“So her and Jack?”
“Yep.”
Holy fuck.
Chapter thirty-two
Staring at myself in the mirror of the airport bathroom, I breathe a sigh of relief. After Sasha fucked me and left, it took around fifteen minutes of panicking before I pulled myself together. I’ve done enough thinking and crying over this entire situation, and it’s time to get the hell out of this state and go home.
Home.
It’s annoying as hell that the first place I associate with that word is our cozy cottage, and it’s going to take a lot of therapy to get past this pain. My entire world is in my carry-on that I hastily packed, leaving behind almost everything in my rush. I knew if I didn’t buy a ticket and call a rideshare as fast as possible, I’d lose my nerve and wait for Sasha to come back and use me again.
I don’t have a home anymore.
I should be out of tears at this point, but as they swell in my eyes again, I have to reassure a kind old lady that I’m fine. Splashing water on my face, I head back out to the gate to wait for my flight and grab some snacks.
An uneasy feeling creeps up my spine, as if I’m being watched, but I think it’s reasonable to be paranoid at this point. I mean, I just escaped a fucking murderer who’s obsessed with me. Not to mention Lawrence, who had been texting my phone nonstop with increasingly deranged demands and threats. Based on every episode of detective shows I’ve seen, he seems to be in a full manic episode with little-to-no grip on reality. And based on how much Sasha hates him…it’s a good thing I’m getting out while I still can.
I deactivated my old phone, sending one last text to Amanda to read whenever she rejoins civilization, and gave her my new number. It’ll be shitty of me to immediately dump all of this on her as soon as she’s back, but I was there for her when she decided to get a perm right before prom, so she’ll have to suck it up. I have a grand total of five contacts saved on this phone, including Blanche, and I feel a pang of guilt for leaving her without saying goodbye.
As eccentric a character as Blanche is, her hugs and love for her family reminded me of my mom, and it hurts to have met her and now have to leave. She’s exactly the type of woman you want to have in your corner for advice. I have a feeling I could call her to help me bury a body or help me win a baking contest, and she’d have tricks up her sleeve for both. Her children are lucky to have her, and even though I only spent a short time with the Sinclair kids and their spouses, I’ll miss them.
Against my better judgment, I give in to my urge to tell Blanche goodbye. She was too nice to me, and I at least want her to know I’m okay and left of my own accord. I’ll keep it short and sweet, and hopefully, she won’t see it until I’m across the country.
Me:
I’m sorry but I can’t do this anymore. Everything with Sasha has been too upsetting, and I need to go back home and start over. I can’t tell you how much getting to know you and your family has meant to me, and I’ll miss you all. I wish you all the best. - Lucy
Another pang of regret shoots through my chest as I consider what life could have been like if Sasha had just pulled his head out of his ass and listened to me. If we stayed together after our contracts with Blanche ended, maybe he would have wanted to live near Kat for a while. He was basically an honorary Sinclair already since Blanche loved him so much, and I’m sure he’ll be united with the family in blood soon, based on what I’ve heard about Henry and Kat’s relationship. Thinking of Sasha as an uncle makes me think of Sasha as a dad, but that pain is so crushing I can barely breathe.
“Ms. Sommers?”
A gate agent pulls me from my reverie, looking annoyed, as if it took her a few tries to get my attention.
“Yes?”
“There’s a call for you at the desk, if you’ll follow me.”
Okay, weird. Nobody is supposed to know I’m here. Maybe one of the estate workers saw me leave with a suitcase and snitched to Blanche. I know for a fact that one of the housekeepers had his eye on Sasha. I bet he jumped at the chance to try to get me in trouble…
This doesn’t look like the gate…
The agent has led me through a doorway into a small utility room, with mops and buckets lining the walls. I turn to try to exit the door we just came through, but the last thing I feel is a cloth over my nose and mouth, before everything is black.
“For just five payments of $69.99, this special collector’s edition can be yours!”
“I’ll tell you, Tim, this was my mother’s favorite show growing up, and I think this would be just perfect for her for Christmas.”
“If I know your mom, and I think I do, I agree! She loves to watch her shows in bed, and now she won’t have to sit through commercials!”
What the hell?
The bizarre infomercial continues in the background as I wake up, my brain trying and failing to get my bearings.I’m pretty sure Tim is fucking that guy’s mom. $350 for a box set of a TV show? Where the hell am I?
It’s the last thought that makes me open my eyes, only to see…pitch black. Reaching for my eyes, I…can’t. My arms are tied behind my back, and my legs are tied to whatever chair I’m sitting in. Adrenaline and panic flood my veins like lightning, and claustrophobia slams into me like a freight train. I can’t stop the helpless, panicked breath that escapes, and the TV in the background is silenced.
“Well, look who finally woke up.”
