“I lied to protect you all. Why would you want to be burdened with knowledge that could put you at risk?”
“We were at risk through our ignorance,” Darla counters. “You didn’t trustusto bear that knowledge. We could have helped.”
“Or you might have turned me in. How could I know what way you’d react?”
She falls silent, unable to argue my logic. How could I know?
None of us really knew who we could trust. Look at how easily we all suspected Nandi of being a spy. What assurance did I have that Darla and Kathy won’t tell the sheriff what they’ve found out? What assurance do I have that Anna won’t?
It’s her goddamn sister we talk about, after all.
“What do you think will happen with her?” Darla asks, voice barely audible.
I shrug. “I don’t want to get stuck on the more negative possibilities.”
She sighs. “Neither.”
I glance to the ceiling. “What about Kathy?”
Darla draws a deep breath, gaze drifting to the same crack in the plaster as mine. “Being here is good for her. I hope she manages to stay as long as she needs to feel comfortable moving on.”
“And you?”
Her focus drops to me. “I’ll go when I know she’s taken care of.” Her eyes flick toward Anna. “That’s all I know for now.”
I collapse against the back of the sofa with a sigh and melt into the cushions. Life would be so much easier if this had never happened to us, but at the same time we’d all be stuck in the fucked up places that brought us to the attention of a trafficking operation. In a twisted way, the worst month of our lives has also become the most essential.
It broke Mila from addiction.
Took Anna from roughing it on the streets.
Removed Kathy from a controlling home life.
And provided Darla the option of starting over again with a clean slate.
And me? It opened my eyes to how heavily I’d been played. How deep my duty and desire for affection can get me entrenched in unhealthy relationships.
And Nandi? I hope she contacts the group email to tell us how she is now. I hope she finds peace.
The only one we’re yet to find a semblance of closure for is Eleanor.
“Whatever happens,” I say quietly into the vacant space between us, “I swear I’ll never stop looking for Eleanor.”
“Neither,” Darla mumbles, collapsing into her chair as well. “She was probably the purest one of all of us.”
“Never doubted it.”
“Fuck, I hope she’s okay.”
I hope she’s alive.I don’t voice the thought, keeping that fear for myself.
“Freckles?”
I jolt upright to face Fang, standing hesitantly in the doorway. “Yeah?”
“Walk with me.”
FIFTY-FOUR
