She was cold. She was numb all over, her ankle throbbing, her heart knotted inside her chest. “Take me home,” she whispered.
He did. The cabbie hadn’t left, but Vivian was barely paying enough attention to be relieved. She was silent through the ride, staring out at the city that had always been her home, watching tall buildings and dark windows flickering past. The window was icy against her cheek. On the seat between them, she reached for Leo’s hand. He jerked it away, but a moment later it was back, and his fingers curled tightly around hers.
The ride back might have taken five minutes or five hours. None of it felt real. If it hadn’t been for those two sensations—the chill of the glass, the warmth of his hand—she might have believed that everything around her was only a dream.
She had her answers. And she was out of time.
She didn’t let go of Leo’s hand while he paid the cabbie or while they climbed the stairs to her cramped, ugly little home. She hadn’t stopped to lock the door when they left, and soon enough they were inside. She dropped his hand to close the door behind them, then turned, her back against it, her palms pressed against the wood. “Leo,” she said softly.
He didn’t seem to know what to do with himself, fidgeting with his hat as he paced from one side of the room to the other, spinning it in anxious circles until he lost his grip and it tumbled to the floor.
“Leo,” she said again.
He stopped in front of her, breathing too fast, and finally looked at her. “What are you going to do?” he whispered.
There had been ice holding the pieces of her together, but that whisper cracked it. She grabbed his coat and yanked him to her, needing the feel of his mouth, his body, anything to remind her that for a few hours more she was still herself, still alive, still free.
For a moment, his weight pressed her against the door, and then his hands were at her hips. It was only a few steps from the door to the bed; he lifted her easily and tumbled them both onto it. She sat up so she could push his jacket away, but instead she clung to it, her breath coming in shuddering gasps.
“Leo, you gotta help me,” she begged. It hadn’t seemed real, until that moment, like something from a film instead of her life. She hadn’t believed that she would have to go to that station in the morning. “You can get me out of town, right? I can head for Chicago or—”
“I can’t, Viv,” he said, his voice cracking. There were tears in his eyes, the only time she had ever seen him cry. The pads of his fingers pressed against her skull, her cheeks, as though he was afraid she would disappear in front of him. “You know what he said. He’ll come after my father. I can’t…” He pressed his forehead against hers, and he was shaking. “Please don’t ask me to choose.”
“I won’t,” she whispered, her eyes closed. “I won’t, I’m sorry. Icouldn’t go anyway. Florence and…” She gasped back a sob that wanted to escape. She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t. “I’m just so scared, Leo. I’m so scared. I can’t…”
His mouth caught hers as her words trailed off, and she could taste salt on both their lips. She kissed him back, fingers going to his waistband to yank at his shirt, frantic as they slipped underneath.
Leo’s hands, normally so smooth and sure of themselves, were clumsy as they fumbled at the buttons down the back of her dress. Vivian drew away just long enough for him to pull it over her head, her own fingers greedy at the buttons of his shirt. She was cold, so cold, she would never be anything but cold again, but his skin was warm and she sank against him as he tugged his own shirt off and threw it aside.
His weight on top of her as he kicked his trousers away, his mouth against her skin, his fingers tracing a path down her body that made her shudder. None of her rules mattered anymore. She buried her face against the curve of his shoulder, and her fingers dug into his sides, hungry and desperate as she pulled him to her.
If she could only get close enough, maybe, somehow, she could disappear into him. And then no matter who came looking, they would never find her again.
THIRTY-THREE
Leo fell asleep after, but Vivian stayed awake, watching the dawn light creep through her window and across the floor and listening to the world outside her walls slowly coming to life. It was warm under the quilt, and she could hear the quiet huff of his breath. But Leo had pulled away in his sleep.
It didn’t hurt as much as she thought it would. There were times for holding on tightly to whatever you could, but they both knew this wasn’t one of them. Vivian slipped out of the bed without waking him and dressed silently. She had perfected the skill back when she and Florence still lived together and she would sneak out, spangles on and shoes in hand, to meet Bea for a night of dancing. Her clothing was more practical this time, skirt and sweater and sensible shoes. But she still carried them, moving across the floor on silent, stockinged feet. She wanted Leo to sleep for as long as he could. It was easier that way.
She hesitated, then tucked enough money into his jacket pocket to pay him back for the cab ride last night. She didn’t want things to endwith her owing him anything. She left her key on the table next to his hat. He’d know to take it to Danny and Florence.
She paused just by the door, looking around the room one last time. That was when she noticed the quiet change in Leo’s breathing, the tense stillness of his shoulders. He was awake and pretending not to be, listening to her go.
Neither of them said anything. It was easier that way, too.
There was nothing left to do except take a deep breath and start walking.
“Wait here.”
The station was busy, even in the morning. Vivian could hear the rowdy clamoring of the drunks who had been arrested the night before, the grumpy bustle of the officers going about their work. The sergeant held a door open, gesturing impatiently for her to go in.
The room was a little box, with a table and chairs and nothing else. Just looking at it made her skin crawl, made her want to run in the opposite direction. She had fast feet. Maybe she could make it out the front door before they caught her.
Vivian hauled in a breath and walked through the door. Very carefully, she took a seat. The door clicked shut behind her. She didn’t think of anything, not Florence or Leo or the memory of Honor with her forehead pressed against her mother’s. She couldn’t let herself.
She didn’t know how long she waited before the door opened.
“Miss Kelly.”
