MY HEAD IS SO SORE. I think I’m more mentally exhausted than I am physically. I’ve never had my brain actually hurt before. My heart hurts, too. It honestly feels like it’s broken. Like there’s a crack going diagonally through my chest, and every time I try to rub the ache away, it only makes it worse.
I feel betrayed, lonely, scared. Just… all the things.
I have never been this mad before. The sheer level of anger legitimately makes me vibrate. I’ve been hysterical and shaking for days on end. I’ve been the biggest bitch to Brandon, but he’s ignored my terse behavior. He won’t tell me anything even when I beg.
He let me sit in the front as soon as I calmed down, but when he was on the interstate I opened my door to try to jump out, he never let me sit by him again. It was dumb on my part, and even when I promised I’d never try it again, he still wouldn’t let me be in front.
I only know where we are if I happen to see a sign. So far, I’ve seen signs for Tennessee, Florida, Texas, and Arizona. If I wasn’t bitching at him, I was crying. If I wasn’t crying, I was sleeping in the back seat of his car.
He’s currently across from me at the little table in a motel room, tapping his thumb on the wood. I can’t remember what question he asked me, but whatever it was, I hadn’t answered.
“Will you stop it?” I snap.
He raises a brow and lays his hand flat on the table. “This is it, Olive. No more communication from anybody you once knew can happen from this point on.”
“I’m not an idiot. And it hasn’t happened since we left anyway.”
He presses his lips together and stands. “When I walk out of here, you’re on your own. I don’t know what’s in that envelope. When this is over, Jay will—”
“Let’s not pretend he fucking cares, okay?”
“He cares, Olive. That’s why you’re here.”
“Whatever.” I roll my eyes.
A sigh passes through his nose before he speaks. “Marco Denati drugs women, pimps them out until they’re so beat to shit they can’t even function, and then he sells ’em to the highest bidder. And do you know how much a worn-out, drugged out whore goes for on the street, Olive?” He tilts his head. “Not much. Any Joe can buy her for a twenty spot. And if they even survive, they wish they were fucking dead. Is that what you want?”
I cross my arms and look away from him.
“We’ve got an entire dictionary of charges on this guy, but none of them fucking stick, Liv. Hundreds of hours. Years we’ve wasted on this bastard and we finally, finally had a solid plan. But all he had to do was turn to Jay and threaten you.” He shakes his head. “Jay knew better. He knows he fucked up… Played right into Marco’s fuckin’ hand. Idiot.”
“Don’t call him that,” I snap at him.
“He is, and he knows it, but do you really think your man is going to let that shit slide? That he’s going to allow another man to threaten you like that?”
“No,” I whisper.
“Jay’s a smart man, Olive. He’s a damn good cop. Plays by the rules and doesn’t make mistakes. But this… he fucked up because he’s obsessed with you. And the only way he can fix it is to work his ass off more than he already does to put Marco away. He can’t do that if he’s worried about your safety more than he already is on a regular day.”
“He didn’t even let me say goodbye to my family.” I try not to cry thinking about them, but it’s pointless. “I didn’t get to say goodbye.”
Brandon’s face softens, and he hands me a tissue. “They’ll be okay. It’ll be hard at first. Having someone you love disappear from your life… having them there one minute and then gone the next is damn hard.” He swallows and then clears his throat, obviously relating to the situation in some way. “But Jay’ll let them know you’re safe. They’ll at least know you’re safe. You’ll be back home before you know it. Have faith in that.”
“Yeah, okay.”
He nods at the large manila envelope on the table. “Everything you need is in there. Money, identification, bank account information. The keys to your apartment and car are in there. The address is on your driver’s license, and the car’s out front. The license plate number is inside the envelope, too. I have no clue what car it is, so you’ll have to search to find it. I’ve been informed you have a full wardrobe and enough essentials to get you through a couple of weeks.”
“What do I do after that?”
“You need to find a job, Olive. The money won’t last forever, and there is no time limit on how long this’ll take.”
God, my job. Clay is going to be screwed. There isn’t anybody else to do my job and to just leave him with no warning… I know it’s not my fault, but I feel horrible.
“Any other questions before I leave?”
“What if I need help or something? Do I call you?” Not like I’d be able to. He took my purse, which included my cell phone. I don’t know anybody’s number by heart. Not even my sister’s. But I wouldn’t risk calling them anyway. Brandon said that if I contact them, it’s more of a risk for them than it is for me. I won’t put them in any danger.
