Chapter 37
PAIGE
“ H ey, Annie has the talking wand,” I said over the clamor of three women speaking in group. “We all agreed to respect that.”
They quieted, but Theresa looked at me sullenly. “How the hell are we supposed to be healing together if we don’t all get to talk?”
“You’ll get your chance. We still have”—I glanced at the clock in the corner—“two minutes left.”
Theresa huffed a sigh and sank lower in her seat.
Annie paled. “I don’t have to?—”
Someone knocked on the door. I turned and found Lily easing it open.
“I know you’re wrapping up here, but we’ve got a… situation in the common room.”
“I’m done!” Annie dropped the talking wand, a ribbon-wrapped stick Lauren and I had made when there stopped being enough time in the hour-long groups for the sheer number of women we had to just speak freely, into the middle of the circle and shot to her feet. “Paige can go. No problem.”
Theresa scoffed. Lily met my gaze with an intensity that promised she really, really needed me in the common room. With a sigh, I stood.
“I guess that’s time for today, guys. We’ll reconvene next Wednesday to?—”
The grumbling began before my sentence ended.
I winced, but there was nothing to do other than follow Lily out of the room.
The problems were mounting, and we couldn’t ignore them anymore.
The huge, old Victorian had seemed perfect last year, but as word spread about our shelter, we were packed to capacity more often than not.
We’d had to install bunkbeds in all the rooms. Lauren had another therapist—or two?
I’d lost track—already picked out to join us, but we didn’t have the space to offer them an office anymore.
We hadn’t gotten as many women from trafficking schemes of late, at least. Very few traffickers bothered to try operating in Philly anymore, now that Tom had “taken over” the Mansion.
We’d be talking about what he was going to do in September—hold an auction and round up anyone who came?
Pretend to hold an exclusive auction?—but even as June marched forward, we hadn’t settled on anything yet.
My mind felt like it was being torn in a thousand directions.
On the upside, I hadn’t thought about Zahur’s blood spilling over my hands in weeks.
Lily led me into the common room where two of our longer-staying women, Holly and Jen, glared at each other over the puzzle table in the middle.
I stepped up to them. “What seems to be the problem?”
“Holly hasn’t even touched this stupid puzzle in three days,” Jen said. “I think it’s too hard, but she won’t just admit that, clean it up, and start this one.” She gestured to a simpler, floral puzzle.
“I absolutely have touched it!” Holly protested. “It’s not my fault Jen’s not paying attention.”
“Not paying—Dr. Lauren says I have hypervigilance!” Jen said, her voice creeping dangerously close to yelling. “There’s literally nothing I don’t notice.”
“Okay!” I said before Holly could reply. “Jen, why don’t you take one of the roll-up puzzle mats and set up—” I glanced at Lily, hoping she knew where a free table was in this place.
“In the dining room,” she said.
Jen sighed, but grabbed the boxes of pieces and headed off for a mat.
Holly smiled at me. “Thanks.”
I nodded and pulled Lily out of the room. “The dining table?”
She shrugged. “Everything else is covered. Seriously, everything.”
I ran a hand through my hair. “We’re losing it, aren’t we?”
“No.” She put a hand on my arm. “We’re still providing the best care we can. It’s just… a little cramped.”
Lauren squeezed by us and smiled tiredly. “Did I hear you say cramped?”
I grimaced. “Unfortunately. Do you have any ideas?”
She looked around. “I hate to say it, but I think we need another facility.”
I leaned back against the wall, resting for the first time all day. Things had been hectic for weeks. “Maybe. But it’s not like that’s going to happen overnight. I don’t even know if Tom has the liquid funds to buy more property right now.”
“Coming through!” The art therapist who ran group twice a week barreled toward us with a painting in her hands, and we scattered.
I headed up the stairs a few steps, just to get out of the way, and fought down the sinking feeling Lily was wrong.
We weren’t providing the same standard of care we had been a few months ago.
The place was cramped, turf wars like the puzzle table argument broke out more and more, and I couldn’t ignore what had happened in group before this.
There weren’t enough of us—or enough rooms—to let these women actually process their trauma.
We were turning over beds faster and faster, trying to stay ahead of the fray, and I was scared it was hurting the women I’d promised to take care of.
It didn’t matter we got more from the streets and abusive households than trafficking schemes.
All of the women were my responsibility now, and the idea we weren’t doing right by them threatened to overwhelm me.
My phone rang. I glanced at the called ID. Tom.
“Hey,” I said as I picked up. “I’m kind of slammed right now, can we talk?—”
“Come outside,” he said.
I squeezed my eyes shut. A split second of fresh air wouldn’t hurt the chaos in here, and it might help me get my head on straight. I walked out the front door and into the sunshine.
Tom, leaning against his SUV, hung up the phone as I walked out. He didn’t have any bags, so this wasn’t a delivery.
“What’s up?” I asked, trying not to sound as fragile as I felt.
“We’re going for a drive,” he said.
“You might be.” I glanced over my shoulder. “I can’t get away for more than a couple of minutes. They need me in there. After two intakes, we’re back over capacity.”
He patted the hood of the vehicle. “I promise this’ll help.”
“You can’t?—”
He covered the distance between us and swept me up in a kiss. “I promise.”
I melted against him. They needed me in there, but God, I wanted to believe him. After a moment, I nodded against his lips.
“Good.” He released me and opened the door so I could climb into the car.
A few minutes later, we were driving through an upscale neighborhood part of me recognized. Huge houses. Even bigger lawns. I’d been here before.
He stopped in front of one of the houses, and everything clicked with a rush of adrenaline. That was the Mansion. Kind of. It had been painted a soft blue, and a banner I couldn’t read from the street hung over the door.
“Surprise,” he said.
I looked from the house to him. “What did you do?”