The Ravishing

Maybe they’d suspect with Archie not here, there was no reason for me to stay. Finding my brother was all that mattered. He was vulnerable and needed me. Every decision felt like it made a difference to whether we survived this.

“Here she is.” Mom walked toward me with open arms.

Entering the kitchen, I fell into her hug, pressing my cheek against her chest, feigning I was the good daughter who needed them. Wrapping my arms around her, I acted like she was all that mattered in life. They were all that mattered. Playing into their game, I hoped to convince them I was oblivious to what they were.

“I’ve been frantic,” she said breathlessly.

“Mom.”

“My poor baby,” she cooed.

The sickly scent of Dark Dahlia enveloped me, that familiar perfume bringing back every memory screeching like a car crash in my mind.

“I couldn’t sleep until you were home.” She planted a kiss on the top of my head.

My cheek pressed against the scratchy fabric of her jacket.

She held me at arm’s length. “We did everything we could.”

“I know,” I said, trying to be cheerful.

“You’ve suffered a terrible ordeal.”

“He didn’t hurt me,” I offered.

“When you’re feeling up to it, you can tell us everything.”

“Maybe we should take you to the hospital?” Stephen’s compassion was almost convincing. “We don’t want to force you.”

I lied with a smile. “He let me come back to you.”

“Your father made it happen.” Mom’s tone was full of pride. “He reached out to his contacts and got you home safe.”

Really? Because I kind of think I came back of my own volition.

“Are you hungry?” she asked kindly. “What can I make you? We can order in if you’d like.”

“Can I talk to Archie?” I made the request sound casual.

“Of course.” She shrugged. “Let’s set up a call.”

“When is he coming home?”

“When we feel it’s safe.”

“It’s safe for me.” I subdued the taint of sarcasm.

“I’ll let you two catch up.” Stephen strolled by us. “Glad to have you home, pumpkin.”

We both watched him walk out with the stride of a man who seemingly held all this together with his sheer will.

With him gone, I felt braver as I turned back to Mom. “Where were you?”

Her lips quivered as though suppressing tension. “There’s been a lot to do. Your father and I worked relentlessly to get you home.”

“You never called the police?”

“Cassius threatened that if we did . . .” She delivered the rest with a pained expression.

Don’t go there.

Don’t do this now.

Don’t risk it.

Yet, the questions burned bright. I couldn’t go on pretending the distance between us hadn’t always been there. Maybe some part of me wanted to believe these people really did love me and wanted to deny they were masters at gaslighting, spewing lies, twisting reality, and wearing me down.

A sob caught in my throat. “Why didn’t you take my hand?”

The corner of her lip twitched. “At Mardi Gras?”

Yes, at fucking Mardi Gras.

Back when I’d wanted to be saved and believed what was ahead of me with her was safer than the man waiting for me in the crowd.

Not forgetting all I knew about Cassius was crucial. Holding those threads of truth that threatened to fade. Wiped out if these two had anything to do with it.

She gave a dramatic sigh. “I thought if I took your hand, he was going to shoot you in the back.”

Ice surged through my veins.

Because that could have been the plan all along, and maybe, just maybe, I’d not seen it because of the turmoil of every passing second.

Her tears welled, and she was overcome with emotion. “Letting you go was the only way to save you.”

Bringing myself back from the brink, I whispered, “You did the right thing.”

She swiped a tear. “I was confused and scared. If anything happened to you, I would have been the one to blame.”

Hugging her again, I wrapped my arms around her and tried to comfort her.

“Are you sure he didn’t touch you?” she said coldly.

Shaking my head, I didn’t look at her. I tried to hide my eyes that might reveal how much I loved that man and how much I missed him. Giving him up and coming back here had been the hardest thing I’d ever done.

“Why did he take me?” I looked up at her now, wanting to see the lies spinning behind her façade.

“Why does any man do such a thing? For money, of course.”

“He has money.”

“Well, that may be true, but he wanted your father’s gold.”

“He took me, too.”

“Let me get you something to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.” I followed her across the kitchen, annoyed at her fussing, the way she opened the fridge and peered in as though trying to keep busy.

“When will Archie be home?”

“He’s not as strong as you.” She let that sit as an excuse.

“Mom?” I laid the word down as an accusation. The what the hell are you not telling me kind.