Chapter 3 #2
I take a deep breath and blow it out.
“Sleep well tonight, Ryder. Starting tomorrow, you’ll need it.”
I hug her and leave, comforted that she’s not going anywhere.
I head to the kitchen to see what I can snag for the drive home that will sustain me through packing. The thought makes my stomach pinch tight.
I push through the swinging door and find Tracker sitting on a stool, Kelsey opposite him. Hope is washing dishes in the sink.
I knew he’d find me. He always does.
Tracker glances at me as he takes another bite of his sandwich, completely unfazed by my glare.
I open the fridge and grab an apple, then plop on the stool beside Kelsey, needing a moment to brace myself for whatever he has to say.
“Hey, girl,” I bump her shoulder.
Kelsey’s long, dark hair hides her slight smile, but I still see it. “Hey.”
The sweet, smart fifteen-year-old has no family but a boyfriend she’s trying to convince herself she’s strong enough to escape.
Treatment and security here only work to the extent you can dig deep enough to find even a shred of value.
When you’ve been used, abused, bought, sold, drugged, neglected, manipulated, and lived through horrors no person should ever return from, finding even a morsel of respect and self-worth is like sifting dirt and hoping to find gold.
Every time you dig, more dirt falls in, covering what you’ve exposed.
The gold might be there, but the odds of finding it and keeping a firm grasp are slim to none.
“How’s school?” I ask.
“She just aced her history test.” Hope jumps in, drying her hands on a towel and swinging an arm around her.
I scrunch my nose. “You’re one of those history buffs. If I got a ‘C’ in that class, it was a miracle.”
“That’s being generous,” Tracker mumbles, keeping his eyes on the food in front of him and popping a chip in his mouth.
I ignore him, and Kelsey laughs.
“I’m thinking about tutoring.” Her voice is tentative.
“Well, I sure could’ve used you when I was trying not to fail.”
Hope squeezes her shoulder before hanging the towel to dry.
Kelsey slides off her stool. “I’ve got chores and a report due tomorrow on Moby Dick.”
Both Tracker and I groan.
“Don’t listen to them,” Hope gives us the eye. “It’s a classic, and your paper will be amazing.”
Kelsey laughs on her way out the door.
“How’s she doing?” I ask, knowing this is a precarious time.
Hope exhales. “She’s taking it day by day. Her boyfriend showed up at school. He left without too much of an issue, but that didn’t help things.”
Everyone who enters this house is free to leave at any time, but while they’re here, there are rules to keep everyone safe and cared for in ways that will set them on a better path.
Hope slides her arms around Tracker’s neck. They’ve been married for twenty-five years, and the love still shows. It’s nice to see it actually exists. She rests her chin on his shoulder, and he kisses her cheek.
Hope is beautiful and the kindest, most heartwarming, committed person you’ll ever meet.
Running this house and helping these women and children is her passion.
She loves on these residents like they’re hers, forever and always, regardless—every single one of them.
Even the difficult ones. She never gives up.
“I heard this guy released you into the wild.” One side of her mouth tips up carefully, testing the waters and ready to referee.
“Man, word travels fast around here.” I have no doubt she was Track’s sounding board.
“It’d better,” she smiles, taking the stool next to him. “If one of my girls is moving in with a man, I should be the first to know about it.”
“I’m not moving in with anyone. This. Is. An. AS-SIGN-MENT.” I make sure to enunciate the final word.
One of Hope’s brown eyebrows arches upward. “Yeah, well, Jos thinks she’s moving into your room in the townhouse.”
“She knows?” I ask, unsurprised that my youngest sister has been informed. This only means they all know, and I’ll never hear the end of it.
I have four sisters, but not in the traditional sense. Hope and Tracker took us in, and sometimes sisterhood forms simply through understanding each other better than anyone else.
Hope shrugs, moving back to the sink. “She’s still at home. She gets all the goods. It’s the only perk she has.”
“What did you see today? Were they telling us everything?” Track pushes his plate away, jumping into why he’s really here.
I slump in my stool. “If not, their tells are practiced and precise.”
