Page 84 of Rescuing You

“Did your father…these last couple of weeks, did he hurt you?”

“He did not feed me for a few days because I was disrespectful, but he didn’t touch me.” He hadn’t even hugged her when she’d first been presented to him like some sort of battle spoil, just flicked her away like a fly. Ten years absent, and he’d barely spared her a glance.

He was not the father she’d known as a child, the one who’d loved her and Jasmine and Mama, the one who’d never hurt them.

“How long?” Michael asked.

She scrambled to remember what they were talking about.

“How long did he starve you?”

“Three days. And he only fed me then because I promised to try harder to be the daughter he wanted.”

That brought raised eyebrows. “Did you? Try harder?”

“I am here, not there, so I think not. I only said it because I knew I would need strength. I can go without food—I have fasted longer than three days. But I would not have the endurance to escape if I didn’t eat.”

“Wise.”

“I can be, if I try very, very hard.”

At that, Michael smiled. “You survived. I’d say you did something right.” He lifted her hand and kissed her fingertips. “Whatever it takes to stay alive—that’s what you need to do.” The amusement faded from his expression. He lowered their joined hands and settled them back on her knee. “Which means you need to trust me. If I tell you to do something, you need to do it, without question.”

“But—”

“Even if I’m wrong. Even if you think you know better. Hesitation could get us all killed. And sometimes, I know things you don’t.”

“You could just tell me those things.”

“There’s not always time.”

Like at the hospital. The cameras.

She considered how to respond. Because, the truth was, she could agree to jump when he said to jump. She could. She just knew herself well enough to know that, when the time came, her stubborn feet wouldn’t leave the ground.

“I’ve never been good at that,” she finally said.

“Learn. Fast.”

She bristled at the command but clamped her lips closed.

Baby steps.

They didn’t have time for baby steps, though.

In the backseat, Jasmine gasped. “Pull over.” She lowered her window and stuck her head into the cool breeze. “Hurry. Please.”

After they got back on the road, Leila twisted to check on her sister.

Jasmine had rested her head in the corner between the backrest and the cool pane of glass, her legs stretched out on the seat beside her. Michael had given her a sweatshirt from his pack, which she’d laid over herself like a blanket.

If Leila wasn’t mistaken, her twin had already fallen back asleep after their short stop—just long enough for Jasmine to lean out of the truck and vomit.

Again.

“How is she?”

Leila watched for a reaction from her sister, but Jasmine didn’t move.