Chapter 3
Chapter Three
CITI
I stare at him, a little dumbfounded. He slowly reaches up and slides his hand along my jaw, making me shiver.
“Not now. But someday,” he says softly before dropping his hand from my face and pulling me toward the diner, as if he didn’t just change the trajectory of my life with one sentence.
He pulls the door open and holds it for me to pass through, but he doesn’t let go of my hand. I scan the room, which is moderately busy. People turn our way to see who the newcomers are. I dip my head, letting my hair cover my face.
Stories like mine garner big news, and for weeks, my face was plastered everywhere.
Add in the fact that my twin sister is a famous author, and the media went into a frenzy that almost made me wish I’d never been found.
The world had changed while I’d been gone.
Empathy and compassion eroded under the toxic glow of social media.
People sitting at home, who wouldn’t dare say something to my face, were more than happy to hide behind their computer screens while they spat their vile accusations and questions at me.
Things like what did I do to grab a predator’s attention to what was I wearing?
Then there were the comments claiming I must have grown to like what the monster did to me, otherwise I’d have fought harder to escape or killed myself.
And that was just the tip of the iceberg.
I wasn’t human to them. I was a commodity to cash in on, trending and boosting posts that used my name in the hashtags. My brain felt like a soft-boiled egg with a broken shell, everyone scrambling to peel away the layers to get at what was beneath, and all at the expense of my sanity.
“Citi?”
I shake my head and look up at Ambros. “Sorry.”
“You okay?”
“Of course.”
“Please don’t lie to me.”
My shoulders slump. “Then don’t ask me questions you already know the answer to. Let’s sit over there where it’s quiet.” It’s my turn to lead him. I drag him over to one of the empty booths and let go of his hand so I can squeeze into the seat facing the door.
Ambros slips into the seat opposite. I feel his gaze on me, but I grab the menu and let my eyes roam over the pictures.
I can’t say I have much of an appetite. The last week or so has frayed my nerves, but I’ve worked hard to gain some much-needed weight. I don’t want to undo my hard work now.
“Do you know what you want?”
“There’s a lot to choose from.” And making choices for myself is one of the hardest things I’ve had to deal with.
“I think I’m just going to have coffee.”
I look up. “You need to eat. We both do.”
He looks like he wants to argue but relents with a nod. “I’ll go for the omelets.” I make a face, making him chuckle. “Not an omelet fan?”
“Not an egg fan. When you’ve eaten as many as I have, it kind of puts you off.”
He tilts his head in question, but when the server approaches, he turns his attention to her. “I’ll take the egg-white omelet with a side of hashbrowns and a coffee. Citi?”
“I think I’ll have oatmeal. Is it possible to get it with raisins, brown sugar, and a little cinnamon?”
“Sure, hun. As long as we have it all, I don’t see it being a problem. Drink?”
“Hot chocolate, please.”
“You got it. Food won’t be long. I’ll be right back with your drinks.”
Ambros nods before she walks away. His focus returns to me, leaving me fighting the urge to squirm. “So, asking you if you’re okay is something I should avoid doing?”
I huff out a laugh at him circling back. “It’s one of those things, you know? I’m not okay. I’m a work in progress. I’m not sure I’ll ever be truly okay or if I’m even supposed to be. But that’s a long answer to give someone. So if they ask, I say, yes.”
“Right. Sorry.”
I sigh. “I’m not trying to make things awkward, but sometimes a little white lie is easier than the cold, hard truth.
If someone asks me if I’m okay, like my sister or one of the MC brothers, I’ll always say yes.
Because if I don’t, the next question is always some variation of ‘what’s wrong?
’ That’s when it gets really freaking awkward because what’s wrong is that I was abducted, raped, tortured, neglected, and a dozen other things you don’t need me to tell you about.
But everyone knows that. So when they ask, I want to scream.
Did they just forget? If so, lucky them.
If not, then am I supposed to have gotten over it already?
Was there a grief timeline I failed to follow? ”
He reaches over and snags both my hands with his. “I get it. People ask it on a superficial level without really thinking about the truth buried underneath it.”
“Yeah, well, some of us don’t have the luxury of burying anything but bodies. Shit, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”
He grits his teeth, taking the hit I didn’t intend for him to feel. “It’s fine.” I cock my head, making him huff out a laugh. “Touche. It’s not fine, but I know you didn’t say it to hurt me. I guess this was a lot easier when we were texting each other. Makes it harder for me to fuck up.”
“You think you’re worried about fucking up? I haven’t had a friend since I was ten. And then all we had in common were Barbie and Dora the Explorer.”
He grins. “My sister loved that show.” His smile fades at the thought of Ella, but I give his hand another squeeze, keeping him here in the present with me. “How did you and my sister…”
“Meet? The day I was being discharged, she was heading to the oncology ward. We collided, and then she started babbling about books and bullets randomly. It wasn’t until she called me Nevaeh that I realized she thought I was my sister.
