“Stop sayin’ that, too, girl.” Flora chuckles this time, hastily shutting the door behind us.
Chapter Eighteen
In which there is nothing finer than the kindness of strangers.
Sloan…
Flora pushes me into the little bathroom first thing to take a shower and one look in the mirror tells me why.
“Oh, my god I’m a mess,” I groan, mentally counting all the little scrapes and cuts, the weird rash on my shoulder, and the mess of my ribcage. There’s even a tree branch snarled in my hair. A big one. I look like one of the Hill People who just blew into town still gnawing on a squirrel leg.
She knocks on the door. “I’m leavin’ you some clothes, hurry with that shower, aye? The hot water’s for shite.”
The showerhead is balanced precariously over the clawfoot tub and the water’s a bit rusty when it first streams out and it is the best shower I have ever experienced in my lifetime. Sure, the water pressure sucks but the warmth streaming down my back is heaven. By the time I hurry through scrubbing every inch of my body, there’s an appalling brown ring around the tub.
Quickly cleaning it, I open the door just enough to grab the little pile of clothes. Her daughter’s taller than me and not quite asblessed up top, but even though the shirt stretches across my breasts, everything fits.
“I dinna like the looks of your ribs.”
Flora’s gently touching the swollen, bruised-black skin over my ribcage and I flinch. “Sorry.”
“Stop sayin’ you’re sorry,” she scolds.
“Sor- I mean, thank y-” I start laughing, then wheezing when my ribs punish me with a vicious red bolt of pain through my chest.
“He do this?” Flora asks, mouth tight.
“No!” I feel an unreasonable need to defend Ethan. “I was in… a crash.”
“Ya need a doctor,” she says.
“It’s fine.” I’m not risking a clinic or a… what do they call the ER in Scotland? An A&E. They want names. ID. “I’ve broken a rib before. I just need to be careful with it.”
Her faded blue eyes here hard, her mouth tight. But Flora nodded reluctantly. “I’ve got some arnica cream to help the bruising a little.”
“Thank-” She narrowed her eyes at me playfully and my mouth snapped shut.
“There’s people who can help ya,” she says, sorting laundry on the kitchen table. “I can make some calls. We can get ya out of Glasgow.”
I pick up a dish towel, folding it neatly. “It’s… it’s more complicated than that. I’m essentially running from two different groups of people.”
Eyeing me keenly, she shook her head. “I dinna think it was something illegal. Ya don’t look the type.”
Why does this wound me? “I could be a criminal!”
Laughing at me, she shakes her head. “A’course. Let’s make a plan, then.”
“I’ve got a friend sending me money tomorrow.” This is a huge leap of faith and I have enormous difficulty trusting anyone. But Flora risked her own safety to help me. “It will be under your name though, I don’t have any ID.”
She nods, “There’s a cash app store a couple of blocks from the shop, we’ll get there first thing tomorrow, then.”
I know she’ll refuse it, so I’ll have to find a sneaky way to split the money with her. She’s brave and strong and everything I hope I can be. One day, when I’m not this anxiety-ridden, paranoid mess.
Eventually. But for now, I’m going to curl up on her daughter’s tiny twin bed and be grateful for my good fortune. I got away from the Scottish Demon. Nate and Carmella are safe, they have money. I’ve kept it together this long. I don’t care what Ethan said. I can stay on the run from my bastard stepfather for as long as I have to. Maybe I’ll get lucky and he’ll be hit by a bus or something.
A girl can dream.
I did dream that night, curled under a bedspread covered with the giant, leering faces of the boys from a South Korean boy band. I dream that Ethan’s prowling up and down the street, growling and stopping at each house, nostrils flared, searching for me. His dark eyes are glowing red, his shoulders impossibly wider, and his hands sprouting vicious, sharp claws.
