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“I want to come over. Tonight.”
“I just—”
“Is this really the choice you want to make today, Celeste? Think about it. I’ll give you a minute.”
“Yes, it’s the choice I want to make, Liam. Not tonight.”
“You have a headache?”
His tone has changed. It’s deceptively light, almost teasing.
“Yes, actually, I do have a headache, but that’s not why I’m saying no. I’m tired and under deadline, and I’m asking for a night to myself. I’ll make it up to you.”
“I know you will.”
I try not to grind my teeth. “May I have the evening off, Liam? Please?”
“You may, Celeste. I need to head to Miami for a couple of days next week. I was going to invite you along, but you’re obviously busy.”
“Miami?”
He laughs, pleased by my feigned dismay. I roll my eyes. I have no interest in going to Miami. I’ll appreciate the time to myself so much more. But I know how to play this game.
“Too late,” he says cheerfully. “You missed your chance. I’ll see you when I get back.”
“All right,” I say with an audible sigh. “I really do need to work, so I suppose it’s for the best.”
“And you’ll make it up to me next weekend.”
“I will.”
“Oh, that wasn’t a question, Celeste. Not a question at all.”
He hangs up, and I’m left looking down at my phone. The urge to run slams through me, but I stifle it.
No more running. This is my home. My house. My job. I could finally have a place in the world, and the only thing standing in my way is Liam, holding a guillotine blade over my head. He is the keeper of my secrets—all my secrets. He owns me.
I have two options. Run from the threat or eliminate it. I am tired of running.
I sit at the window, watching the shed and thinking. After about a half hour, the door opens again. The girl taking another bathroom break.
The more I think about the girl, the more I have to wonder what prompts a young woman to sleep in a shed. She looked like a backpacker. A modern-day hippie. What would make someone decide to backpack by herself through rural central Florida? Is it a choice? Or one of those situations where you pretend it’s a choice to hide the truth that you’ve run out of choices, that you’re alone and desperate.
How desperate might this girl be? How alone?
An idea plants itself in my brain. It is a grublike thing, barely pushing from the earth. It needs more to grow. More time. More data.
It is possible, just possible, that this girl is a gift from an indifferent god. An answer to my prayers. I need to get free from Liam, and this girl might be my way to do it.
