Buttons and Shame (Buttons 4)

“Do you want to sleep then stop by in the morning?” he asked.

I sat in the passenger seat and stared at the hotel. We hadn’t checked in yet, and our bags were still in the trunk. I wasn’t sure if I could wait until morning. I wanted to see their faces. “I don’t think I can wait.”

Cane didn’t argue with me. “Doing it at night might be easier anyway.” He typed in the address to his GPS then got on the road. I’d never told him the address, so he must have hired someone to figure it out.

We drove through the darkness with the radio off. I stared at the tall oak trees that we passed on the way to the house. They were difficult to see after the sun went down, but the streetlights lit the bark and the leaves.

My heart pounded harder and quicker the closer we got. My parents were probably in bed but not sleeping, worried about me. My dad always had a hard time sleeping at night, so he must be an insomniac now. He usually had a glass of milk and a cookie around three in the morning. Claimed it helped him sleep.

When we turned onto my block, I couldn’t keep my breathing steady. I breathed deeper and harder, the anxiety setting my nerves on fire. A weight formed in the pit of my stomach, and I felt nauseated. I rested my fingertips against my bottom lip, but they kept shaking.

Cane pulled up to the curb in front of the house then killed the engine. He sat there silently as he waited for me to get out.

The door was exactly as I remembered. The flowers that used to fill the flower beds had wilted and died, probably because no one was taking care of them anymore. Even though everything looked the same, there wasn’t any life left in the property. They’d given up the moment I disappeared.

“I’ll wait here,” Cane whispered. “Take all the time you need.” He placed his hand on top of mine and gave me a gentle squeeze.

“You sure you don’t want to come inside?”

He shook his head. “Your parents aren’t going to want to see me, Bellissima.”

“How do you know they won’t call the cops?”

He stared at the dimly lit porch in the front. “I trust you.”

I took a deep breath before I finally opened the door. It was a dream to be home again, but since I was going to leave again in a few hours, it was short-lived. In a few weeks, I would be returned to Tristan, back to his torturous tactics and unaffectionate nicknames. It would be easy for me to betray Cane by having them call the cops, but I couldn’t do that.

Cane didn’t deserve it.

I rang the doorbell because I thought they wouldn’t hear my knock. I could feel Cane stare at me from his seat in the car. His look drilled into my back as he watched me. I could feel his intensity prickle my skin everywhere.

Footsteps sounded on the hardwood floor as they both came to the entryway. I heard a pause as they looked through the peephole, staring at my face in the dark. Then the door whipped open, the light from the hallway displaying my face.

My mom was in the front, her face contorted into a million different emotions at once. Tears coated her eyes, creating a film that shone under the light. Her mouth was open like she was going to scream, but a sound never came out.

My dad gripped my mom’s shoulders like he needed something to hold on to, something to keep him steady.

I knew they couldn’t believe what they were seeing. It seemed like a dream. “It’s me…”

Mom’s breathing hitched as she cupped my face with her palms. Her warm skin pressed against my cheeks, and she released a quiet sob. “Baby…”

My hands wrapped around her wrists. “Mommy…”

We sat in the living room and drank coffee and ate cookies Mom had in the cookie jar. I told them the story of what happened and excluded unnecessary details they didn’t need to know. They knew I’d been trafficked, so they knew what happened to me…even if I didn’t explicitly say it.

“You’re home now,” Dad said. “That’s all that matters.”

Telling them I had to leave again would be heartbreaking. “I have to go back, actually…”

My mom’s face paled.

“The man I’ve been loaned to brought me here so I could see you guys…but he has to take me back.”

“Who is this man?” Mom demanded. “We can call the cops right now and—”

“No cops,” I said quickly. “I hate this as much as you do, but we can’t call the cops. I can’t get him in trouble.”

“You don’t owe him anything,” Dad said. “He’s brainwashed you.”

“He’s treated me really well,” I said calmly. “He’s been the nicest man I’ve encountered since I was captured. He knew how heartbroken I was that you guys never knew what happened to me. He knew I couldn’t call you because my captor would figure it out, so he brought me here in person. He’s not as bad as you think.”