“There’s a card in there with a number on it for the marshal, Ryan Breaker. Emergency only, Olive.”
I crisscross my legs on the chair and wipe the corners of my eyes with one of the several tissues in my hand.
“This is unusual, Olive. Marco’s not up for trial as of yet, so technically you shouldn’t be in the program, but—”
“Then why the hell am I here?”
“But,” he states firmly, “because of the circumstances and because Jay pulled a shit ton of strings in a very short period, you’re here, and you’re protected and safe. Don’t do anything stupid and jeopardize that.”
Understanding what he’s saying, I nod. “I won’t.”
“I know this is scary. But you’re a tough woman, and it’ll be over before you know it.” He makes his way to the door. “Take care of yourself.”
I watch him walk out, the last connection I have to my old life, and when the door clicks shut, I sit in silence. Being here, in this motel, gives me the absolute least sense of security ever. A large, heaving breath exits my lungs, and I push myself up and off the chair.
My legs are stiff from being in a car so much the past couple of weeks. Sleeping in motels with Brandon in the next bed was weird. He explained everything, and I knew we were just wandering around the country to throw Marco off our tracks if he came sniffing. But I’ve gotten barely any sleep, and the tension in my body has caused my back to fill with knots.
On my feet now, I rip open the envelope and grab the license first. My hand flies to my mouth when I see the name.
Kay Summers
He had to have had a hand in this. Kay sounds so much like Jay that any time I or someone else says the name I’ll be forced to think about him. And my real last name is Winters. Summers… What a jerk. I fight back a small smile that threatens to pull on my lips because of reasons I don’t even try to justify and continue looking through the envelope that is now my life.
I find the keys, license plate number, and phone, and then shove everything back in the envelope. Making my way outside, I walk around the lot. I don’t even need to see the license plate to know that the shiny yellow Volkswagen Beetle is mine.
“Slug bug.” I punch Jay in the arm. “No slug backs.”
He laughs and rubs his arm. “I’d never slug you.”
“I know. But I’ve always wanted one of those.” I nod at the yellow VW in the parking lot as we walk past it. “So whenever I see one, it sticks out.”
“You want a Beetle?”
“Yup. Always.”
“Hmm.” He tosses his arm over my shoulder as we make our way back to his Tahoe in the movie theatre parking lot. I really love that he always has a hand on me. His arm over my shoulder, his palm on my back, his fingers linked with mine. He makes me feel safe when I never even realized I was afraid before.
After he helps me into his vehicle, he drives us across town to a fondue restaurant where we order dessert only.
“Extra brownies,” he tells the waiter.
While we’re waiting for our chocolate, he takes my hand across the table. “What else have you always wanted?”
“Huh?”
“I didn’t know you always wanted a yellow bug.”
Smiling, I run my thumb across his knuckles. “We’ve only been dating a few months, Jay. You can’t possibly know everything about me in that short of time.”
“I want to.” I drag my eyes up from our hands. His pulse pounds in his throat, and the lines around his eyes are more prominent from squinting slightly. “I want to know everything there is about you, and I think I’m pretty damn close already.”
Gah! My inner girl is trembling with how hot he is. But the mature woman in me simply offers a quick smile. “That’s impossible.”
“Try me.”
I lean back in the booth and cross my arms. “What’s my favorite color?”
“Purple.”
“That’s easy. I wear a lot of purple.”
He shrugs. “You do.”
“What about my favorite movie?”
“Trick question. You have too many to pick just one.”
I giggle as the waiter brings our dessert over. Once he’s left, I glance at the brownies. Obviously, he knows I like them, so I won’t ask him that question. “What’s my shoe size?”
“Seven.”
“Dogs or cats?”
“Both.” He dips a chunk of brownie in the chocolate and leans over, holding it to my lips. “Your favorite dessert is brownies.” I open my mouth and suck his finger as he pulls it out and then slowly chew the chocolatey goodness.
He licks his thumb, and I feel my panties getting wet. “Delicious.”
“What elementary school did I go to?”
“Northview.”
I’m trying to think of when I told him that. “When did I tell you that?”
“You didn’t. When your mom was showing me photos, I saw the name in the background.”
“Observant.”
He winks and tosses a strawberry into his mouth, licking his lips as a drop of juice slips out. I have to take a sip of water to cool myself off.
“What size bra do I wear?”
