Page 135 of Threaded Lies

I have to save this place at all costs. There is healing that happens here. Healing and the creation of the invisible bonds of sisterhood and affirmation of just how strong they all are.

As I begin to pack up, some of the women I’ve seen before greet me, some thank me, and others give a slight nod before walking out.

All reactions are welcome but are not expected. This is my therapy as much as it is theirs—especially tonight.

“That was beautiful. Thank you.”

I look up to meet kind eyes and the beautiful smile of the woman before me. She’s petite in stature but athletic, with her hair pulled up in a high ponytail. The stress etched into the lines of her face does nothing to diminish her beauty.

“No need to thank me. It’s therapeutic for me too.”

“I’m new here.” She jogs her head from side to side almost as if she feels like she should be apologizing to me that she is, in fact, here. “I … I’m just getting the lay of the land, but this was a welcome surprise. Thank you again.”

I hold my hand out to her. “Rowan Rothschild. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too.” She shakes mine. “Penelope Piccadilly.”

As if my world could be rocked any more this week, those two words do just that.

“Piccadilly,” I repeat, my mind not wanting to believe what logic is telling me. What my gut instinct is reinforcing. “That’s a unique name.”

“Yeah. You should’ve heard the nicknames growing up. Like Piccadilly Circus in London. That’s what I tell people so they remember or spell it correctly.”

“Oh,” I say as I study her, as I wonder … as I know.

She narrows her eyes at me. “Is something wrong? You look a bit flushed.”

“No, I just … are you from around here or…?”

“Born and raised here in Fairmont. Not that that’s something to be proud of, but you can’t change history. Why? Can I help you with something?”

Talk about being callous. I’m here to entertain, not to probe into her life or ask stupid questions because I’m pretty sure she just might be who I think she is.

“And you’re okay? You’re—”

“I’m going to be, yes.” Her smile is bittersweet. “I got myself out of a bad situation and returned back here to be closer to friends and family, but they’re all struggling on their own, so that last thing I want to do is be a burden on them. Plus my ex…” She looks down at her twisted fingers and I feel even worse now. “I don’t want to put anyone helping me in danger. Here, there’s security. Here, they have legal advice. Here, they have people like you who treat my soul. They help without judgment until I can get back on my feet again.”

I reach out and squeeze her hand. “You’re in the right place. They’re wonderful here.”

“It’s not a place any of us want to be, but it’s needed, you know.” She shrugs.

“I do.”

“Well, then I guess I’ll see you around.”

“Yes.”

“Thanks again.” She offers one more melancholic smile and starts to walk away.

“Penelope?” I can’t help myself. I’m being selfish, and I can hate myself for it later, but I need to ask. I need to know.

“Yeah?” She turns around to look at me.

“Do you happen to know a Holden Knight? From, like, back in the day?”

Penelope’s expression says it all. Every single emotion flickers across her face. Surprise. Nostalgia. Innocence. Warmth. And with each passing one, my heart falls a little harder against my rib cage. “Holden. God, I haven’t thought of him in forever.” Her smile is the most genuine I’ve seen since we started talking. “Yeah. I knew him. In fact, we both lived not far from here.” She shakes her head. “Talk about a trip down memory lane. Do you know him?”

“I do. Yeah.”