“Honey, you wouldn’t be here if Bradley thought you deserved any of this, okay?” She lightly pats my shoulder with that same warm smile. “Trust me. You’re in really good hands.”
I want to believe her. After she leaves the room and gives me privacy, I want to believe everything she said. That I’m safe here.That my life has a chance to go back to normal. That everything will work out for Peter and me.
The more I mull it over, though, the more I realize things can’t go back to normal.
Because I’m different.
I’ve stolen. I’ve killed. I’ve nearly been killed.
It’s like pieces of me have fallen out and new ones are growing in place, creating someone I don’t recognize, but that doesn’t exactly feel like a bad thing.
First, Bradley and his quiet comment that sex isn’t transactional despite how it’s been a main currency in my life. Now Ivy and her gentle comments about finding myself outside of being my brother’s sister. Two things that seem so obvious to those people and yet so alien to me.
If Peter weren’t around, who would I be?
Who am I now?
Those questions bounce off each other in my mind as I lie back and contemplate how the best version of what I know could play out. Finding Peter, returning the diamonds, and returning to life.
But what life? Back to the jewelry store? A different store? A different career? What about my apartment? All this time I haven’t been working has definitely drained my income. No income means no rent.
Fuck.
What if I end up homeless?
My distress carries me into the land of sleep where my stress feeds into turbulent dreams that clash against one another. Harris and Peter are arguing, guns are going off, and there is so much fog and pain until a wave of warmth washes over, and then my dreams turn quiet and peaceful.
It lasts until the urge to pee wakes me several hours later. I’m tucked under blankets with the donut box next to the bed and a soft orange nightlight illuminating the room. Bracing one elbow on the bed, I prop up with a yawn and try to retrace through my foggy memory about how I got under the covers.
Nothing sparks.
As I replay Ivy leaving, a soft buzzing rises up from next to the donuts. My phone lies there after having been returned, so I immediately snatch it up and squint at the bright screen.
One new message.
Tapping in my code, I flick to my messages and then bolt upright.
It’s Peter and he wants to meet.
Urgently.
18
BRADLEY
[Peter] We have to meet.
[Zira] What’s going on?
[Peter] It’s urgent. Where the hell are you?
[Zira] I can’t explain right now. Things are difficult.
[Peter] Then simplify them for fuck’s sake.
[Zira] I will. As soon as I’m free, I’ll call you.
Raven tears her gaze away from the screen detailing all of Zira’s text messages and squints at me while toying with the end of her hair. “Are you sure about this?”
