Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Georgie
“Your keys.”
Joaquin tosses a fresh new set to the new housemate and gives her a rundown of the house rules. She is tall, blonde, leggy, and has curves that won’t quit.
I’m not comparing myself to her; I’m just making an observation. I snuggle deeper into the blanket next to Jefferson as we sit together on the hideous office sofa. I bury my face in his shoulder, barely listening to Joaquin give the new renter the rundown of the house rules.
“Thanks,” she says. “You don’t happen to have a first aid kit here, do you? I gotta change a bandage.”
That voice is familiar.
I look up.
The leggy blonde comes into focus. She has the eyes of a Smith and the swagger of a Barker.
I cannot process this. Not now.
“Do I have a bandage?” Joaquin laughs, pushing back from the desk and going to a footlocker in the corner. He kicks the lid open with one oversized boot.
“You rob a hospital or something?” the woman jokes.
Jefferson notices me tensing up.
“What is it, Georgie?”
The blonde’s whole body snaps to attention. I wait for her to speak first when she sees my face. But she turns away from me, and instead focuses on Joaquin, who roots through the state’s largest first-aid kit.
I remain in silence and shock as the woman lets Joaquin help her replace a bandage on her lower right abdomen.
I haven’t had time to heal and process everything that has happened to me in the last month.
And on top of that, the last two days have held enough surprises to last me a year. I ran away a second time from the cult. I finally told my dad exactly how I felt about everything. I watched Orlyn Moffatt get apprehended. I got freaking married. I shot and killed my uncle. I’ve been interviewed by the state police and told not to leave the state, pending their investigation of the shooting. Oh, and my husband was apprehended on phony kidnapping charges and almost plunged off a cliff to his death in a car crash. And Elder Mark agreed to drop out of the sheriff’s race in exchange for Jefferson agreeing not to file charges against him for false arrest and arranging Nevyn’s intrusion with intent to harm me. Mark and Jefferson called a temporary truce, and I don’t know how I feel about that.
And the hits just keep on coming.
All patched up and covered up, the blonde woman thanks Joaquin for his help. Her tone is different. More professional and confident than I remember. But it’s definitely her.
“Wynella?”
She sighs, and finally meets my gaze. “Yep.”
She looks way more comfortable in the tight jeans, boots, and low-cut top than she ever looked in her Discipline Center uniform.
“Care to explain yourself?”
“No,” she answers flatly.
“You two know each other?” Joaquin and Jefferson say this practically in sync.
Everyone’s eyes are on me.
“Wynella?” Joaquin interjects. “That’s not the name I have on the paperwork.”
Something fishy is going on here.
“What are you doing here? What’s going on?”
“I’m just in town to run some errands,” she says.
I’m not buying it. “Bullshit. Why are you dressed like that? Where’s your chaperone? Why in the hell is Joaquin giving you keys?”
“I have special privileges. The less you know about it, the better,” she says.
“Again, bullshit.”
She shifts her eyes around the room, then turns to Joaquin. “I gotta go rest up.”
She’s about to head down the hallway and out of my sight, but I have had it with people thinking I can’t handle the truth.
“Why did you leave the cell door open?”
She pauses and then curses softly under her breath. Finally, she admits, “Because it didn’t matter. Your dad was on his way to pick you up.”
Okay. Now we’re getting somewhere. “Why didn’t you tell anyone I stabbed you?”
Jefferson flinches. “Excuse me?”
“Little Georgie stabbed you? No way!” Joaquin exclaims. “Wait, don’t say anything else yet, I’m going to pop some popcorn.”
I hear the back door open and close. Wynella darts out the front door.
“Wait!”
The moment is lost. Evidently, she doesn’t want to be seen by too many people. And I intend to find out why not.
Footsteps and shouting can be heard in the kitchen. The clamor gets closer, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
“Where is she? Where’s Georgie?”
I recognize that voice and stand up. The next moment, this shabby office is overcrowded with my friends.
Before I know what’s happening, I’m being attack-hugged by Olivia, Louisa, and Goldie.
I fall to pieces. I’m so happy and so relieved to see familiar faces that my knees give out.
I let these brave, extraordinary, fierce women hold me up.
Amid the hugging, crying, and shouting, I catch Jefferson watching me from where he sits, looking like the cat who ate the canary. I know he called them. He’s the reason they’re here.
I mouth a “thank you,” and he nods.
Joaquin is barking something about this being a place of business, but no one is listening.