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We fall silent, both breathless, chests heaving, our smiles fading into something a lot more serious. Bastian’s hands lock together, grabbing me from underneath and pushing me higher up his hips. I let my notebook fall to the ground, hearing the mutedthudof it landing on the grass at his feet. Circling one of my arms around his neck, I thread my fingers into his hair before interlocking my hands behind his head.
Bastian’s eyes dance all around my face, studying me with growing intensity, and for a small hopeful moment, I think he’s about to kiss me.
“It’s time to go,” he says softly, gently placing me back onto the soft grass.
Disappointment swoops low in my stomach, but I ignore it.
What an outlandish thought to begin with.
“Go where?” I ask, bending down to retrieve my notebook, and maybe to also avoid his gaze, while I snap myself out of the daydream I fell into.
“Wherever you choose, Luce. I finished what I came here to do.” His quiet smile is almost nervous when I look back at him. “So where to next?”
Straightening back up, I answer with a wide smile, “Texas.”
* * *
We’ve beenon the road for a few hours now. I’ve let Bastian drive again, something about it feels almost soothing—like I can relax and daydream, still knowing that I’m safe with him at the wheel. A quiet peace that I didn’t have the privilege to experience around a man before.
Back in Sacro Nuntio, everything I did was monitored but we didn’t call it that. We called it being under God’s watchful eye. Even in my home life with Patrick, I was a role. Nothing else. I needed to adhere to severe expectations or I would be punished. The violence was sometimes physical, but it was the psychological kind the men there preferred, including my husband. For a very long time, especially when I was still a child—although I wasn’t considered as such—I would pray to be good.
But I neverfeltgood.
My entire life felt suffocatingly structured, and when I saw Lenix for the first time after thirteen years of separation, a part of me I didn't know could existsang. I knew without a single shadow of a doubt that my prayers had been answered.
Now looking back, I can’t tell if I was just naive to think God had always been on my side. Not when it was the same God who let my brother rape me under his watchful eye.
I am close to dozing off when a phone call startles me out of my daydream. It’s coming from the bottom of my backpack and I scramble to find it. Expecting to see Lenix’s name flash on the screen, I am surprised to find Bridget’s. I have not talked to her since we left the motel days ago.
Answering with an upbeat tone, my smile drops when I hear sniffles through the receiver.
“Bridget, what is wrong?” I say urgently.
“I can’t find Ritchie,” she says meekly. “I didn’t know who to call. I just—I just don’t know what to do.”
“What do you mean you can’t find Ritchie?” I repeat back, my eyes slowly sliding to Bastian’s and discovering that he’s already watching me intently. His gaze falls back to the road, seemingly unbothered. But I am beginning to see his mask, and the pang in my stomach tells me Bastian already knew about this.
“Imean, that he’s gone,” she says through small sobs. “He hasn’t been back to our room since the afternoon you two left.”
It could sound like an accusation, but her tone tells me she is just blindly recounting back facts without really piecing anything together.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her genuinely, while Bastian turns into a middle-of-nowhere gas station. “Is there anything I can do? Bastian is really good at finding people…” My voice trails off when I see the glare Bastian shoots back at me, and I just shrug my shoulder in response.
“No…” she says followed by another few sniffles. “I mean—it’s not like he hasn’t disappeared like this before. I just—I just thought maybe you would have seen him or something before you left,” she pauses, then sighs. “He’s not… he’s not a bad guy you know? He just—he doesn’t know how to manage his anger sometimes.”
My tongue is on fire, needing to tell her howwrongher statement is, but I swallow everything back down, having an inkling that this is not the right moment to tell her that. Instead, I find a few soothing choice words, hanging up shortly after.
The news of Ritchie’s disappearance hangs between us when I finally look over at Bastian.
“You knew,” I say after a stretch of silence. I could have saidyou did it, but something keeps me from wanting to know the entire truth. Exhausted by my own secrets already so heavy on my shoulders. And there’s also the simple fact that I am unable to find any sympathy for a man who could do such a thing to the woman he claims to love.
He keeps my gaze for a beat, then breaks the spell, opening the car door. “I told you I’d take care of it, Luce,” he mutters before stepping out and closing the door behind him.
Well, then.
I guess the conversation is over.
Feeling a little dazed, I stare out the front window taking in the scenery.
