I froze.
"What? How—how do you know, Jan?"
"Please don't be mad. You know you can trust me, right?"
"Yes," I whispered, and I did. For all her sharp edges, I knew she was genuine, that her loyalty was real.
"I... I represent Ryder in a case," she admitted, voice low. "I can't tell you about it yet, but he told me everything."
"You're his lawyer?" My stomach twisted.
"Yes," she said simply. "But more than that, I'm your friend, and as your friend, I need you to listen: take the time you need. You'll understand everything when the time is right. I can't share the details yet, but I didn't come here for that. I came for something else."
"What?"
She slipped a card into my hand, the paper trembling slightly between her fingers. On it was an address and a number. "My driver will take us to this cabin," she said softly. "It's far from here, quiet, safe. You need space, Dec. Time away, not just from him, but from the thoughts that are tearing you apart. I'll comewith you today, just today, and then you'll stay there. You'll be in good hands, I promise."
I stared at the card, the paper trembling between my fingers. "I don't... I don't understand."
"You don't have to," she said gently. "Please. Just trust me. I'm worried about you."
"And my job?" I asked, clinging to the last scrap of normalcy I had left.
January didn't flinch. "I made a call to your principal. Explained that you're unwell and need medical leave. She agreed you can take as much time as necessary. Your classroom will be covered."
My head snapped up. "You—what? Jan, you can't just—"
"I can," she interrupted calmly. Her voice was firm but not unkind, carrying the quiet authority of someone used to making things happen. "I have the means to make this happen. Money is a powerful thing, Dec. It opens doors, smoothes obstacles, and bends people to reason. Your students will be fine with a substitute—I've arranged it. Your bills, your rent, your life outside this apartment... all taken care of. You don't need to worry about a single practical detail. What youdoneed is to leave. Not next week. Not when it's convenient.Now."
My breath hitched.
She went to my bedroom, set the clothes down on my bed and started folding them into a suitcase she must've pulled from the hall closet. "You'll pack light. Essentials only. You'll thank me when you're breathing mountain air instead of this stale apartment."
"Jan, I—" My voice broke. I didn't know whether to protest or to collapse into her determination.
She stopped, her hand resting on my shoulder, her eyes softening in a way I'd only seen once or twice before. "Dec, I'm not asking. I'm not giving you the option to keep drowning while I stand by. You're coming with me—today. End of discussion..please..Trust me."
Tears spilled before I could stop them. I nodded once, shaky, because fighting her felt impossible, because maybe, deep down, I didn't want to fight her.
January zipped the suitcase shut with finality. "Good. My driver's downstairs. Let's go."
The car hummed along the winding road, the world outside blurring into green and gold. I stared out the window, chest tight, thoughts still tangling around Ryder, the breakup, the shame, the words I hadn't dared speak to anyone. January's presence beside me was steady, quiet, but I could feel her awareness pressing in, like she could read every tremor in my body.
Finally, she spoke. "There's a couple waiting for us," she said. Her voice was calm, measured, but carried the weight of command. "A bit older. Trustworthy. They'll take care of you... and maybe you'll take care of them too, in your own way."
I turned to her, trying to read her eyes. "Okay..."
She reached over, squeezing my hand. "Promise me something, Dec. Don't share your location with anyone. Don't post anything online. Don't sign in to any social media. Not for now."
"What? Why?" Panic prickled my skin.
"Please. Just... trust me."
"Am I... in danger?" My voice was small, almost a whisper.
"Yes. Maybe. That's all I can say. Please. Keep it low. Enjoy this time with these people, with the cabin, the nature... some activities you'll find there. I'll call you, okay?"
I swallowed. My chest felt too heavy to breathe properly, too tight to protest further. "Okay," I said, voice quiet, barely a whisper.
