“Are you okay?” Luke asks, striding towards me. “What the hell was that about?”
“I have no fucking idea,” I say, staring after the way she left. “Should I follow her?”
“I don’t think she wanted to be followed,” Luke frowns. “Who is she?”
“I have no idea. She came in and asked for help. I assumed she meant with her hair,” I shake my head, rubbing a hand over my face. “She looked so sad. I told her this is a safe place to speak, but she just freaked out. Did you see the bruises? Her face was a mess. What if someone is hurting her?”
I’m rambling, I know I am. But I have been that girl. The one with the busted-up face, hidingit from the world, and just needing one person to speak to. I really should go after her.
“If she wanted to speak, she would have. She’ll speak to someone in her own time. I’ve always found that you can’t add pressure, and if she wants help, she knows now that she has a place to turn to,” he smiles, his hand coming up to my face.
“You know what was strange? She knew me. She said I’m nicer and prettier than she expected.”
“Maybe she is a friend of one of your clients?” he asks.
“Yeah, maybe,” I trail off. “I don’t know, something isn’t sitting right with me.”
“If she wants to, she’ll come back.”
Then I will make a point of staying a little later each day, just in case.
