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66
Willow
Thirty minutes ago
“You’re afraid of me?” Jamie’s skater shoes crunch over the glass on the balcony. As if the sound constitutes a bell chime, a small dose of reality ribbons between the two of us.
A crimson streak runs the length of the denim at his thigh as he wipes blood from his hands.
“I’m not afraid,” I speak up. “Why would I be? We’re friends.”
Wild furry ignites in his eyes. “You . . . know.”
“Know what?” I run a tentative hand over my brow.
“I should’ve figured this would be Cam’s next move.” Jamie slaps one hand into the other palm. “My brother had to get you back.”
“Camdyn hasn’t told me anything.”
“But you know. About the abduction. The rape,” he rasps.
“Yes—no!” I suck on the chilly night air.
“Which is it?”
“I searched online, Jamie. I read a few articles about the kidnapping. They were all vague. I don’t know any details, and Camdyn didn’t share. Camdyn loves—”
“Come with me.” The tone of his voice leaves no room for negotiation.
I follow like a lamb to the slaughterhouse. Jamie leads me down the stairs of the house and to the back. Dressed in a camisole and short set, I feel goosebumps fly over my bare legs and arms. I run a gentle hand over my stomach. “Uncle Jamie needs Mommy’s help with something, little one.” My voice trembles, a subconscious reminder to him. In response, the blades of his shoulders round just a tad.
Inhaling deeply, I try to use my learning experience in the real world. I focus on the psychological tactic of strengthening our bond. “Uncle Jamie, loves you, little—”
Jamie wheels around on me. With the sensored lights farther away, he’s a million times more menacing in the dark. “I deserve to be more than Uncle Jamie, Willow!”
We pass through the sectioned-off area of the tennis court. “You are more than Uncle Jamie. You’re a very good friend of mine.”
His face looms closer, breath colliding over my nose. “Much more.”
Stacking my back muscles, I strengthen my spine. “Open up to me, Jamie. If I’d endured what you had, I’d never set foot in a park.”
“Shhh.”
Out of the blue, it all clicks. “The little one will beg to visit a park one day. You’re building it—”
“Shut up!”
“So, the baby’s safe?” I wrap my arms around the swell of my stomach.
Jamie goes to tug hair that’s no longer there. He gives a curt nod, then flicks his wrist at the tiny staircase.
“This is beautiful. Baby will love this.” With one hand, I run the length of the smooth cherry wood. With my other, my fingernails press under, tearing half-moons into my flesh as I smile.
The sides of Jamie’s mouth flicker upward for the faintest second. “Do we have a name yet, Willow?”
“I’ve written down a few. Does your family have a tradition—”
“Move now!” Jamie grits.
