Holden sneered at her, shoving his gloved hands in the pocket of his coat and turning away. Olivia, to Lauren’s surprise, suppressed amused sniggers. Lauren stood up, leading Olivia and Holden away from the park.
“Uh, where are we going?” asked Holden, trudging along behind the girls.
“I need a dress for the funeral,” Lauren informed in. “My favorite boutique is down this way.”
“I have a class in half an hour,” protested Holden. “I need to get back to campus.”
Lauren spun on her heel to face him. “I’m sorry, Holden. Am I inconveniencing you? Because as I recall, you’ve been assigned to babysit me, and I would hate for Olivia to have to report your insubordination to the Morrigan. Isn’t that right, Ollie?”
Olivia seemed to be having a difficult time restraining a grin. “Sure is, Lo.”
“Fuck me,” groaned Holden, giving in.
“No thanks,” replied Lauren coldly.
Holden glared at her then made a gesture for her to lead the way. Lauren obliged and turned down a side street. It was a narrow road—for deliveries probably—and just wide enough for one car to pass. The buildings on either side prevented the sun from illuminating the sidewalk, but even so, Lauren spotted the tall man from a few minutes earlier propped up against the brick wall. As the trio approached him, Lauren fought to keep her stance casual and her shoulders relaxed.
At first, nothing happened. The man didn’t even glance up as Lauren, Olivia, and Holden passed by him. Then Lauren heard his boots move against the pavement.
In a split second, the man trapped Holden into a headlock, dragging him toward a red pickup truck parked on the curb at the end of the side street. As Holden let out a garbled yell, Lauren grabbed Olivia’s hand.
“Run!” she ordered, yanking Olivia away from the conflict, back toward the direction they had come from.
Olivia obeyed without question, sprinting alongside Lauren. When they stumbled out into the sunshine of the park, they glanced over their shoulders to see what had become of Holden, but the red pickup truck at the far end of the side street had already vanished.
I had hoped that by the time I had finished my shower and rifled through Natasha’s closet for something to wear, Wes would have come to his senses, made a U-turn, and headed back to the farmhouse. But more than three hours later, I was still sitting on the steps of the front porch, absentmindedly stroking the border collie as she lounged beside me and waiting for the red truck to return.
Natasha emerged from the house, carrying a wool blanket. She draped it around my shoulders before settling on the step next to me.
“You should come inside,” she said. “It’s freezing out here, and the last thing you need is to catch a cold. Believe me, it’s one thing to be emotionally miserable. You don’t want to be physically miserable as well.”
I drew the blanket more tightly around myself. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Nicole, I can only explain why I left you so many times.”
“No, it’s not that.” An engine rumbled, and my heart leapt, but it was only a passing hatchback on the dirt road at the end of the drive. “How are you okay with what Henry did? I mean, he hid everything from you, and you seem fine with it.”
Natasha leaned back on the palms of her hands, tilting her face up toward the sunlight, before she answered. “I’m not exactly fine,” she admitted. “But I would be a hypocrite to castigate Henry for the same crimes that I’ve committed.”
“What do you mean?”
“From the very first day that Henry and I met, I’ve lied to him,” she replied. It was conversational. There was no remorse or regret in her tone. “I believed that I was doing the right thing. So did he. Now that everything’s out in the open, it’s no wonder we were attracted to each other. Essentially, we were both struggling with keeping huge secrets. Maybe we subconsciously bonded over that.”
I rested my chin on my knees, peering down the drive.
“But I get the feeling you aren’t asking because you’re interested in mine and Henry’s relationship,” Natasha went on. “What are you thinking about?”
I took a deep breath. “I’ve just been thinking about Wes, you know? He doesn’t deserve any of this. It doesn’t have to do with him. And yet, between the two of us, he’s been hurt the most.”
“How long have you and Wes been together?”
“About nine years.”
“It shows.” Natasha nodded knowingly. She tapped my left ring finger, which was absent of adornment. “Never married?”
“He wants to,” I said, tucking my hands away into the warmth of the blanket. “But it never felt right to me.”
“Wes didn’t feel right?”
“No, no!” I replied hastily. “Just the concept of marriage, I guess. I told him that I wanted to finish my degree before we got married, but it was just an excuse. Marriage didn’t seem to hold any kind of real merit to me. After all, I’ve never witnessed a successful one.”
“I see,” said Natasha. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I don’t think Wes blames you one bit for the things that have happened to him. If anything, he hasn’t even considered it. All he cares about is keeping you safe, which is probably why he peeled out of here like a bat out of hell.”
“I suppose.”
Natasha scooted closer to me. Then, tentatively, she rested one arm across my shoulders. I remained stiff, unsure of what to do, before relaxing into it. We sat quietly for a moment longer, listening to the wind whistle through the bare branches of the trees that lined the long driveway.
“Can I ask you a question?” said Natasha, rubbing my shoulder to warm me up.
“I guess I owe you that.”
“Do you remember anything about me?”
It wasn’t a question that I had been expecting, but Natasha had delivered it in a quiet, unsteady voice, so I answered