“Thirty-two C. The most perfect size ever.” He makes a show of looking at my chest. “Love your tits.”
“Pig.”
“Only for you, darlin’.”
“What’s my favorite flower?”
“Sunflowers.”
“Pet peeve?”
“Loud chewing.”
I sigh and pick up an apple slice. “Jeez. Do you know my bank account number, too?”
“Seven-four-eight-one-one-two-six-four.”
My hand freezes midway to my mouth, and I contemplate our entire relationship due to his stalker status. He tosses his head back and howls with laughter. “You should see your face,” he wheezes the words out. “Oh God, Livvie. I don’t know your fuckin’ account number.”
I purse my lips at him and toss the fruit. “That wasn’t funny.”
“Yeah, it was. I love you, Livvie, but I’m not a stalker.”
My fingers shake, and I bring them to my mouth to cover the gasp.
“What’s wrong?” He’s out of his seat and next to me in the blink of an eye.
I turn to him and swallow down the burn in the back of my throat. “Nothing.”
“You’re shaking, baby.”
“You just said you love me.”
His worried eyes soften, and he runs his nose along mine. “I did. Because I do.”
“Wow,” I whisper.
He softly kisses me and rests his forehead on mine. “I love you, Olive.”
So now every time I see a yellow bug, I remember the very first time he said he loved me. How hearing the words and seeing the promise in his eyes made me fall out of lust and into love with him. I said it later that night to him, and he made me say it again while he was inside me.
Never will I forget that day, but every time I drive this car, it’ll be thrown in my face, and I don’t know how I feel about it right now. Pretty much pissed the hell off and I’m not sure that’s going to change anytime soon.
I unlock the vehicle and sit inside, immediately clicking the lock button. There are no numbers in the phone, but I thank God for a GPS app and plug in the address.
The engine barely makes any noise as I start it, and when I pull away, I almost slam into a pole because the pedal is so sensitive. I have no clue where I’m going, no sense of direction, and absolutely no confidence in my navigational ability. Somehow, I manage to arrive at my destination a few hours later.
Getting out of the car, I use my hand to shield the sun from my face which makes me actually laugh because I thought Washington was supposed to be cloudy all the time. The building is pretty tall. I count twelve stories. Although I have confidence in Brandon’s abilities and trust the marshal who organized my witness protection, I can’t move past the tingling fear in my spine.
I gather the envelope and lock the car then make my way to the door but a penny on the sidewalk halts me. Seriously? A moment of contemplation takes root, and before I can think about it, I bend down to pick it up. When a man pushes the door open from the inside, I startle and jump back.
“Sorry.” He chuckles. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
Since I’m so on edge, I can’t even form a sentence to respond, so instead, I look at my feet and walk past him. Stationed directly past the door is a security guard, and I manage to smile at him.
“Hello, ma’am.” He nods his bald head. His height is a few inches shorter than Jay’s, probably six feet, and I’d guess his age to be late thirties. Tattoos are clearly visible on almost every inch of his skin, but his smile is very, very kind. “Can I help you?”
“Oh, um.” I dig through the envelope and pull out the license. “I’m just, ah, moving in.”
He takes the ID and types something on a computer. “Yes, Ms. Summers, your things were moved in yesterday. You’re in 2A; best apartment in the building if you ask me,” he whispers as if he’ll get clobbered if someone hears him. “Corner unit, next to the elevator, but up a story so safety is better.”
I take the plastic card from his tattooed hand and tuck it in my jeans pocket. “Thank you.”
He points across the hall. “Stairs are right there.” Then angles his hand to the right. “Elevators there. You can take it up to your floor and down to the ground level if you parked in the underground parking.”
“Oh, I parked on the street.”
“That’s fine, but you do have a spot reserved with your apartment number down there. All spots in the lot behind the building and on the street are first come, first serve.”
“Thanks.” I lift my hand with a limp wrist and wiggle my fingers on my way to the elevator. A quick ride puts me on my floor, and as soon as I turn to the left, 2A stands out. I grab the keys again and open the door, not only to my new apartment, but a whole new life that I didn’t ask for and never wanted.
Straw.
That’s what my hair feels like after being stripped and dyed multiple times in the past few weeks. On the way here, Brandon stopped at two different salons to have my hair cut and colored. Right before we stopped at the hotel where I got my new life envelope, we stopped again and had a final style and color done.
Now, instead of my hair long and dark, it’s short and red. A sharp bob that starts at the back of my head and angles toward my chin. The bangs that fall just below my brow irritate the hell out of me.
