glance as she strode for the side door. “Watch yourself, Jim. She’ll cry rape and you’ll end up in jail too.”
Her words slapped my face and Jimmy tensed up beside me. I could feel the anger radiating off of him.
“Where did that come from?” I asked after the door had closed behind her.
“She and Brett were friends,” he said.
“I can see that now,” I said, shivering despite the morning warmth. “She seems like the kind of person who’d send love letters to a serial killer.”
Jimmy’s hard expression didn’t soften as our gazes locked, everything we’d done hanging between us.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. Kind of shocking to hear but just words.” I glanced up at him. “Wait. Do you mean us?”
He nodded.
“I regret nothing.” He didn’t return my teasing smile. “You do?”
“I’m late for my shift,” he said and added, “My last shift.”
“No, I won’t let them fire you.”
“I shouldn’t have kissed you here.”
He trudged to the side door and I gave the road out of Blue Ridge a last, longing look and then followed. I could scale the fence too, but how far could I go without the Hazarin? How many miles to New York would I make before I began to slip back into oblivion?
And would Jimmy follow me? Or try to stop me?
Inside, I gripped his arm, my fingers digging into the leather. “What happens now?” I asked. “Are you giving up on me?”
He moved in, stood as close to me as he could without touching me. “Never, Thea. N-N-Never. I swear it.”
“Jim?” Alonzo stood at the end of the hallway, his expression grim and hard but his tone heavy with regret. “Can I see you a minute?”
Jimmy’s final parting glance was full of such longing, my heart nearly broke. He walked away from me, down the hall, and around the corner.
It felt like goodbye.
Because it was.
Later, in the rec room, I stood over a fresh canvas but didn’t touch the paint. Rita came in, her face pitying and I knew the answer before I asked, “Where’s Jimmy?”
How long has it been? Where are Mom and Dad? Where’s Jimmy?
The script had been rewritten, but the details were the same—me, stuck here, waiting for other people to tell me how my life was going to be.
Rita started to answer but Anna, walking in with Alonzo behind her, beat her to it.
“Jim has been let go,” Anna said.
My heart felt as if it had been stabbed, even if I knew it was coming. “Jules tattled on us?”
Alonzo bowed his head as if in mourning. “It is against the facility’s regulations for an employee to have inappropriate relations with a resident. Jim knew that and he left without incident.”
He sailed away and left me. Left me without a fight.
I glared at them all. “And what if the relations were completely consensual?”
“That’s not possible,” Anna said. “Not while you’re here, Miss Hughes.”
“You all were so happy to see me wake up,” I said. “I don’t know why you bothered.”
Rita looked pained. “Please, Thea. Try to understand—”
“My sister is behind this, isn’t she?”
“No,” Anna said. “This is policy.”
I lifted my head, unwilling to let them see me broken or beaten. “I’m sure Delia will come today to check on me,” I said stiffly. “I’ll be in my room.”
I went upstairs and lay on my bed, sucking deep breaths. Jimmy’s kiss lingered all over my lips, my skin, and my heart. And now they expected me to live another few weeks in the sanitarium without him.
Delia came to my door an hour later. I threw it open on the third knock.
“You have no right to do this,” I told Delia.
“I suspected you’d throw a tantrum.”
“A what…?” I clenched my teeth to bite back a scream.
“I warned him,” she said. “And he still couldn’t keep his hands off you.”
“You don’t get to say whose hands I want on me.”
“Neither do you.” Her expression was smug. “It’s against sanitarium policy.”
“Fuck the policy and fuck you, Delia!”
She stared as if I’d slapped her.
“You can’t dictate my life,” I said. “You want him fired because he kissed me? I wanted it, Delia. I want him. I want to live. Goddamn, do I need to write it down? More word chains? More paintings? I’m standing right in front of you and telling you what I want, and you can’t hear me.”
“Are you done?” Delia asked.
I blinked. “Am I… done? No. I’m not done. I haven’t even started yet. I’m leaving.” I went to my dresser, yanked out the