Her face crumpled. “No,” she whispered. “I didn’t. I thought it was just a job. It seemed like a weird, over-the-top club with strict rules and high pay. But I didn’t see what was happening underneath. I showed up, did my thing, and left. I didn’t…I didn’t know that it had anything to do with selling girls.”
My stomach turned, and I clenched my fists.
“I was so stupid,” she huffed.
“No,” I growled. “You were never stupid.”
She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. “I didn’t see it. I didn’t seeanyof it.”
“Well, at least I got you out.”
She exhaled hard. “Yeah. You did.”
A fat tear rolled down her cheek.
“I guess I owe you big time for that.”
I scrubbed a hand through my hair. “Yeah…we both got shit wrong.”
Lacey’s sweatshirt had slipped farther off one shoulder, revealing the soft slope of skin I’d memorized hours ago with my mouth. But this wasn’t a moment to dwell on how muchI wanted her. The heat between us had dissipated, replaced by something heavier.
I leaned back onto the cushion, settling into the sofa like I hadn’t done since moving in a couple of months ago. The designer had told me this space would be good for relaxing and connecting with people. I’d laughed at the thought of that.
Most people only talked to me when they needed something—money, connections, or a favor no one else could stomach. Their words were calculated, their motives thinly veiled. I was a resource, a threat, a means to an end.
But Lacey was different.
She wasn’t asking for anything. She was offering something instead—her story, her truth, raw and unvarnished. And it wasn’t lost on me how rare that was, how much trust it took. She didn’t know the half of what I was capable of, and still…she was letting me in.
I’d never been one to chat. Didn’t see the point in small talk or emotional exposition. But with her?
I found myself hanging on every damn word.
“You haven’t told me yet,” I said quietly. “Why did you take her name?”
Lacey tensed. The movement was subtle—shoulders tightening, lips rolling in—but I caught it.
“You already know why,” she muttered.
“No, not really.”
She reached up and pulled the elastic tie from her bun, letting her hair fall down. She shook it out and began nervously stretching the band. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you all of this.”
“Yes, you do,” I said firmly. “You understand it’s time to be real with each other.” This conversation was the first time we’d been able to connect honestly with each other. Anything that happened between us from here on out hinged on building trust.
She didn’t deny it.
Instead, she stared at her fingers and twisted the hair band, debating whether to share more with me. “It’s hard to explain it, really.”
“Then maybe start by telling me about what happened when you lost her and your parents,” I gently prodded.
“It’s not something I ever talk about, but I’ll try,” she said, taking a deep, cleansing breath. “It was my senior year of high school. My sister had come home from college for the weekend, and my parents were on their way to drop her back at ETSU late one night. It was raining.”
She rolled her bottom lip between her teeth and then pressed her lips together again, fighting to keep the tears away.
“There’s this winding stretch of road that cuts through the ridge. Locals call it the Devil’s Spine because it’s really curvy and has a steep drop on one side. A drunk driver crossed the center line and hit them head on.”
I kept my body still, my face unreadable, even as her words punched through me.