I hate it.
All us girls in my entire family, Mom included, have hair down to at least the middle of our backs. It’s the Winters girls’ trait. And now, there isn’t a trace of it left. Much like who I thought I was.
At twenty-four years old, I have always had perfect vision, so putting colored contact lenses in my eyes feels weird and I’m glad I only need to wear them when I’m out. I look Irish. Red hair, green eyes. I feel foreign even to myself.
I’ve looked at my reflection in the mirror every day, still not believing I’m the one looking back. The carpet in the living room already has a line worn from where I’ve paced. I haven’t left my apartment, but I know I need to. My life is here now, and all I can do is try to make the best of it until I get to go back home. The end goal. Home.
Brandon gave me a packet from the marshal that included tips on finding a job with a new identity and where to blend in best. Places like a big retail store, a hospital, anywhere with a lot of employees.
Don’t do anything to draw attention to yourself.
I refuse to work retail; I did that in high school, and it was an awful experience. Blood makes me lightheaded, so a hospital is out. My dream has always been to open my own wedding planning business, but it’s not like I can start that here and now.
Working at Corner Bar & Banquet was a stepping-stone. A giant one. I had money saved, contacts, and even a lead on an office location I could rent. I was building a client list and was in the process of talking to someone about their wedding.
Now all that’s shot to shit.
I’m going to be working at some stupid store or in a stupid office.
“Ugh!” I stomp my feet and throw the first thing I can get my hands on, which happens to be a flat iron.
I realize that pouting isn’t going to help anything, so I grab my purse and walk out of the apartment for the first time in weeks. The elevator arrives immediately after I press the button, and the same security guard sits at the desk. He nods at me. “Ms. Summers.”
“Hi…”
“Darren, ma’am.”
“Hi, Darren.” He evokes a smile from me; it’s hard not to when he seems so genuinely happy. “Have a good day.”
“You, too.”
When I get to my car, I have no destination in mind. I just drive around town and stop at some stores, filling out applications. After a few hours, I’m starved and pull up to the first restaurant I see.
When I get inside, I immediately turn to exit. The place is super fancy with chandeliers and gold. Waiters with crisp white shirts and black pants. The lights are dimmed and classical music plays through the speakers at a level that’s too quiet to be missed but too loud to be ignored.
“Can I help you?”
I pause at the door and turn around. My mouth falls open a split second before I address him. It’s freaking Paxton Ray. The celebrity chef. The guy I’ve seen on TV before. The man whose cookbooks are a staple in my mom’s kitchen. The man whose restaurant I’ve eaten at back in Chicago.
“Uh…”
He smiles at me. The famous scar on his forehead blending when it wrinkles.
“I’m hungry.” Shit. “I mean, I would eat, but I think I’m underdressed.” I kick out a foot displaying my ballet flats and dark skinny jeans. Whoever stocked my wardrobe did a good job because I actually love everything. I’m just not dressed appropriately to eat here.
“There is no dress code here at Savor. Will someone be joining you this afternoon?”
“No.”
After grabbing a menu, he motions for me to follow him. I fiddle with the strap of my purse as I’m led to a table. He pulls a chair out at a little table for two. Jay has always been chivalrous, but having another man do it feels weird. Still, I sit and scoot up when he helps push me in.
“Can I start you off with something to drink?”
“Water is fine, thank you.”
He hands me the menu just as another guy comes to the table. This one younger and blond. “Ah, and here’s your waiter. Adrian will be taking care of you.”
“Thank you.”
He nods at me and then Adrian before walking away. I let out a breath and hook my purse on the back of my chair. Before Jay, I used to go out to eat by myself all the time. I’d even go to movies alone. Having three younger sisters, I never really got a lot of time to myself, so whenever I did, I had no problem with my own company.
“That was Paxton Ray.” I laugh to the waiter. And when I realize I’m actually laughing, I have a very short, very small moment of feeling like everything will be okay.
He smiles, unamused. “Sure was. Is this your first time here?”
“It is. I just moved from Chi—” I clear my throat. Can’t say that. Nothing about back home, what I did, how many siblings I had, the type of job I had, none of it exists anymore. “I just moved. I was actually looking for a job and stopped in because I was starved.”
“Well, you’ve come to the right place. Paxton’s prepared a delicious chicken Kiev this afternoon. It’s paired with garlic rosemary potatoes and an apple walnut salad.”
