Chapter 29
SAVANNAH
Ruckus reverberates in the distance. I can’t make sense of the noises, and they sound too far away. It’s as if my ears are stuffed with cotton. I barely register the commotion in my current state.
Numb.
“Savannah?”
“Where did she go?”
“It’s not like she can climb down the side of the building.”
A moment later, a stream of light falls across the hollow bubble I’ve created. I squeeze my eyes shut.
“In here.” Soft footsteps cross the carpet to me. “Dream Girl, why are you in the closet?”
I don’t want to go back. My heart can’t take it.
More footsteps, then a hand sweeps my hair back, revealing my tear-stained cheeks. “Let me see those beautiful brown eyes, Trouble.”
My skin tingles where he touched me, prompting my body to allow feeling back in.
I can’t.
“We’re here, Heartbreaker. We’re behind you one hundred percent.” Another hand wipes the moisture from my face.
My eyes take a moment to focus. Slowly, the details of their faces fill in. They’re all on the floor with me, touching me in one way or another.
Rory runs his fingers through my hair repeatedly in a soothing gesture. Luke holds my hand in both of his in a way that grounds me.
Hunter shifts toward me. “Move over.”
I don’t realize that he’s talking to me, but it seems everyone else does. Rory and Luke help Hunter scoot me forward, creating space behind me—space big enough for one bossy, kind man. Hunter lies down and maneuvers me until I’m engulfed in his strong embrace.
Their attentive actions are too much.
“I can’t keep doing this,” I finally get out in a whisper.
Rory’s eyes soften. “Doing what?”
“Pretending,” I answer.
Luke lightly clutches my hand. “What are you pretending?”
“That I’m not just like him.” I choke on a sob, and more tears fall.
“You’re not.” The vibration of Hunter’s voice beats against my back.
“Yes, I am. I kill people.”
I’ve never said those words out loud. It’s almost freeing to admit it, but the overwhelming fear of rejection pushes me back down, the sense of freedom only lasts for a moment.
“You’re different,” Luke argues.
“How?” I push back.
Luke injects sincerity into his reply. “He killed innocent women. People like Tobin aren’t innocent.”
I wince at the mention of the name of the last man I killed. Apparently, I had an audience for it.
A thought rooted in doubt nudges at me. “Why didn’t you call the police and turn me in that night?”
“You know why,” Hunter responds.
I shake my head. “No, I don’t.”
Rory runs his knuckles down the side of my face. “Because you matter. Because you don’t deserve a life in prison. Because we’re the last people who would judge you for something like this.”
How can they accept the fact that I murder people to decompress? No one can be that understanding…can they?
I scoff. “You do realize this isn’t a hobby like knitting or swimming, right?”
“Yes, we’re all well aware that killing pedophiles is different from knitting and swimming,” Rory returns with the same amount of sass and sarcasm I just dished out.
Despite my resistance, my lips curve the smallest amount. It’s impossible to resist Rory.
Rory continues, “I think you deserve a medal.”
His humor pulls a small laugh from my throat.
“Honestly, we’ve seen worse,” Luke adds.
What does that mean?
Before I can ask, Hunter reaches behind him with one hand, then holds up the bag containing the gold necklace and earrings. “We really need you to tell us about these.”
Seeing them up close, I marvel at how something so small holds so much meaning. They’re not just gold daisies. They’re reminders of the worst parts about being raised by John.
Sitting up, I sigh and answer with the minimum. “The necklace was on my doorstep about a week and a half ago, and a few days later, the earrings showed up.”
Hunter sits up next to me. “Did you tell anyone about them?”
My eyes are glued to my lap. “No.”
“Why not?” Luke questions.
My head snaps up to look at him with raised brows. “Because if I have the police snooping around, then I’m more likely to end up in prison.”
Rory snaps his fingers. “That’s a valid point.”
“Who is ‘Your Shepherd’?” Hunter continues the interrogation.
“I don’t know.” I shake my head.
“Are you sure?” Hunter pushes.
Groaning in frustration, I run a hand through my hair. “I really don’t know. I thought it might be my father, but it’s impossible. He shouldn’t be able to send me jewelry from prison. Besides, he never referred to himself as a shepherd.” My eyes venture back to the gold jewelry.
“But there’s something about these that makes you uncomfortable,” Luke deduces.
