Too tired to consider the what-ifs, I murmur, “Hopefully it leads to something.”
“It will.” Grayson’s slumped shoulders straighten, proud of the conviction in his tone. “You did the right thing, freckles. And I’m here with you, every step of the way.”
Though relieved, I still seek a life raft. “I’ll remind you of that when the hierarchies come bearing down on us.”
He laughs again, unbothered. His lack of concern fills me with confidence that maybe things won’t be as bad as they seem. I’m technically on leave, so any clapback won’t occur until I return from maternity leave. Fingers crossed Kendall is found long before then.
We drive in comfortable silence for a while, the miles slipping away as we head toward the shitshow waiting for us. I keep replaying the looks of shock and curiosity people gave me. The situation was unpleasant, but having Grayson on my side made it bearable.
Although it was painful, standing up to my parents feels like a significant shift for me. I’m no longer the obedient daughter they expect me to be. I’m my own person, and I am proud of that.
As we continue down the freeway, I pull out my phone. To kill the boredom of a long trip before it is my turn to drive, I browse social media sites.
My heart rate kicks up when I scroll through the posts and comments about my speech. It’s both encouraging and surprising to see so much support for an often overlooked cause.
They tend to stay silent because they feel the shame the victims shouldn’t have, but instead of acknowledging howonerous that burden must be, they try to accept some of the load on their behalf.
That isn’t the correct action to take.
If you want to help liberate a woman from her trauma, teach her that she has nothing to be ashamed of. Show her she did nothing wrong. Love her no matter what she went through. And when the time is right, be the shoulder she needs to cry on.
That’s what Grayson did for me after Arrow Moses assaulted me, and it is what I will do for Kendall when she finally comes home.
The more I scroll, the more messages of encouragement from people missing their loved ones I uncover. It is encouraging to see that victims’ voices are now being heard internationally.
“People are reacting to the speech. They’re sharing stories and offering support. It’s incredible.”
Grayson glances at my phone screen before one side of his lips hikes high. “It’s amazing, Mace. Your speech is making a difference.”
“I hope so.” My voice is barely audible over the loud beat of my heart. “Because I really want to bring Kendall home.” Emotions drown out my following words. “I want her to meet her niece or nephew when she or he is still a baby.”
“She will.” Grayson’s tone is so convincing that I let myself believe the same. “We will do whatever it takes.”
As the sky lightens, I slouch back in my seat and relish the peace. With Grayson’s help, I trust that we can navigate the unknown road ahead relatively unscathed.
And one day, we’ll bring my sister home too.
13
GRAYSON
As the Los Angeles skyline recedes, the city lights dim and dawn breaks with a perfect orange sky. I glance at Macy, who is staring out the window while her finger does a figure-eight pattern on the frosty glass. The angst of her exchange with her parents vanished from her face within seconds of us pulling into a ma-and-pa diner at the halfway point of our travels.
Even the most preposterous task is less daunting when you have thousands of calories in your stomach. That’s why I haven’t been so hard on myself for not putting any hours into Cameron’s case over the past seventy-two. It isn’t that I’ve forgotten her. It is the knowledge that cases like the joint one Macy and I are working on, and the appeal Macy made on stage last night, are imperative in bringing women like Cameron home.
Each syndicate we take down brings me one step closer to achieving that. So guilt is there, but it’s not consuming me just yet, since it can’t push past the pride swelling in my chest.
Macy’s strength is undeniable, and watching her stand up for her beliefs made me even more convinced that she has grown into a capable and respected agent. She’s grown since leaving the academy. She’s no longer the shy, timid woman who hidesbehind others and only speaks when spoken to. The fire in her eyes announces she’s no longer finding her footing. She’s figured out how to navigate the complexities of the bureau, and I couldn’t be prouder.
I take back everything I just said when Macy cranks her neck my way, and I spot the teasing smirk tugging at her lips. It has popped up several times over the past six-plus hours, and it always arrives with a heap of sass. “Come on, Malfoy. Would it kill you to go a little faster? You drive slower than my grandma.”
“Because I’d rather not step you through hemorrhoid treatment until after you’ve given birth.”
I clenched my ass together so often when Macy took over driving two hours into our trip so I could get some shuteye that I’m sure I will need to borrow the stool softeners I forced her to buy when it’s time for the food we gorged on to come out.
Her inability to follow basic road rules rewarded me with buns of steel and a sphincter that wasn’t appreciative of how many times I forced it to crawl back into itself instead of loosening my butt’s clench and diving for the wheel.
Macy laughs like she’s not panicked about my hemorrhoid comment. “It’s not like you’ll get a ticket. The golden boys never do.”
