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I sigh. “You don’t need to worry about me.”
“But I do, and it’s not up to you if I worry or not.”
Thinking about what would happen if I opened the Pandora’s box in my mind terrifies me. There are so many horrors I’ve tucked neatly away. Letting them out would not do me any good.
“Just trust me, okay? I’ll be back to work in no time.”
His face screws up. “Fuck work. I don’t give a shit if you never go back to fuckin’ work. I’m worried aboutyou.”
“Well, don’t be.” I take another bite of the sweet, decadent toast.
“I didn’t want to have to do this, but if you refuse to at least try, I can’t honor our agreement.”
I hadn’t even thought about my deadline to switch positions at the Honey Pot. Now more than ever, I need to earn as much money as possible in the shortest time. Getting out of Reno felt important before, but now, it feels crucial.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what? Fight for you?”
I scoff. “Ever since my first night here, you’ve been dangling this over my head. It’s like you get off on controlling me.”
“That’s not it,” he says, the chords in his neck straining.
“Isn’t it?”
His voice raises to just below shouting. “This has nothing to do with us and everything to do with the fact that I can’t allow you to go in there and fuck random strangers when you’ve been raped for years by your stepdad! I can’t be sure you won’t freak out when that door closes and you’re left alone with a client. Until you can get a professional to sign off that you’re mentally stable enough for that, you’re not doing it.”
Tossing a card on the table, he storms off, leaving me with my thoughts. I push my food away. Any appetite I was pretending to have is now gone.
Picking up the card, I read it and wonder how I can get out of this. Or maybe I don’t need to at all. I can keep being Mary’s number two, and though it might take me longer, the money is good. Plus, I’m not sharing it with Ray anymore so I can save faster.
Except I still can’t breathe easy living in the same city as Ray. Not even the Sons can touch him, so what’s keeping him from coming after me again? My stomach tightens into a knot, threatening to expel what little breakfast I consumed.
Then a thought hits me. I can fool a therapist, talk to her about the bare minimum and convince her I’m all good. I did it with all my teachers in high school. They’d ask where my bruises came from, and most believed me. Over four years, CPS was only called twice, and I convinced both social workers I was in a happy and healthy environment. Because even though things sucked at home, I knew foster care would be infinitely worse.
Yes. That’s what I’ll do. It might set me back a few weeks, but ultimately, I’ll reach my goal faster.
“And one more thing,” Rigger shouts across the pool deck, looking almost comical with his finger pointed at me in indignation. “If you care about me at all, if you’ve forgiven me even a little for my role in all this, you’ll at least try. For me.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine.”
He eats up the distance between us. “Really?”
“Yeah. Really.” I stand and gather the uneaten food. “Because I do care about you, Rigger.”
That part is true, even if I have no intentions of giving the therapy thing a real shot. Lord knows I tried to stop feelings from forming. It’s pointless and will only lead to complications. To my chagrin, somewhere between waking and sleeping last night, his arm around me, I realized I never stood a chance.
* * *
Two months later. . .
“You’ve done good work the past couple of months, Navy,” Danielle says.
I smile into my phone screen at the middle-aged woman I’ve come to adore. As hard as I tried to fight, Danielle found her way into my mind, drawing out everything I didn’t want to admit. But that didn’t make them any less true, and Danielle’s helped me realize that.
“Aw, thanks.”
“I’m serious. After our intake session, I thought it would take us years to reach this point. You were so closed off and resistant.”