“That’s one way to describe it,” I admit vaguely.
“Spell it out for us,” Hunter prompts.
I point to the little gold flowers. “The daisies. That’s what John liked to call me. His Daisy.”
“That’s not weird at all,” Rory comments sarcastically.
Hunter sets the bag in the middle of our little closet huddle. “So, there’s a chance these could be from him.”
Luke rubs the back of his neck. “Unless there are other people who knew about the nickname.”
Breathing out a sharp breath, I reply, “I don’t exactly have a list. The nickname wasn’t a secret.”
“What about the notes?” Rory opens the bag, pulling out the little pieces of paper.
Shrugging, I gesture to the notes. “What about them?”
Rory points at them, but his focus is on me. “What do they mean?”
Nausea roils in my gut. A chill creeps up my back, causing every muscle in my body to tighten.
“John put a heavy emphasis on remaining…pure until marriage, especially when I became a woman. He’d quote scripture, send me to chastity camps in the summer, if I wore shorts or a skirt, he’d measure to make sure the hem was only three inches from my knee, and he’d have me read books about being a good homemaker.
I practically had The Good Wife Guide memorized. ”
Rory rears his head back. “The hell?”
Luke looks like he’s ready to kill some people. “That’s fucked up.”
The muscles along Hunter’s jaw tense, his voice sounding gritty. “You can’t be serious?”
I don’t have an answer for them. It’s the truth.
That was my life. I know it’s despicable, but at the time, I thought John was looking out for me.
When he was taken away, it was like finally being able to see.
I realized that no decent father wants their daughter to marry a controlling, entitled man, going from one warden to the next.
A loving father doesn’t tell her to live her life cowering to an angry partner and catering to their every want and need.
A good father teaches his daughter to be strong, to think for herself, and to fix things on her own.
“Thank you for trusting us,” Hunter’s tone is gentle as he wraps an arm across my shoulders and pulls me close.
I breathe in the comfort he offers me, allowing it to strengthen my soul and remind me that I don’t have to live the life that John tried to force on me.
“Let’s get you off the floor, Dream Girl.” Rory stands, offering me a hand.
Placing my hand in his, he lifts me to my feet, then guides me out of the closet and into the bathroom. He turns the handle in the shower, and steam slowly builds, climbing up the glass shower walls.
Placing his lips on my forehead, Rory whispers, “We’ll let you wash up.” Then he walks out, leaving the bathroom door cracked.
Slipping out of my clothes, I let them drop to the tiled floor. As I step under the hot water, I relax my shoulders and let the heat loosen my muscles. A small smile tugs at the corners of my lips.
I’ve chosen my own life.
Washing myself quickly, I rinse off and shut off the water. As I wrap a towel around myself, I find a small stack of clothing waiting for me on the counter. When I dig through the pile, I find a green silk sleep top, matching shorts, and panties. I dress and make my way out of the bathroom.
I don’t see Rory or Luke, but Hunter sits on the edge of my bed, wearing a pair of boxers and nothing else, the comforter pulled back. He’s hunched forward, and his elbows rest on his knees. I can’t help but admire the sharp lines of his body, the rigid muscles that make up his form.
When he finally looks up, our eyes meet. A sense of security warms my body as he reaches his hand out to me. I take it, and he pulls me close, positioning me to stand between his legs. He peers up at me, his eyes scanning every inch of my face.
“I’m okay,” I assure him.
Hunter nods and rises to his feet. He lifts me into his arms and spins, laying me down in the middle of the bed. He takes up the space next to me and turns me on my side so my back rests against his chest.
My eyes are closed for just a few seconds when I hear Rory say, “I haven’t had a sleepover since I was a kid.”
With an expression of disbelief, my mouth hangs open as I get an eyeful of two bare chests. “Are you really about to squish together on my bed?”
Rory shrugs, lifting the covers and waving his hands at the small amount of space. “Why not?”
A rush of air escapes my lungs in doubt. “There’s no room.”
“Sure there is—” Luke starts.
“Just get in the damn bed. I’m tired,” Hunter snaps.
“You don’t have to be grouchy about it.” Rory frowns comically and gestures for Luke to get into bed first, then Rory settles in second.
Luke moves all the way forward, leaving little space between our bodies. He clasps my hands in his. “We’re here for you, Trouble. You’re not alone anymore.”