"I meant it," he said. "Whatever happens, I’m not walking away."
I wanted to say I wanted him to, but it would have been a lie. Instead, I said, "One disaster at a time." I'd tell him about his son after we dealt with the block. One disaster at a time.
He gave a half-smile. "Fair."
I got in the car, started the engine, and watched him through the window as he walked away. He didn’t look back.
On the drive home, I kept replaying the words. Suppression, insulation, hobbled. I’d spent my whole life thinking I was broken, when the truth was, I’d been kept on ice. How long had I had this spell on me? Since childhood? High school?
The thought made me angry, but it also made me feel, just a little, hopeful. If it could be undone, maybe I’d finally get to be myself. For real, not just the half-version that had survived until now.
As I pulled up to the house, I spotted Bryce’s bike on the porch, a fresh streak of mud on the tires. I felt the old fear creep back, but for the first time in days, I didn’t let it win.
I’d tell Zaden the rest, when I was ready. I’d tell Bryce, too.
But first, I’d get my freedom back.
One disaster at a time.
Chapter 13
Zaden
The barat nine a.m. was a different animal than the one I ran at night. Morning sunlight caught in the dust above the liquor shelves, each bottle lined up, labels turned just so for no one in particular. The real reason for my nerves would arrive any minute. I checked the clock, then the door, then the clock again. Krystal was never late, but this morning she was running behind. My phone buzzed, and I hoped for her name, but it was only a group chat from Drake, already complaining about the day’s forecast. I put it on Do Not Disturb and waited.
At 9:12, Krystal’s car pulled into the lot. I watched through the front window as she sat with the engine running, hands tight on the wheel, eyes staring dead ahead. She looked like someone about to step into a dentist’s office, or maybe a police lineup. After a long minute, she killed the engine, got out, and shouldered her way to the door.
The bell gave its usual jangle, but she flinched at the sound.
She looked different this morning. Not in any big way, but the little things stood out. Her hair was pulled back so tight it must've hurt, clothes were too neat for a day off, and she worezero makeup. She carried herself with the rigid grace of a soldier, all forward motion, no wasted effort.
"Morning," I said, keeping it light.
She hesitated in the doorway. "Hey." Her gaze flicked around the empty room, checking corners and shadows. Had she always done that or was the habit new?
Krystal fiddled with her keys, spinning them around her index finger until they clattered. She caught them before they hit the floor, then stuffed her hands in her jacket pockets. "You want to get going?"
I nodded, grabbed my keys, and led the way. The walk to my eleven-year-old truck was short but heavy. I kept to her left, giving her space, but she still hugged her arms tight around her ribs.
Once inside, she buckled her seatbelt and stared out the windshield. The silence was thicker than the fog on Main Street.
"Do you want coffee or something before we go?" I asked.
She shook her head. "If I have more, I’ll vibrate through the seat."
I let it drop. I started the engine and eased out of the lot. Eleanor lived in Knoxville, which was a good hour's drive from Stock Creek.
For the first ten miles, neither of us spoke. I glanced over every now and then, catching her watching the blur of trees or the strip of blacktop ahead. She kept her hands in her lap, thumbs pressing hard into her skin.
I wanted to say something, anything, but every phrase that came to mind sounded fake or inadequate. Krystal wasn’t the type who wanted comfort. She wanted the facts, the plan, the odds stacked and accounted for.
About halfway there, she broke the silence. "Did you know my mother kicked me out when I told her I got pregnant?"
I glanced over. Her jaw was set, but her eyes were dry. She stared at the road, not at me.
"I didn’t," I said, careful.
"She did. Not right away, but then she did as soon as she realized I wouldn’t give up Bryce." She snorted, bitter. "Said she was teaching me a lesson."
