My fingers moved to the raised flesh near my hip bone. Scars riddled my body, but most of them were thin. Razor-sharp slashes where the man’s blade had sliced into me.
The mark on my hip was different. The brand made it so I had no prayer of forgetting. Somehow, even after breaking free, I was still his.
My vision went blurry, and I blinked to clear it. My fingernails had pressed so hard into my palms that I’d drawn blood.
I hurried into the bathroom, turning the water as cold as it would go. I soaped my palms, not caring about the sting, and then submerged them in the freezing liquid. The cold took away the worst of the sting, and I washed and washed until no evidence remained except tiny half-moons dotting my skin.
If Emerson could see my hands, he’d say I was pushing myself too far. Maybe I was. But if I didn’t, then I had no prayer of finally living a somewhat normal life.
My throat tightened as I tried to keep the welling emotions at bay. I wanted normal. I wanted friends. To be able to wander down the street without bracing for an attack. I wanted to feel safe being out past dark. To go to dinner parties or out dancing. I wanted to be free.
“What’s the next step?” I whispered.
To get in my car and drive to my new beginning.
I walked through the motel room one last time, checking under the bed and in the closet. I’d already checked every nook and cranny at least four times, but I didn’t want to risk needing to come back.
When I saw no stray belongings left behind, I slipped on my coat and slung my purse over my shoulder. Then, opening the door, I wheeled my suitcase outside.
As I stepped into the cold air, I came up short. A man nearly crashed into me. He had a scruffy beard and a brown gaze that jumped around from thing to thing until it zeroed in on me.
“Excuse me,” I mumbled, hurrying to my car.
He didn’t say a word, just stared at me hard as I walked away, almost as if he were trying to place my face.
He probably was. People didn’t recognize me often anymore. But it still happened occasionally.
There’d been countless newscasts, severalDatelinespecials, and even a Lifetime movie about my story. Only it wasn’t the real one. The police and FBI had kept some facts from the media. Things that would haunt me forever. But the little they had gleaned felt like being victimized all over again.
I shoved my suitcase into the trunk and hurried to the driver’s door. Slipping inside, I pressed the lock button.
The man was still standing there. Staring.
My hand shook as I struggled to get my key into the ignition. On the fifth try, I finally got it. Starting the car, I backed out of my parking spot.
I didn’t look back at the man, didn’t want to know if he was still staring with that perverse sense of curiosity. I kept my gaze locked straight ahead as I turned onto Main Street.
I let glimpses of the frozen lake soothe me as I drove through downtown. There were countless restaurants I wanted to try, and I promised myself then and there that I’d go to each and every one and report back to Adrian about the food. I’d make a list of the ones I wanted to take him to when he and my brother came to visit.
The drive to Lawson’s went by in a flash. I parked in front of the guest cabin, wondering how my car would fare getting up his steep drive in the snow. I rarely drove in Chicago, and definitely not when it was snowing. Now, I’d have the most precious cargo: Lawson’s children.
I worried my bottom lip. I’d practice the moment it snowed—over and over until I got it down.
Turning off my car, I slid out. I left my belongings inside and headed for the main house. I wasn’t due to start until tomorrow, but Lawson wanted me to have some time to get settled and meet Charlie, Drew, and Luke while he was around.
A fluttery feeling took root in my chest. Not the one I used to get around a childhood crush, but one comprised of all the terrifying what-ifs. What if the boys hated me? What if one of them got really sick while I was taking care of them? What if someone took one of them?
I squeezed my lids together and balled my fists. When I opened my eyes, I focused on the space around me.What do you see?
“Gravel. Bike. Steps. Trees. House.”
I let air fill my lungs, then exhaled.What can you touch?
“Jeans. Jacket. Sweater. Zipper.”
Another breath.What do you smell?
“Pine. Smoke. Snow.”
