Chapter 15
CY
Iyank her over the console and into my arms as she dissolves into gasping sobs, the pain ripping through her and tearing us both to shreds.
Has she ever talked about this? To anyone?
She said her parents sent her to a shrink, but with the raw way the story exploded out of her, she’s been carrying this around for a long, long time.
A protective instinct unlike anything I’ve ever known grabs hold of me, refusing to let go. If I could, I would shoulder this for her. Take away the pain and the guilt and the grief.
“Listen to me.” With two fingers, I lift her chin until her eyes meet mine. “If you hear nothing else I ever say, hear this. What happened to Katie was not your fault. You found her. You brought her justice.”
The sobs continue, her body trembling. The struggle to accept what I’m saying is there in her eyes. She wants to—it’s so clear to me it takes my breath away—but the guilt is holding her hostage. Keeping her from accepting it.
“I—”
“I’ll tell you that as many times as you need me to,” I whisper. “It’s not your fault. Whether you can accept it or not. You’re not to blame.”
I drop my lips to her forehead and hold her until her sobs turn to hiccups. Until the hiccups turn to shuddering breaths and eventually even out. I hold her until she pushes away from me, donning that protectiveness that now makes a whole lot more fucking sense.
I can’t imagine what my life would be like if I had to shoulder what Sydney has.
She’s swiping at her eyes when my phone vibrates in the cupholder. I ignore it, focus set on her.
“Can I ask you something else?” I ask.
“I don’t know. I should have warned you to be careful what you ask before all this.” She waves a hand, gesturing at the car.
“You think I’m sorry for giving you the opportunity to finally get all that off your chest? Never in a million years. But I am sorry that happened to her. And to you.”
Her eyes round in surprise. “You’re more than who I thought you were,” she says, like she can’t quite believe it.
I shrug. “I’m a human being, Sydney. That’s all I’ve ever been.”
“Oh.”
We’re silent through another song. She continues to put herself back together.
I continue to watch her. Fuck, this is almost as hard to watch as the moment she broke.
She’s shoving all that emotion back into the dark recesses of her mind.
Do I dare ask her what happened to the asshole who took Katie? Or will it only be more painful?
We’ve gotten this far. I might as well go for it.
“What happened to the man who took Katie? What happened at the trial?”
I hope he got what he deserved.
“He was convicted. Sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole. He was killed by another inmate. I considered sending that guy flowers to show my appreciation. Is that crazy?”
“Not crazy,” I assure her. “I want to send him flowers.”
Evil like that deserves to die. He’d already hurt too many people. His presence was only going to continue to hurt Sydney.
But his consequences weren’t enough. He got off too easy.
She smiles. It’s a small one, but it makes me feel like I’ve just won a fucking Oscar.
“I also figured out where Crowe met Katie. Found others like him and turned them over to the police. Still do.”
Fuck. Concern for her safety hits me like a Mack truck. I sink back against my seat. What if one of these men discovers who she is?
“Isn’t that dangerous?”
She lifts one shoulder. “I don’t talk to them. They don’t even know I’m there. But I find them and track them down. I send the proof the police will need to act.”
Okay, maybe it’s not as physically dangerous as I initially thought. But the emotional and mental impact of hovering within the orbit of men who think like that? Surely that takes a toll on her.
“Is that what you do for work? You work with the police department?”
How have I not asked her this question yet?
She shakes her head, her eyes darting to one side. “I’m in IT. But I’m…an independent contractor.”
There’s more to the story. More she’s not telling me. I can understand that.
After all that she’s told me tonight, she’s keeping part of herself. Maybe eventually she’ll trust me enough.
“What—”
“We should probably get back. I’m sure they’ve figured out we’re gone by now,” she says, squaring her shoulders.
I groan. Shit. She’s right.
But I don’t want to leave.
I’m not ready to go back to a world where more than just the two of us exist.
And I have no fucking clue why I feel this way.
She lowers the visor, swiping under her eyes again. Then she snaps it back into place, buckles her seat belt, and sits up tall, as if the last fifteen minutes didn’t happen.
But they did.
And I don’t know that I’ll ever be the same.
I ease back onto the road, and as the car picks up speed, it really sinks in that we’ve been gone for too long. I have no idea how we’ll explain our absence.
Maybe everyone will be asleep.
If only we were that lucky.
I pull through the gate, and we’re greeted by a large group of people, including a camera crew, the two assistant producers who are staying on site, Danny, and the other six contestants.
Fuck.
“Fuck,” Sydney murmurs, echoing my thoughts as she releases my hand.
I want to grab for it again. My hand feels…empty without hers.
But it’s for the best.
“Where have you been? You’re not supposed to leave,” Mara storms toward the driver’s side window, her voice muffled by the glass. “We’ve been calling you for over an hour. We can’t find Sydney and—”
Sydney’s door pops open, stopping Mara midstream. Whispers float on the air, the toxic kind, as the six other women send dirty looks at us. They’re mostly directed at Sydney, though I’m on the receiving end of a few glares as well.
“Sydney? Where were you?” Mara’s voice comes out as a squeak at first, her eyes narrowing as she takes in Sydney’s bloodshot and swollen eyes.
“I—”
“You know this is grounds for your removal from the show, don’t you?” Mara says.
My gut plummets. Fuck. No.
I don’t know why Sydney followed me, and I don’t even care, really. But tonight, the connection between us shifted. I’m not ready to say goodbye to her. Not yet.
“I—she was in the kitchen when I came downstairs earlier tonight. A friend had called asking for help. Since Sydney was right there, I figured he could use a couple of sets of hands,” I tell Mara, turning on the charismatic charm that works on everyone but Lois and my mom.
“She knows she’s not supposed to leave.”
“I really didn’t give her the chance to say no,” I tell her. “It involved kittens. They needed our help. Would you really send Sydney home for doing such a good deed? I’m sure every one of you would have helped had I asked, but I didn’t have the time. My friend said it was an emergency.”
Predictably, Mara’s shoulders relax. The other women look like they’re melting into a puddle in the driveway. Danny—fuck, is he crying? Maybe I’m better than I thought I was.
“Fine. I’ll let it slide. This is the only warning anyone will get, though.” Mara points at me, then turns and aims that index finger at the contestants. “It’s a good thing Brian isn’t here. I don’t think he’d be as lenient.”
Brian. The producer. Mara’s boss.
“You’re probably right. I appreciate your discretion. And your leniency,” I tell her with a wink.
“It’s been a busy night.” Mara sighs. “I’d like to talk to you about the schedule for the rest of the week if you have a few minutes,” she says to me. “Ladies, you can head back to your rooms now that Sydney has been found.”
Even in the dark, it’s obvious that Sydney’s face is flushed. But it’s not from embarrassment.
She’s holding back a comment.
Fuck, I wish she would let it loose.
Instead, she walks away, leaving me to talk to Mara. The associate producer makes it clear that nothing about tonight’s escape will air and that we shouldn’t discuss it. For all intents and purposes, it didn’t happen.
I agree. Sydney’s pain isn’t for entertainment.
From there, I spend the rest of the night—what’s left of it—placating the six contestants who didn’t sneak out with me by spending extra time with them.
Sydney goes to her room. And while she may not be physically present, she’s never far from my mind.