He crosses his arms, completely unaffected by my sharp tone. “I know you’re pissed,” he starts. “But you’re ready for this. It’s your final training.”
“Final training? Is this some kind of test? Get me in there. See how long I’ll last. You know I’ll die trying.”
He stabs me with a glare, his entire body stiffening. “No.”
“Why are you doing this? Why now? You know what living with him means for me.” I try to keep my tone even, but I’m doing a shit job.
He runs a hand over his scruff. “I want this for you.” His voice is uncharacteristically soft.
“I want you to know that you can. That you don’t have to be afraid.
Ryder. . . ” He pauses, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table.
“You are the strongest, bravest, most fearless person I know.”
I force myself to breathe, or I won’t make it through this conversation.
“You quit running and hiding a long time ago. This is it. This is the final piece that will set you free. Free to have the life I’ve always wanted for you and you’ve earned.”
I swallow hard, my nails biting into my palms. “Me living with this guy and tracking down these threats will do that?” I don’t make it a habit to question this man, but in this case, I’m willing to risk it.
His eyes meet mine across the small table. They’re as gentle as I’ve ever seen them, and they stab me right in the center of my chest. “You would’ve never done this on your own. Given yourself a chance to see. . . ”
I breathe. “So, you’re forcing me, no matter the cost?”
He shakes his head. “No. This is your job. If you’re really that against it, that afraid, you can quit.”
I stare at him long and hard. He knows I won’t quit. This is my life. He’s set this before me and known all along I’ll do it. Backing down is never an option. He trained me.
The man is tough as nails, but he’s all mush when it comes to one of us girls. Right now, he thinks he’s doing something for me. Maybe he is, but it doesn’t really matter. I’m assigned to Cole Matthews, and until I bring down whoever is threatening him, I’ll be his protection.
I push off my stool. “I need to get going. I have to pack.”
Track nods, the corner of his lips twitching. “I meant what I said today. You are the best.”
“Well, hopefully, I don’t get us fired,” I say as Hope slides her arms around Track’s neck from behind.
“Sunday dinners won’t be the same.” Hope’s tone saddens. “Lyla’s already gone half the time. Jamie and Vanessa are getting busier, and now you.” Her lower lip pushes out slightly. “You could bring him sometime.”
“Yes. That would be wonderful,” Track grumbles. “I want a phone call every day. An update on the case, and I want to hear your voice.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And lay off that shoulder.” He holds my gaze. “You have to promise me you won’t do anything crazy. If you have a lead, I wanna know about it.”
“Yep. Got it.” I salute.
“Ryder.” His voice shifts to a low growl, and Hope snickers beside him.
These two. They’re the only kind of parents I will ever know, and I couldn’t have dreamed up better ones.
I try to hide my sarcastic smile, but it’s no use. “Fine. I promise.”
“You pull another stunt like the last one, where I have to carry your ass out. . . ” He doesn’t finish, his voice turning soft and betraying him.
I don’t need to remind him that it’s the risk of what we do. He knows, but I couldn’t bear it if the roles were reversed.
“I’ll be smart.” I smile, but it takes effort. “Don’t forget, I learned from the very best.”
He stands, clearly over this conversation. Thank goodness, so am I.
“I know you hate hugs, but you have to hug me this time.” He holds out his arms, and I step into them—strong and safe, the rare place I feel that way.
“Uh, you have to hug me like always.” Hope spreads her arms, and I squeeze her tightly.
I grab my backpack, tossing the apple in the air and catching it. “You stay out of trouble, too, old man.”
“Old man, my ass. Good luck telling the girls. I’m glad I’m not invited.” This man can handle a platoon, but we girls will take pleasure in driving him to the loony bin.
“Don’t worry, your phone will be blowing up all night.”
“I’ll be sure to turn that shit off.”
I laugh.
“Ryder.” He stops me, his hand moving to that place over his chest where some people feel things. “I know what this is costing. I’m really proud of you.”
Oh, man.
I can’t stick around with that. I nod, then push through the door to go tell my girls I’m leaving for a while. That will take the rest of the day.