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Timofey sees it and presses a hand to my back. “It’s okay, Piper. You’re safe now. The gunmen are dead and Arber won’t try to attack again so soon.”
“It’s not that. I don’t know if I can go in that room again,” I admit. Embarrassment warms my cheeks, and I stare down at my feet. “You were fighting with intruders and protecting your house, and here I am, scared of a stupid closet. I know it’s ridiculous, but—”
“It’s not.”
“Don’t lie,” I say with a humorless laugh. “It’s embarrassing. I should be beyond horrified that I was almost shot, but all I can think about is how it felt when you closed the door to that safe room. It was like being buried alive. I thought I was going to…” My voice trails off, my throat too tight with emotion to squeeze the words out.
“What happened?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. Benjamin and I just sat there until you came back. There wasn’t room to do anything else.”
“Not tonight,” he says gently. “What happened that made you so afraid of small spaces?”
“It’s just a fear. Some people are born with them. I don’t know.”
The lie is clumsy and my execution is even worse. Tears burn in my eyes, and I blink them back.
He slides closer, his knee brushing against mine. “When I opened that door, your eyes were glazed over, Piper. You didn’t know where you were. You were somewhere else. You were fucking terrified.”
The truth expands inside of me, steam searching for a release valve. I try to hold it all in, but when Timofey uses his knuckle to catch a tear falling down my cheek, I break.
“It was my mom,” I gasp. “She—she put me in the trunk sometimes. When she couldn’t leave me at home.”
His face creases in horror. As it should. “She locked you in a trunk?”
His voice is a threat. If she wasn’t already dead, I’m positive Timofey would hunt her down.
“She was deep in her addiction,” I explain. “Her life was about getting high and figuring out how to get high. I wasn’t an asset to either of those goals.”
“You were a child. You didn’t need to be a goddamnasset.”
I snort tearily. “If only you’d been around to explain that to my mom. She left me at home a lot, but occasionally, someone would report her to Child Protective Services for abandoning me. When she got spooked, she’d take me with her.”
He huffs out an angry laugh. “Locking you in a trunk isn’t better than leaving you home alone.”
I take a shaky breath. “That’s because you don’t know the other option.”
Timofey watches me, waiting for my explanation. But I don’t feel pressured. I can tell there is no rush. He’s here with me as long as it takes. The ease I feel brings the truth rising to the surface.
“I guess between locking me in the trunk or letting me watch her get paid to have sex with random men, locking me in the trunk won out.”
It’s not my shame to carry; I know that. Still, I keep my eyes on the ground. I dig the pointed ends of my high heels into the dirt.
Then Timofey wraps an arm around my back.
I look over, and his expression is stony. “You undersold your parents, Piper. ‘Shitty’ isn’t a strong enough descriptor.”
I lean my head into the crook of his arm as more disgusting truth dribbles out of me like snot. “Occasionally, the man she hooked up with paid her in drugs. She’d get high and forget about me. So I’d be in there for a while.”
His arm tightens around me. “I wouldn’t have left you in that safe room if I knew.”
“You did the right thing, Timofey. We were safe in there. Benjamin is safe.” I glance over my shoulder at the house as if I can somehow see through the walls and see him sleeping soundly in his crib. “I’d go in there again if it meant keeping him safe.”
I’d do it for you, too,I almost say. But that truth stays buried down deep.
“I hope it won’t come to that, but I don’t know. We both have to be prepared for anything.”
“You really think he’ll try again?” I ask.
