their stories straight. Unfortunately, their freedom comes with a price. None of them can breathe a word about their time held captive.
“He’s out of range.” Sarah speaks through a slurp of my dregs. “Apparently, he’s taken them to a cabin away from civilization.”
“Says who?” I’ve been kept in the dark since returning to Portland—the isolation being partly my fault because I’m still pissed off at Torian for sending me home. But mainly because I want to keep Penny away from any unwanted external triggers.
“Layla. She said she spoke to her husband a few days ago and that he’s trying not to pull his hair out. According to him, all the women do is cry.”
Yeah, that sounds like my brother. Benji wasn’t born with patience. Or common sense.
“Well, if you speak to her again, can you tell her I want him to call me? Even though Penny says she’s not ready to talk, I want the information on hand in case she changes her mind.”
“Sure. But have you actually asked her why she doesn’t want to get in contact?” Sarah takes another gulp from her mug, then places it in the sink. “It could be something simple.”
“I’m not pushing her.” It’s not my place even though I have to battle my instincts to do the opposite on the daily. “She speaks to the kid occasionally. Whenever he calls my phone, she picks up. But the conversations are brief. From what I’ve overheard, she stays on the line long enough to determine he’s doing okay. Then she makes an excuse to end the chat. And she never asks to call him in return.”
“She’s distancing herself.”
“No shit.” I roll my eyes. “But from what? That woman is a fucking mystery to me. Is she distancing herself from the trauma? Or is it deeper than that? Is she trying to place space between those she loves because she still fears she’s going to lose them?”
“Have you asked her?”
No. I try not to ask much of anything. “It’s not my business.”
She raises her brows, unimpressed. “I think you’ve earned the right to ask a few questions. Does she seem scared?”
“Yes, she’s freaked, despite doing her best to act otherwise. She likes to paste on this fucking sweet smile and pretend she’s fine.” If only I couldn’t see right through it. Her lips might lie, but those eyes never do. I see the pain she harbors.
“How do you know she’s pretending? She might actually be healing. Maybe that smile is for real.”
I pull my cell from the back pocket of my jeans and scroll to the app for the outside security cameras.
“Does this look like healing to you?” I swipe to the video feed of the backyard. She’s sitting a few yards from one of the cameras, her face a picture of sorrow, her eyes dull as she stares blankly at the ground a few feet in front of her. “Look. She’s fucking dead inside. She sits like that every minute she’s not around me. Then as soon as I walk into view she switches to Mary freakin’ Poppins.”
Sarah leans into me, her attention on the screen. “Why is it that Torian’s men have a thing with breaching the privacy of women? Does she know you’re spying on her?”
“She should. I went through the house security with her when we first got here. But now she acts oblivious. I don’t know if she forgot or if she’s too numb to care. I don’t even know if she remembers who you are because the vibe I got from her a few minutes ago felt…”
I’m not sure what it felt like. It was odd. Uncomfortable.
“Felt like what?” Sarah steps back, frowning at me.
“I don’t know. It was like she thought she was intruding.”
“On us?” Her voice holds a tone of incredulity. “As in, she thought we wanted privacy? Just the two of us.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
She straightens, standing taller. “I hope you set her straight.”
“I didn’t get a chance. Someone kept ringing the fucking—”
“I come here for her, Luca. Not you.” She scowls. “And for her to even assume—for anyone to assume…” She shudders. “You’re so far from my type it isn’t funny.”
“You think I don’t know that? Jesus. You’re no dream boat yourself.”
She gives a snake of a smile. “Hunter would disagree.”
“Hunter’s judgment is questionable. The guy’s a walking, talking—”
“Choose your description wisely, my friend. I’d hate to have to hurt you.”
“You mean to say you can hurt me more than this painful conversation?” I huff out a derisive