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I kneel next to the bed. “Two weeks. If you let your leg heal and don’t push your recovery, you’ll be returning to England then.”
He nods, but there’s no relief or joy in his expression. “Have you tried crossing over the Pyrénées?”
I shake my head. “I know people who have attempted it.”
“Any of them survive?” His expression tells me he doesn’t want me to lie, even now when he doesn’t have to think about the odds of survival yet.
“Some did.” And others were intercepted by the Milice or Gestapo before the escapees made it to the mountain range.
But it wasn’t just the escapees who were captured or executed.
It was also the people who helped the downed pilots move along the escape line.
People like me. I’ll be the one to escort him on the next leg of his journey.
19
JESSICA
March, Present Day
Maple Ridge
I checkmy phone for what must be the fifth time in the past twenty-eight minutes. Troy is due soon, and I can’t stop pacing the hallway. At this rate, I’ll be exhausted before we even start hiking.
A yawn powers through me, reminding me Iamexhausted. I woke once last night and again this morning from the nightmares that still torment me.
I glance at the green shag carpet in front of my feet. “Why can’t you leave me the hell alone?” That’s where my husband went. Hell. “You’re dead. Let me finally live my life in peace.”
I’m so tired. Tired of constantly being reminded of all the mistakes I made. Tired of the constant reminders of how I failed my daughter. Not that Amelia will know I let her down. She won’t even remember me. As far as she’s concerned, Grace is her mother and Craig is her father. I’m nobody. She doesn’t even know I exist.
I’m tired of walking on eggshells, waiting for the media to expose me.
The doorbell jerks me from my memory. I walk to the door and open it. An excuse for why I can’t go hiking hovers on my lips. I didn’t get much sleep last night. I’m exhausted. That’s a good excuse.
What I can’t tell Troy is I’m shaken from finding out Avery’s boyfriend is a cop. It was what sent me into a panic attack last night. It took me a few minutes in the washroom to talk myself down from the spiral I’d felt myself slipping into.
Troy is standing on the porch, Butterscotch by his feet. The dog cocks his head to the side, his cute expression impossible to resist. He whimpers and sits his butt on Iris’s welcome mat as if he senses my first words, my excuse for why I have to cancel.
Troy’s wearing dark-green pants, a navy T-shirt, and an ovary-exploding smile. His well-honed biceps and the edge of a tattoo peek from under his T-shirt sleeves. “Mornin’.” Behind him, the sky is crisp and cloudless.
“Sorry for not calling, but I think I’ll have to cancel.”Think?That’s hardly the decisive response I was aiming for. “I have a lot to do with the house before I can start the renovations.”
His smile doesn’t leave his face, but there’s new emotion in his eyes that I recognize. Stubbornness. “Great. I’d love to hear what you’re planning. You can tell me on the hike.”
Yeah, can’t see that happening.
“Simone, Zara, and Emily are looking forward to you joining us.” Troy’s tone is casually smooth and deep and half-coaxing. “They’ll kill me if I don’t show up with you. They’ll be positive it’s my fault you changed your mind.” His tone switches to teasing and flirty. “Surely, you don’t want them to kill me, do you?”
I know he’s joking, but the word “kill” causes a chill to knife me, and a shudder rushes through my body. I can feel my face pale, the blood draining from it.
Butterscotch whimpers again. I kneel to stroke him.
Troy also crouches and reaches for my arm but then changes his mind. He lets his hand drop to his side. “Hey.” His voice is whisper soft. “Whoever hurt you in the past, I’m not that person. None of my friends or my brothers is that person. Give us a chance to prove it.”
Resentment churns in my stomach. It’s not directed at Troy. It’s for my dead husband. It’s for the inmates who tried to end my life and the guards who looked the other way. I’m tired of being like a wounded animal. The one who constantly expects a tire iron to the head. No, I don’t trust Troy. I don’t trust anyone. But do I want to spend the rest of my life hiding in my house, constantly afraid?
Besides, Noah won’t be joining us on the hike, so I won’t have to worry about him possibly recognizing me. I haven’t figured out what I’m going to do about him. Do I keep as much distance from him as possible—and by extension Avery?
