn on you guys. Promising me safety if I did.”
“Jesus, Mia,” he says, pushing up even more, his alarm growing.
I hurry up the conclusion, not wanting to cause him any further stress. “They were on Mateo’s payroll. He sent them. Obviously I didn’t know that, but…”
He sinks against the couch, dread growing instead of dissipating. “He was testing you.”
I nod again. “But I passed.”
His eyes are still trained on me, full of alarm and confusion. “So…what does that mean?”
“It means I pleased Mateo. Surprised him,” I amend, grimacing at my clumsy wording. “He said he believes he can trust me now. If I would’ve talked, it would’ve been then, when things were so… terrible.”
His gaze drops as he probably remembers how he helped make things terrible for me that particular morning.
I reach for his hand, pulling his attention back to me. “But the really, really good thing is, he’s giving me my freedom back. My life isn’t tied to us anymore, and… and he’s rewarding us.”
Knowing Mateo, he doesn’t appear convinced. “How?”
“He’s going to give us a place of our own. He’s going to let us move out, so things aren’t so hard. So we have a chance to just… be with each other. We’ll have something of our own. Something he won’t touch.”
“Something he won’t touch?” he reiterates, understandably doubtful.
“He gave me his word. Said the game’s over.”
Vince is still frowning. “The game’s over?”
“We’ll come for Sunday dinners, but that’s it. No more of… all this.”
I wait for him to accept it, but he doesn’t. I can understand why. It’ll take time, probably for both of us. I just want us to actually get that time.
“If you don’t want to, I guess maybe I could just go back to my mom’s. I know they’re moving in with Brax soon though, so they won’t have a room for me.”
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “No, I… I want to, I just… I don’t understand why he would do this. This isn’t his style. Mateo doesn’t let people out without a heavy payment for it. It’s for the most part unprecedented, and the only time I can think of him actually doing it is in exchange for five years of someone’s life. He’s letting us out because you didn’t talk? There’s no reward for not talking, just a penalty if you do.”