"We'll be right outside if you need anything."
I turn away and face the back of the couch, running through all the bad days of my previous life. The psychological torture Jon put me through, the verbal lashings, the physical punishment. My head is throbbing so bad I almost want to throw up again.
But I think of Ronin instead. Of all the ways he's treated me nice since I met him. Even Ford, who is still a very weird guy who probably has some not-so-innocent intentions with me. But he's nice too, and he seems to care.
And Spencer, and Antoine, and Elise. Even Billy and Josie.
I have a whole new life filled with people who are nice. People who don't think it's OK to hurt me.
But what if Jon decides he needs to hurt them too?
I start crying again, because I can handle him hurting me, but I would never be able to live with myself if he hurt one of my new friends.
Chapter Twenty-Seven - RONIN
Clare's sleeping when I finally make it to the treatment center just past two. Antoine and Elise are already back at their little apartment and I'm not even gonna bother stopping in there, I just want to make sure Clare knows I'm still around. I sit down next her and smile when she begins to wake up. She's so much better than she was last week. Not out of the woods yet, but definitely better.
"You're back," she mumbles, still very drowsy from the methadone treatment.
"I said I would be. You didn't need to panic, you're gonna give Elise a heart attack, making her call me and threatening to stop treatment if I don't come."
"I was afraid you'd ditch me for that girl."
"Well, I wouldn't ditch you. It's not an either-or choice, Clare. You'll like her, you'll see."
"Are you staying?" She's having a hard time keeping her eyes open now, it's only a matter of time before she dozes off again.
"No, sorry. I have to get back. But I'm rooting for you, you know that right?"
She's out. And it's a good thing, too. Because if she was at the tail end of her dose instead of at the onset, she'd be a lot harder to deal with. It sucks to say it, because it's all kinds of wrong, but she's so much nicer when she's sedated.
I go back out and tell the reception girl I'm leaving, then get back in my truck and start the three-hour drive all over again.
I've been trying not to think about Spencer's phone call, but it's hard not to, now that I'm heading back and there's nothing else to occupy my time. This makes the drive back to the Shrike Shop agonizing because all of the calm that came from seeing Clare asleep and getting better has been wiped away by Spencer's words. They just repeat over and over in my head. Panic attack. Missing person's report. Married.
That f**ker married her.
The rage inside me as I picture her being legally tied to that violence is almost too much and by the time I pull the truck into the driveway, I'm ready to kick someone's ass.
Ford and Spence break from the crowd of crew members out near the shop and start walking towards me. I just stand still, trying to calm myself. Spencer recognizes the look on my face and jerks his head out towards the woods.
It's like deja vu as the three of us veer off the driveway and head north towards the little bend in the river. Even when we meet up, we say nothing, just continue walking until we are under the cover of the trees. Once there we follow the little footpath down to the river bank— the sound of rushing water just loud enough to layer over our words and make them unintelligible should anyone be listening.
Old habits.
I look at Ford, then Spence, and state matter-of-factly in a low voice, "This dude's gettin' wiped. Let's vote."
"I'm in," Spence says.
"I'm in," Ford says.
"I'll wait and talk to her, of course, but I don't see a way around it. It's done."
We walk back out, part ways in the middle of the yard, and I head to the house and they veer off back to the party.
I stand outside for a minute to calm myself, then reach down and pick a pink daisy from the front garden. It's just a weedy little thing, half wilted from the afternoon sun, but I want to brighten up her day and this is all I have.
I open the door quietly. Spence said she was asleep on the couch the last time I talked to him on the phone, so I make my way over to the living room and ease myself down in the large leather chair across the room.
When she told me what happened to her back in Chicago I processed it, then tucked it away. I've met lots of ass**le guys who hit girls. I've met lots of girls who get hit. But I've only ever dated one besides Rook.
That's how I caught on to her erratic behavior so fast when she showed up. I knew the first moment I saw her crouching down in that stairwell outside the studio door that someone had mistreated her. But I had no idea how sick that f**ker really was until she told me about the beating that finally convinced her to leave.
She made it clear that she wasn't interested in getting the guy back or putting him away. And I don't blame her one bit. But I should never have agreed to her request. And I have no excuse. Spencer was right there. Ford was on his way. It was almost too perfect.
But maybe a blessing in disguise. We know what we're up against now. Computer forensics specialist with the Chicago PD is nothing to dismiss and had we not known that little detail before making plans, we'd almost certainly be f**ked.
But we are far from f**ked now.
Rook inhales quickly several times, proof of her earlier panic attack betraying her resting body.