“Sounds great,” I lie. I have no clue what chicken Kiev is, and I hate fruit in salad. I do like potatoes, though.
“Perfect. Can I get you something else to drink?”
I shake my head. “No, thanks. Water’s fine.”
He smiles before walking away, and I can’t help but feel out of place. Around me, men in suits dine and women with beautiful dresses pick at salads.
Taking the moment in, I realize that I’m kind of proud of myself for finally getting out there today. I’ve never been the type of person to shy away from challenges, but I’d always had a big tribe at my back. Now that I’m alone… like alone alone, I realize how scared I am to be on my own. I’d never worried about it before, and I certainly never thought something like this would happen.
Still, I did it. I took the first steps into moving on with my new life.
Out of habit, I grab my phone to scroll through social media only to remember I have no social life. I go to my app store and download the sites I used to use and then I make up a name and a fake email address that’s not even Kay’s… not mine. Once I have access to search, I type in Opal’s name. Her profile pops up, and I choke down a sob then slam my phone on the table.
I can’t do it. I can’t sit here and look at their life. It’ll only make me miss my real one more. Out of sight, out of mind, right? Right.
When the waiter brings my salad, I cautiously take a bite. The flavor combination hits my tongue, and surprisingly, it’s delicious. As is the rest of the meal. By the time I walk out of there, I’m stuffed full after eating my first full meal in weeks. When the bill comes, I hand over the credit card I was given and pray it works.
Adrian comes back with the receipt, and I add a tip then pause as my hand hovers over the signature line. Unsure of how I’m going to sign, I grab my receipt and flip it over, practicing my new name.
There. I’ll use the last one. I like it the best, and it was the easiest to write. I grab my receipt and put it in my purse then sign the restaurant copy. When I get outside, I drive away and turn left, heading back in the direction I came from.
I pass the consignment shop I applied at, my hate for retail null since more than half of the places I applied to were clothes stores and my only realistic option. I pass the restaurant and the bar next door where I put applications in today as well.
Then I turn right and drive down a block then take another right only to find myself in unfamiliar territory. Okay, so I should have turned left. I go to turn around, only to end up on a one-way street. Shit.
If I drive in a circle, I figure I’ll be fine. I can find the bar and go from there. But when I get to the next street, it’s a one way in the opposite direction. I panic and pull into traffic since there’s a car behind me, but end up on a busy street where I’m left with no choice but to drive.
My hand falls from the steering wheel because of the sweat on my palm. I take a couple of deep breaths and finally pull off and into a parking lot of a grocery store.
“Relax,” I tell myself.
I reach into my purse and grab my ID and phone then unlock the screen and type in my address. The directions pop up, and I turn up the volume and then pull back into traffic to get home. Deciding I’d rather park in my assigned space, I drive to the back of the building and into the garage.
When I find my space, it’s cramped and dimly lit. I pull in but then decide to back out and park on the street. I feel much better being in the open.
Darren isn’t at the desk, which I find oddly uncomforting. I’ve only seen him twice, but knowing he’s here gives me a weird and probably unhealthy sense of security.
Once in my apartment, I lock the doors behind me and sit on the couch with my phone in my hand. I torture myself and open Facebook.
Jay doesn’t have any social media accounts, but I have plenty of pictures of us on mine. With fear that I’ll lose my account, I open the tab. Since my profile is private, the only ones in the album are my profile pics, so I download all of them without trying to look too hard at them.
I probably shouldn’t be doing this. There’s gotta be a section in my stupid manual about how dangerous it is to have pictures of your past life, but I don’t give a shit. Satisfied I have a couple of Jay and me and also of my family, I delete the app and swear that I will never open it again and look. It’ll be too hard to see my sisters grow up and not be there.
Fresh, hot tears roll down my cheeks when I think about what I’m missing. What I will miss if I’m here six months, a year, two years. God. I can’t believe I’m even here. I can’t believe he let me go. There were other options—no matter how dangerous that man’s threats were, there had to be other options.
Jay didn’t even let me say goodbye to my family. He knows how close we are. I never thought I would have feelings for Jay aside from love and lust, family and forever, but right now all I feel for him is hate.
I grab my phone again and find our pictures I just saved and delete them. “Fuck you, asshole,” I mutter as they disappear from my screen. He wanted me to be gone, wanted to make decisions for me, and wanted to ruin my life without even a warning… then he’s clearly not the man I thought he was.