Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
He didn’t hug me back right away. That took time. Then his arms wrapped around me, and he held me against his chest, his arms locked around me like they were the final cage that would ever contain me.
We stood there for a long time. My clothes were soaked. My makeup was ruined. My hair was flat like I’d stood under the falling water of the shower. But the cold and the rain weren’t enough to make me turn around and walk back inside.
He was the one to pull away first, to release his hold on my body and step back slightly, his brown eyes softer than they’d ever been before. His heart was bright in the look, the goodness shining through his eyes.
There was no future for us. We were two people from two different worlds, our lives crossing unexpectedly and for a brief time. He would go back to his underworld, and I would walk to my coffee shop every morning on the way to class. The scars were permanent, so I would always have a piece of him, always remember the man who saved my life. His scars would carry my ghost as well.
We would just be ghosts to each other…to these memories.
But that was how it had to be, because we were too different.
He pulled his touch away and gave me a slight nod. “Live well. Be happy.”
Tears welled up in my eyes, and my bottom lip quivered because those words hit me with unexpected pain. My hands were still on his arms because I wasn’t ready to let go yet, to release the only person who had ever taken care of me.
He pulled his hands back and walked off.
I watched him go, standing in the rain, unable to leave until he left first.
He got into the car.
The door shut.
The engine roared.
If he looked at me, it was impossible to tell, because the windows were tinted.
Then he drove away, the tires splashing through the puddles.
When he was gone, I finally turned back to my apartment…as a free woman.
23
Survivor’s Guilt
We returned to our lives.
We finished the laundry, bought groceries, cleaned the apartment, all the things we used to dread. There was a lot of rain in Paris. It was the second week of February, so I gathered I’d been gone for over six weeks. That wasn’t long, but at the time, it had seemed like a lifetime.
My purse and wallet had been stolen, but thankfully, my passport was in the apartment, so I was able to get cash out of the bank to pay rent so I wouldn’t be evicted, as well as get food on the table.
Melanie and I didn’t talk much, as if we weren’t ready to talk.
After a few days, we sat together at the kitchen island, drinking hot cups of coffee with a plate of pastries between us. We had access to all the food we could eat, but neither one of us was ever hungry, at least, not the way we used to be.
She sat with her chin down, her knuckles propped underneath. Her eyes were downcast, her fingers in the handle of the mug. It was gray and cloudy outside, and the rain never seemed to stop. It rained every single day, a constant sprinkle.
It was better than snow.
I cleared the lump in my throat. “You can talk to me…if you want to talk about it.” Not once had we talked about what the boss did to her. It just happened…and went unacknowledged. Honestly, I didn’t want to hear about it because it was just too painful to picture the person you loved most being subjugated to that, but I would be there for her, because that was my job.
She kept her eyes down. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Well, we can always find you a therapist…if you want to do that.”
She shook her head then brought the mug to her lips for a drink. “Are you okay?”
I thought I would be blissfully happy to be free, but that high quickly wore off. Now guilt tied me down, made me think of the women who were still there, still working every single day, witnessing the death of a friend every week. “As okay as I’m going to be…”
“What about Magnus?”
I lifted my gaze and looked at her. “What about him?”
“Are you going to see him again?”
When he’d walked away, it hurt more than I thought it would. It was hard to say goodbye to someone who had experienced so much of your journey right at your side. He was the hero in my story, even if he was the villain in others. “No.”
“I saw you two together outside…when he left.”
I looked down at my coffee.
“It just seemed like…there was something there.”
Because there was. “Some people are in your life for a reason. Once that reason is fulfilled, it’s over. He saved me. He saved you. Transaction is over.”