“What… why? I’m safe here.”
Lenore was muttering under her breath, and I heard another voice in the background. Maybe that big guy she was always with. He’d terrified me at first, but then he’d smiled and somehow I felt safe.
“I’m okay, Lenore.”
“Your friend Nate doesn’t have any brothers, Glory. When you send something like that, a lie, we take it as a plea. Are you sure you’re safe? We can be there in a few hours at most. Where are you?”
I frowned, glancing at the bedroom door, almost like I expected them to burst in any second.
“Why do you know that about him?”
“Huh?”
“I’ve never told you personal things about him.”
Lenore laughed softly. “Do you really think we don’t look into anyone we trust to be around the people we liberate? He’s with Phoenix MC, right? We know about them. They seem okay, but Nate himself doesn’t have brothers. Oh, you probably meant biker brothers, now I think about it… Marco, that’s a thing, right?”
He murmured something in the background, and I kept quiet, because the level of care from this charity was absolutely insane.
“Okay, so maybe it wasn’t a cry for help. If you ever need away from him, tell me he has sisters… or llamas… or whatever. Our support doesn’t end just because you’re out, Gloria. You could need years of therapy or support to rebuild your life. Actually,Tina, one of our team is willing to visit with you and tell you her story. She’s so happy now, and you will be too.”
That sounded impossible to me. A million miles away from reality. Right now all I could focus on was the next minute, and the one after that.
“Okay. I need to go now, but thank you. I’ll call in a week to check in.”
“Remember what I said. Day or night, Gloria. We’re here for you.”
Chapter Four
Everything I did forher felt like it was tinged with so much pain and fear. What if I did something wrong and triggered something horrible for her? What if I did something right, but it made her think about all that she’d lost because of him? I was living on a knife edge, and I had no idea what to do.
She’d always loved pasta dishes, especially my attempts at carbonara and lasagne, but what if she hated those things now too? I mean, she’d gone from loving a colourful life to being aggressively against it. I knew it was his voice I was hearing then, and not hers, but it fucking ate away at my soul, because she’d always been so lively and outspoken.
“Want me to cook?”
I spun on my heel, a frying pan in one hand, and the other losing its grip on the spatula I was holding for no fucking reason.
“Huh?”
She hadn’t initiated a single conversation so far, and the first time she did, I acted like I didn’t even fucking hear her? Nice form, dickhead.
“I mean, no. It’s all good. You relax. You know, watch TV, or something. You don’t need to do anything. I’ve got it. Fuck me, I’m rambling.”
She almost smiled. Almost. What would it take to lift her out of her sorrow and make her smile? Fuck me, I’d kill for a laugh from her.
“I don’t mind helping. You’re helping me.”
“Glory, really, it’s all good. Go chill.”
“I’m not lazy!” She snapped, slamming a delicate palm against the kitchen counter in a rare burst of anger that was a fucking relief to see. Not because I wanted her angry, but because I hated the emotionless version of her I’d picked up from that train station. I wanted her fire back, because it was her. It was her personality, her drive. She was so fucking strong before, and now it’s like a transparent version of her was all that was left. A non-corporeal shadow, something that could float away and be forgotten.
“Uh… I never said you were. I wanted to treat you, will you just let me do that? I promise my cooking has improved since the last time.” I offered her a grin, but she practically shuddered.
“I must help. I don’t get to sit on my ass just because I’m your guest. I’m a woman. My job is here, in the kitchen.”
“What the fuck?! Tell me you don’t really believe that! Tell me you get how fucking insane that is. You know what I’m hearing? I’m hearing some other fucker’s voice coming from your mouth! Glory, where’s the sass? Where’s you handing me my ass, grabbing yourself a beer, and sitting on the fucking sofa like I wanted?”
She’d been flinching from my tone, shrivelling under the force of my increasingly louder voice, and I hadn’t been able to stop myself, and when I stepped in her direction, desperate to apologise, to comfort her, she practically screamed and fell back onto the floor, with her hands in front of her.
