29
TERA
“Are you okay?” Xander asks for the fifth time.
I nod, just looking out the window, taking in the sights. “I like to look out the window whenever I go somewhere now. I get to see everything I haven’t for over a decade.”
“Even if LA is mostly traffic?” he teases.
“Even if. It’s soothing and calms my mind.” I turn to look at him. “When we get back, I’ll need to paint. I know we don’t leave until late tonight, so that’s okay, right?”
“Anything, Tera. You never have to ask,” he assures me. He kisses my forehead. It’s meant to be comforting, and it is. But as the SUV nears the gallery, I begin to shake.
“Tera,” Carter calls softly.
I look at him. “I’m okay. This is something I talked through with my doctor. It’s necessary, and she’s on speed dial should I need her.”
He looks skeptical as does Shea.
I don’t care. This isn’t about them. It’s about me. It’s about what I need. I think Carter needs this too, to see where… it happened.
The SUV stops, and I look at the front of the gallery, the large glass windows, the precious art beyond. It takes me a moment to muster the courage to open the door, but I do—well, I try to, but security beats me to it when I reach for the handle. They don’t touch it before. I’m sure Xander told them to give us time.
I step out of the SUV and notice a man in a suit standing on the side of the building.
Cage Nichols.
His hands are buried in his trouser pockets while he waits patiently, watching as I take the first step onto the concrete. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, I never can. His sunglasses shield his eyes which makes it even more difficult.
I remove mine. I want to see everything clearly.
“Carter?” I call out.
“I’m here,” he answers.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Okay.” I take his hand in mine, then Xander’s in the other.
“Cage,” Xander says by way of greeting.
Cage just nods. “Security let me know you were coming here. I wanted to be here for you, Tera. I hope that’s okay.”
“It’s more than okay. Thank you for your support,” I answer. As Lucy said, he really is a gentle man to those he loves.
I let go of Xander and Carter’s hands as we near the back of the building. My throat goes dry, my heart thumps so hard in my chest it almost hurts.
Fear. Anxiety. Post-traumatic stress.
Anger.
I walk to where my car was parked as if on auto-pilot. The others follow at a distance. I don’t even see them now. I’m back there but not as me—as an observer.
“My car was parked right here. I was worried when I came out. It was after one in the morning. I was opening my car door when they called out. ‘You dropped your scarf’ is what he said. It wasn’t mine. He knew that though. It was a ploy to keep me from getting to safety. I realized my mistake too late, so I randomly dialed, hoping I’d reach someone. Anyone. I didn’t know if I had or not. I just… hoped.”
“They were talking. One mentioned art and how he does graffiti. I pretended my phone was dead when they wanted to put a phone number into it. I wanted to go. I told them I needed to go, but she leaned against the door. She was so pretty, but her eyes were hard, and it was in that moment, I knew I was in trouble.”
