She picks up on the second ring. “Lucy? What’s wrong?”
“Can… can you come pick me up?” My voice cracks. “Please. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
“Of course,” she says without hesitation. “I’m on my way. Stay right there, babe.”
I hang up and wait on the porch with my bag at my feet. Tears keep rolling down my face no matter how many times I wipe them away. I feel raw and scared and so incredibly small.
Headlights finally appear down the street. Scarlett’s SUV pulls up, and Rook gets out of the passenger side. He doesn’t say anything, just walks up, grabs my bag, and puts it in the back. Scarlett rushes over to me. The second she sees my face she pulls me into a tight hug.
“Everything’s going to be okay,” she says firmly, rubbing my back. “You’re not alone. We’ve got you.”
I cling to her and cry harder, the relief and the fear mixing together until I can barely stand. She helps me into the back seat, climbs in beside me, and holds my hand the whole way as Rook drives us away from the house.
The drive feels like it takes forever and no time at all. I’m curled up in the back seat with Scarlett’s arm around me while Rook drives in silence. My tears have slowed to quiet sniffles, but my chest still feels tight and my mind won’t stop spinning. I keepseeing Dad’s angry face and hearing that awful word he called me.
Scarlett rubs my shoulder gently. “You don’t have to talk about it right now if you don’t want to,” she says softly. “But when you’re ready, I’m here. We all are.”
I nod against her shoulder. “He said I’m throwing my life away. He called me… he called me a whore.” The word tastes bitter coming out. “Because I wouldn’t stop seeing Tiny. Because I stood up to him.”
Rook’s hands tighten on the steering wheel, but he doesn’t say anything. Scarlett’s expression hardens. “He’s wrong. So wrong. You’re not throwing anything away. You’re finally choosing yourself, and that scares him.”
I wipe my eyes with the sleeve of my hoodie. “I packed a bag so fast. I didn’t even know what I was grabbing. He wouldn’t let me take the car or my phone. I feel so stupid. I don’t have anywhere to go, no money, nothing.”
“You’ve got us,” Scarlett says firmly. “You’re staying with me tonight. Tomorrow we’ll figure out the rest. And Tiny should be back tomorrow too. He’s gonna lose his mind when he hears about this, but in the best protective way.”
The thought of Tiny makes fresh tears well up. I miss him so much it hurts. Four days felt like forever, and now this. I just want to see him, to feel his arms around me and hear him call me Buttercup like everything might actually be okay.
We pull up to Scarlett’s place a little while later. Rook carries my bag inside without a word and sets it down in the guest room. Scarlett gives me some soft pajamas and a clean towel.
“Shower if you want,” she says. “Or just crash. I’ll make some tea. Whatever you need.”
I end up taking another quick shower because I still feel dirty from the fight. When I come out, Scarlett’s waiting in the living room with two mugs of chamomile tea. Rook has already left to give us space. We sit on the couch together, and I wrap my hands around the warm mug.
“I didn’t know who else to call,” I whisper.
“I’m glad you called me,” she says. “This club… we take care of our own. And you’re one of us now, whether you’ve got a patch or not.”
I lean my head on her shoulder. The exhaustion is hitting me hard now. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. School, work, everything. I feel so lost.”
“One day at a time,” she tells me. “Tonight you’re safe. Tomorrow we’ll make a plan. And Tiny will be back. That big idiot’s been texting me every few hours asking about you even while he’s out on the run. I’ll let him know what happened as soon as I can.”
A small, watery laugh escapes me. “He has?”
“Yeah. He’s got it bad.” She smiles. “Drink your tea and try to get some sleep. You’re not alone in this anymore.”
I finish the tea and let her show me to the guest room. The bed is soft and the room smells like fresh laundry. I crawl under the covers, emotionally drained and missing Tiny more than ever. I don’t even have my phone to tell him I’m okay.
FOURTEEN
TINY
I’m goingout of my mind. It’s been hours since I heard from my Buttercup. She usually texts me goodnight, even if it’s just a simple “miss you” or a heart emoji. Tonight there’s nothing. I’ve checked my phone every ten minutes, but the screen stays dark. Service out here has been shit, but she’s always found a way before. Something’s wrong. I can feel it in my gut.
We’re holed up in a cheap motel after a long day of club business. I’m pacing the room like a caged animal while Cole watches me from one of the beds.
“You’re gonna wear a hole in the floor,” he says.
“She hasn’t texted,” I mutter. “She always texts.”
