I feed them so many lies I start believing them myself, but the continued chaotic feel of the hospital works in my favour, adding more fuel to the story that a man mistakenly grabbed my arm, thinking I was his daughter. I spin the ending, saying he left me with the security guard as soon as he realised his mistake and Ben managed to hide with us, helping the guard hold the door in place as the threat raced past us.
Our escape from the hospital happens as soon as the main entrance doors reopen. It takes a little while, and it’s scary to see the number of people trapped during the middle of an ADV meltdown.
On the ride back to Rejoice, everyone is quiet, lost in their own thoughts or too shaken by the events to talk. My thoughts circle as much as theirs, but one question rises above the rest: Why was Brody at the hospital?
Fragmented memories start to return—his strange scent, those faint marks on his hand. It’s not a hard leap to assume he’s sick or unwell. The more important question is why doesn’t he want anyone to know?
The sombre mood continues when we arrive back and follow Omega Mother Helena to her office. The phone call between her and Omega Mother Beatrice is inclusive of everyone at the hospital. It feels a lot like an interrogation, but as each person recounts their own version of events, all it does is solidify the original statement I made.
When I ask to leave the program early, no one blinks twice. I feel both sad and relieved to be leaving but I’d rather go now than risk Brody showing up.
“Goodness gracious, the lengths some people go to get out of public speaking,” Omega Mother Helena teases, giving me a final hug before she shoos all the loitering students away.
I wait for her and together we walk towards the waiting car. But before I open the door, she stops me.
“Simona, since you are technically not a student of mine and now we are off Rejoice grounds, I don’t need to be as considerate to the policies that tightly govern us.”
I search her face, looking for a hint as to what she’s talking about. Suspicion has me shuffling and changing my stance to take in more of our surroundings just in case.
One of my greatest fears with Brody and the founding families is their reach. I’ve seen the endless sea of new faces at the functions they hold, another reason I trust only myself. My heart thuds erratically as I wonder if I made a terrible mistake coming here.
“Do you know the full quote about where there is darkness there is light?”
I nod my head carefully before continuing. “In the light there is always hope.” She waves me on, wanting me to keep going. “In hope there is always love.”
She smiles, and it’s one of those teacher type of smiles—patient, encouraging. “I was on the panel for the writing competition, and you are a deserving winner. Your essay was poignant, but it was the small kernels of truth you graciously shared with us that resonated the deepest. There’s lots of people who forget the last line of that quote, Simona, ensure you are not one of them.”
And even though she doesn’t say another word before she leaves, I hear her voice in my head.Even though you may feel it. You are not alone.
Once the gate to Rejoice shuts with a resounding click, I turn, finally looking at Ryder. He wasn’t hiding his presence from anyone.
Like on New Year’s Eve, and back at the hospital, the way every part of my body and soul pivots towards him fills me with a deep clarity that all this suffering has been for a reason.
The smile that breaks over his face when I take a step towards him is as sweetly poetic as the sun breaking dawn on a new day.
“So, we’re clear, I have never been a teacher at Rejoice. If I was a teacher though, I wouldn’t pursue anything with you, Sin. Until I’d resigned. I volunteer for this specific program because I myself was once crippled by public speaking. Considering my choice of career,” he smirks, “it made things difficult. Someone I know signed me up for a Toastmasters Intensive. Instead of anyone else having to suffer through what I did, I decided to share what works for me. I won’t ever intentionally put you at risk—any sort of risk—either. I’m haunted by the vision of you scaling a fence to evade Dale, and more recently how I found you in there.”
I seriously don’t know what tomorrow looks like, let alone what the future holds, but it feels right when I take a step towards him. All the ideas I had of not pursuing something with him fade away as I eat up the distance between us and sink into his arms, savouring the way the world quietens as he holds me tight.
Chapter
Twenty
SIMONA
“As much as I’d like to stay right here with you, doing exactly this for as long as possible, Sin, I’d also like to get you checked out by a doctor,” Ryder says softly. His words fan against the column of my neck, making me shiver. I think he missed it until I see the smirk gracing his wicked mouth.
I don’t say a word; I don’t need to either. He catches on very quickly.
“Sue me, okay? You’ve always held some monumental sway over me. One second in your company and I was changed on a cellular level. Our first phone hook up and not only did I come, but you turned my muse into a beast. I haven’t stopped writing about you or the impact it had on me.”
Says him. But one of the most talked about things about Ryder online or in any interview is his magnetism. His fans and critics alike are rabid for it, and they flock like mice scampering for a taste. I get it now. I mean, I was so hot for him before but Ryder apart from the flu is like standing undera blazing sun in the middle of summer. I light up like a glowworm at his words.
His hand stands on my lower back as he guides me to the car, and like a gentleman, he opens the door. I have to take a step back though, a heavenly, floral cloud rushing out of the car.
Ryder takes a step behind me, the warmth he omits chasing away shadows. “I didn’t know your favourite flower, so I grabbed a few. I hope you like them, Sin,” he whispers before another small press of his hand on my lower back urges me inside.
There’s barely any room inside the cabin of the car. The bench seat, where we’re apparently going to sit, is crammed full of boxed flowers. I suspect his version ofgrabbing a fewmade a lot of florists very happy. Every colour, shape, and size imaginable fills the space. Digging out my phone, I snap a photo—because if I ever get the chance to tell the Scorned Girls, there’s no way they’ll be able to picture just how many flowers I’m talking about.