“I mumbled my excuses to leave when she started swaying on her feet. I grabbed her, and given how weak I was, instead of actually helping, we both ended up on our asses. Luckily, neither of us was hurt, but it did give me a chance to explain who I was to her. She was so embarrassed. And then she got a look on her face, one that told me she’d just remembered my story.
It was all over the news at that point. You’d have had to live under a rock to escape it.
I thought she’d pepper me with questions.
Instead, she took my hand, just like you always do, like she’d done it a million times before, and decided we were going to be best friends. Just like that.”
He smiles, but it’s edged in pain. “Now that sounds like my sister. She never met a stranger. I swear she drove my parents to despair when we were kids.”
“Your parents? They’re…gone?”
He nods. “Mom died when I was eleven. She had a stroke. My dad died when I was nineteen from a heart attack. Both were healthy, kept fit, ate all the right things, and never smoked a day in their lives. And yet neither of them reached fifty. And now Elle is gone too. I can’t help but think the Deveraux name is cursed somehow. ”
“I’m sorry, Ambros.”
He nods, pulling his hands back when our drinks arrive.
“Thank you,” I tell the server softly.
“No problem, doll. Food is two minutes out.” She winks and leaves as I lift my mug and take a sip. I moan in appreciation, my eyes slipping closed.
“Good?”
“Yeah. It sounds stupid, but I used to dream about hot chocolate when I was—you know. My mom used to make it the best.” I swallow, not wanting to deal with the grief of her loss just yet.
I can’t bear the weight of that on top of everything else, so I pack it away in a box for later, along with all the other fucked-up shit.
“I’m sorry about your mom, Citi.”
I blow out a shaky breath and crack the box open just a little, knowing this isn’t something I can talk about with my dad or sister.
“I feel like I lost her twice. Once when I was taken and then again when I came back, and she was gone. The problem is, she’s been gone for everyone else for a long time. They had time to deal with it all. For me, it’s still a raw wound.”
I put the mug down when my hand starts to shake.
“They’re so mad at her, Ambros, for what she did.
I think I’m supposed to be mad, too, but I’m not.
I’m just sad. Sad that Jasper broke her in the same kind of way he tried to break me.
I was gone, but Nevaeh was still there. That should have been enough.
At least that’s what I think they feel. And I get it.
I do. I held on for Star, after all. Without her, I’d be with my mom right now. ” I swipe at a tear that slips free.
“Every baby I buried took a little piece of my heart with them. The soil I covered them with was watered with my tears, and the flowers bloomed from the despair I fed them. I wanted to go with them. God, you have no idea how much. Even long after they were gone. But there was no way I was going to let Star take my place. And she would have. I wasn’t stupid.
I figured out that was why he wanted a girl so bad. I was too old for his tastes anymore.”
I snap my mouth closed when our food is placed in front of us.
I stare down at it, my hunger gone. I hear movement, but I keep my eyes on my bowl, fighting back tears.
When I feel a nudge at my side, I look up just as Ambros edges me over.
And sits beside me. I make space for him, confused for a moment before he slips my spoon into my bowl and scoops up some of the oats.
I watch as he brings it closer to his mouth and blows on it.
I swallow down a wave of emotion as he moves it over to me.
“You’ve gotta eat, angel.”
I part my lips and accept the spoon. His eyes lock on my mouth as he scoops up another spoonful.
I don’t say anything. I know I should feel stupid. I’m perfectly capable of feeding myself, but there is something oddly endearing about him taking care of me. Once I’m done, he wipes my lip with the pad of his thumb before sucking it into his mouth.
“Your turn,” I croak out.
He grins. “You gonna feed me too?”
I narrow my eyes before I drag his plate closer.
Picking up the knife and fork, I cut everything into bite-sized pieces before I stab some onto the fork and lift it to his lips.
The fire in his eyes has an unfamiliar heat pooling in my belly.
When he opens his mouth, I slip the fork inside and watch with rabid attention as he chews and swallows before his tongue swipes across his bottom lip.
“More,” he growls quietly.
The fork trembles in my hand as I scoop up more food and hold it out for him. We keep going, caught up in our own little bubble, until his food is gone.
Once I put the fork down and slide the plate away, Ambros slips his fingers under my jaw and tilts my head back, his eyes scanning my face.
“Thank you. Not just for making sure I eat, but for being here with me today, and yesterday. For spending time with my sister when she really needed a girlfriend she could let loose with. Thank you for just being you.”
“You’re welcome,” I whisper, my eyes slipping closed when he presses his lips to my forehead.
“Let’s drink our drinks and start our journey back. People will be wondering where we got to.”
“Okay. Thanks for bringing me with you.”
“I rode so long you got cold and your ass is numb. Not sure what you’re thanking me for.”
I lean forward until our faces are only inches apart and steal his earlier words.
“Then you haven’t been paying attention.”