"Doctor's orders," I add before she can object. "Someone needs to monitor you for concussion symptoms. Make sure you're not getting worse."
It's not the whole truth. Yes, the medical protocol requires observation. But I've seen what desperation drives the Cutters to do. They're not known for leaving witnesses. In their drug-addled minds, she might need to be silenced.
I won't risk it.
"I don't want to be a burden to anyone."
"You're not." The words come out firmer than intended, and she looks up at me in surprise. "Can I ask you something?"
She nods, though wariness creeps back into her expression.
"Why are you living in that van?"
Her shoulders hunch like she's bracing for impact. I see it starting, the scramble for a story, the panic of someone backed into a corner.
Her eyes dart around the room, looking anywhere but at me. The classic tell that means she's about to lie.
"Lucy." I move closer, keeping my voice level and calm. "Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Lie to me." I crouch in front of her so we're eye level, close enough to see the gold flecks in her brown eyes. "I need you to understand something. In my house, under my protection, you don't lie to me. Ever."
Her eyes widen, and I see fear there. Not of me, but of whatever truth she's carrying.
"If you're not ready to tell me something, say that. If you don't want to answer, I'll respect that." I keep my voice gentle but firm, the tone I'd use with a spooked horse. "But don't lie. I need to know what I'm dealing with by having you here."
I pause, let the weight of the next question settle before I ask it.
"Have you done something illegal? Are you involved with drugs?"
The last word comes out sharp, edged with old pain I thought I'd buried.
Katherine's face flashes through my mind. My high school sweetheart, the girl I was going to marry, dead at twenty-three from pills she hid so well I never saw the signs.
She'd started with prescription painkillers after a car accident. Said they were helping with recovery. What shedidn't tell me was that she'd been crushing them, snorting them, chasing a high that eventually required stronger stuff.
By the time I found out, she was buying fentanyl-laced pills from dealers who didn't care if their customers lived or died.
I came home from a late shift to find her on our bathroom floor. Blue lips, no pulse. The paramedics worked for twenty minutes, but she was already gone.
The lies had poison in them. They killed the woman I loved and made damn sure I'd never fully trust anyone again.
"No." Lucy's voice is rock-steady now, her eyes locked on mine. "No drugs. Nothing illegal. I swear on my mother's grave."
I search her face, looking for the tell, the micro-expression that would give away deception. But she's calm, certain. Scared maybe, but not lying. Not about this.
"Okay." I stand, giving her space to breathe. "That's all I need to know for now."
"For now?"
"You're hiding something. Running from something. That's obvious to anyone with eyes."
I move to the window, looking out at the mountains that have always brought me peace. "When you're ready, if you ever are, you can tell me. But no lies between us. Deal?"
She nods slowly. "Deal."
"Good. You should rest. I'll be in the living room if you need anything."
