They ask questions. They take statements. They separate stories. And the truth settles in, heavy and undeniable.
Coercion.
An adult woman being prevented from leaving.
Finally, the officer turns back to Faith.
“You’re free to go,” he says. “Do you want assistance retrieving your belongings later?”
Faith looks at me.
I nod, barely trusting my voice. “We’ll take care of it.”
She exhales. A deep, shuddering breath.
William looks at her then, really looks.
“You’re making a mistake,” he says quietly.
Faith straightens.
“No,” she says. “I’m choosing myself.”
That’s it.
They can’t stop her.
She walks toward me without hesitation, her hand sliding into mine because it’s always belonged there. She’s shaking, but she’s smiling through tears.
Free.
Joy crashes into me so hard it almost knocks the breath out of my lungs. Relief. Gratitude. So close to happiness it hurts.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur, squeezing her hand.
She looks up at me, eyes shining. “I know.”
As we walk away, my brothers flanking us as a wall I didn’t know I needed, I feel lighter than I have in years.
She’s safe.
She chose.
And I am so damn over the moon I don’t even care who sees it.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Faith
February 3rd
Sleep findsme the way a storm finds a field.
Not gently. Not politely. It doesn’t ask if I’m ready or if I’ve processed the last… however many days it’s been. It just rolls over me the second the truck is moving, and the city is shrinking in the rearview mirror, and my body finally believes, on a cellular level, that no one is about to yank me back by the elbow.
I don’t remember deciding to close my eyes.
I just remember Dallas’s hand on my thigh and Boone driving the truck like a moving shield, and Nash’s voice cracking jokes, and then the lights outside turning into long soft streaks.
