then it would have just been sex. It would have been a hookup, not rape. And right now I wouldn’t be a victim.
I’d allowed Shelly to be an escort—no, a prostitute—all this time. Not that it was my prerogative strictly, but I could’ve made her stop. I should have found a way to make her stop.
Bailey fussed, mashing the last bit of frosting into the carpet, but I stood rooted to the spot, my eyes stinging.
“Hey,” Shelly said softly. “You didn’t ask me to do it. Don’t take that on yourself. I want this fixed as much as you do, okay? It was for me. You have to take it.”
I took the money. I had to, because she’d given up strips of her skin for it, and the very least I could do was make it worth something.
With dry eyes I washed Bailey up and brought her into the room. In that age-old way of children she seemed to recognize Shelly was hurt. She curled up in Shelly’s arms and planted a sloppy, wet kiss on her cheek. I circled the bed and crawled in from the other side.
I wanted to hold Shelly, to be the big spoon, but she wouldn’t appreciate being touched like that, especially not now with her back torn up. So I settled for facing her back on my side, like a sentry, until she settled into sleep.
Some preternatural sense told me to stay. Not to protect her from the men who hit her—as if I could—but instead from the monsters that haunted her. Or maybe just to protect her from herself.
Downstairs seemed too far, too risky, when her hand clutched the pillow so tightly. So I tucked Bailey into the bed right in the middle and watched over them. There was a peace in the dark, in the quiet, where even my thoughts could still.
I didn’t want to be like the alley cats, terrified of everything. They’d rather live wretchedly than take a chance. A leap of faith.
I slipped from the bed and called Colin. Then I tucked myself back in beside Bailey and went to sleep.
* * * *
The only fanfare for my grand dive into trust was a soft knock on Shelly’s door. I opened it and gave him a half smile, uncertain how to treat him.
“Hey,” I said softly.
“Hello,” he said, and I was struck by the formality until Shelly answered from behind me.
“Colin—nice to meet you,” she said.
Bailey burbled a greeting.
“I brought boxes,” Colin said, nodding to the parking lot.
“Boxes?” Shelly asked with a lilt of accusation.
“Yes, well.” I cleared my throat. “Colin asked me to move in with him, and…I agreed.”
I held my breath. If she hated me, if I’d hurt her, I’d never forgive myself.
Shelly smiled. Not the perfect, blinding, fake one she got paid for, but a real, lopsided grin that made her a million times prettier. “That’s great.”
I smiled back, relieved. “You’re not upset?”
She patted my hand. “About time we got out of this rat’s nest.”
Of course. She only lived in this dump because it was all I could afford. She deserved better, and that alone was enough to convince me that I was making the right choice. It felt like giving up control—my apartment, my job, my fight with Jacob—but I’d been treading water on my own for too long. If I could make this better for Bailey, for Shelly, then it was worth the risk.
“Now go on,” she said. “You pack. I’ll watch Bailey.”
Relieved, I gave her a peck on the cheek, which she accepted with the forbearance of a queen. I practically skipped down the steps with Colin at my heels. We each grabbed a handful of flattened boxes from the back of his truck before going to my apartment door.
As I put the key to the lock, the door swung open an inch. The lock itself cocked, exposing the circular hole it occupied in the door. I stood there blankly until Colin shook me.
“Go upstairs,” he said. “Now.”
It registered then—my apartment had been broken into. I ran upstairs and back into Shelly’s place, where I snatched Bailey up. She was safe. She squirmed, but I held her even tighter. Shelly questioned me, and
I’d allowed Shelly to be an escort—no, a prostitute—all this time. Not that it was my prerogative strictly, but I could’ve made her stop. I should have found a way to make her stop.
Bailey fussed, mashing the last bit of frosting into the carpet, but I stood rooted to the spot, my eyes stinging.
“Hey,” Shelly said softly. “You didn’t ask me to do it. Don’t take that on yourself. I want this fixed as much as you do, okay? It was for me. You have to take it.”
I took the money. I had to, because she’d given up strips of her skin for it, and the very least I could do was make it worth something.
With dry eyes I washed Bailey up and brought her into the room. In that age-old way of children she seemed to recognize Shelly was hurt. She curled up in Shelly’s arms and planted a sloppy, wet kiss on her cheek. I circled the bed and crawled in from the other side.
I wanted to hold Shelly, to be the big spoon, but she wouldn’t appreciate being touched like that, especially not now with her back torn up. So I settled for facing her back on my side, like a sentry, until she settled into sleep.
Some preternatural sense told me to stay. Not to protect her from the men who hit her—as if I could—but instead from the monsters that haunted her. Or maybe just to protect her from herself.
Downstairs seemed too far, too risky, when her hand clutched the pillow so tightly. So I tucked Bailey into the bed right in the middle and watched over them. There was a peace in the dark, in the quiet, where even my thoughts could still.
I didn’t want to be like the alley cats, terrified of everything. They’d rather live wretchedly than take a chance. A leap of faith.
I slipped from the bed and called Colin. Then I tucked myself back in beside Bailey and went to sleep.
* * * *
The only fanfare for my grand dive into trust was a soft knock on Shelly’s door. I opened it and gave him a half smile, uncertain how to treat him.
“Hey,” I said softly.
“Hello,” he said, and I was struck by the formality until Shelly answered from behind me.
“Colin—nice to meet you,” she said.
Bailey burbled a greeting.
“I brought boxes,” Colin said, nodding to the parking lot.
“Boxes?” Shelly asked with a lilt of accusation.
“Yes, well.” I cleared my throat. “Colin asked me to move in with him, and…I agreed.”
I held my breath. If she hated me, if I’d hurt her, I’d never forgive myself.
Shelly smiled. Not the perfect, blinding, fake one she got paid for, but a real, lopsided grin that made her a million times prettier. “That’s great.”
I smiled back, relieved. “You’re not upset?”
She patted my hand. “About time we got out of this rat’s nest.”
Of course. She only lived in this dump because it was all I could afford. She deserved better, and that alone was enough to convince me that I was making the right choice. It felt like giving up control—my apartment, my job, my fight with Jacob—but I’d been treading water on my own for too long. If I could make this better for Bailey, for Shelly, then it was worth the risk.
“Now go on,” she said. “You pack. I’ll watch Bailey.”
Relieved, I gave her a peck on the cheek, which she accepted with the forbearance of a queen. I practically skipped down the steps with Colin at my heels. We each grabbed a handful of flattened boxes from the back of his truck before going to my apartment door.
As I put the key to the lock, the door swung open an inch. The lock itself cocked, exposing the circular hole it occupied in the door. I stood there blankly until Colin shook me.
“Go upstairs,” he said. “Now.”
It registered then—my apartment had been broken into. I ran upstairs and back into Shelly’s place, where I snatched Bailey up. She was safe. She squirmed, but I held her even tighter. Shelly questioned me, and
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