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I swallow hard. “That’s true.”
He leans forward, propping his elbows on the table as his laser eyes search my face. “What happened, Jane?”
Part of me wants to scold him for being so nosy, perhaps even storm off to my room. But the genuine concern in his eyes is disarming.
I’ve never told anyone this story, but despite my reservations, I open my mouth to speak. Colton has a way of making people talk to him. Or at least me. I can’t seem to hide anything from him, and that scares me to death.
“When I was sixteen, I met this older guy, Zander.” His name burns my throat, and I hate that it still has that effect on me. “He had a motorcycle and a badass attitude. I had been in foster care and group homes my entire life, always shoved to the sidelines, but for once, someone took an interest in me. It was everything I ever hoped for. I finally had someone to guide me, and I took comfort in that. Until that guidance turned into control.” My throat chokes on the last word.
Colton doesn’t say anything, his eyes encouraging me to keep going.
“So much control I couldn’t go anywhere alone. I had to stop going to school. I couldn’t work or have friends. I wanted to leave him, but I couldn’t. Sometimes, it was his sweet talking that got me to stay. Sometimes, it was his fists. Every time I tried to escape, he was one step ahead of me. Stronger than me. Until one day, I managed to get out.”
I have to do this. It’s my only shot. Glancing around the messy trailer, I spot everything that belongs to me and brainstorm the quietest way through the room. My heart picks up its pace as I complete my assessment, and I tug on my sleeves like I always do. Discarded plates and glasses litter the floor, so I have to be careful not to hit them. I might bump into the tall lamp, and that would definitely wake him up. Zander has always been a light sleeper. Luckily, the heroin and whiskey combo he’s been abusing all through the night has left him sound asleep. My skin prickles with terror at the thought of even moving a finger, but it’s now or never.
Carefully, I stand up from the sagging couch, stopping halfway to make sure he’s still asleep. Then, I tiptoe as fast as I can around the room. I gather a few clothes, some shoes, and my purse. Things are sliding from my arms when I notice a blue duffle bag lying in the corner. I shove my belongings in, turning to make sure Zander is still snoring on the couch. My heart is beating so fast, it feels like it’s passing through a loudspeaker, booming and vibrating. Zander doesn’t seem to hear my thumping heart, but that doesn’t surprise me. He doesn’t even have one himself.
Standing up, I creep toward the front door, ready to flee this prison that has been my home for years. That’s when I see it. A stack of cash on the countertop. It’s not much, but it could get me far away from this place. Far away from him. Without thinking twice, I grab the pile and open the door as quietly as I can. The hinges crackle like they always do, and my body tenses. Zander snorts and turns over on the couch. Once I’m outside, I bolt, running as fast as I can.
“Jane.” Colton reaches over the table to clasp my hand, bringing me back to reality. I take comfort in the warmth of his touch. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s over now,” I say, squeezing his hand. “But that’s how I ended up here. I didn’t have a plan. I just hopped on the first bus out of town.”
Colton
I’m the one who asked for it, but Jane’s story shook me to the core. My emotions get tangled in my chest, and I don’t know what to say. I want to strangle that bastard for putting her through this, and my heart aches for that young teenager who got so broken by the foster system that she fell into the hands of someone like him.
Finally, I manage to find my words. “What happened to him?”
Her gaze flits around the room, her body seemingly shrinking. “I don’t know. Sometimes, I feel like he’s found me, but I never saw him again after that.”
“What do you mean?”
She sighs. “It’s just in my head, I guess. PTSD. I have the feeling I’m being watched sometimes, but there’s never anyone there.”
“Have you looked him up? Found out where he lives?”
Her entire body trembles. “I never gathered the strength. I was afraid that if I looked him up, he’d find me or something.” A weak chuckle escapes her. “Dumb, I know.”
My hand is still holding hers, and it feels smaller than ever. “It’s not dumb, Jane.”
“I’ve never told this story to anyone,” she squeaks out, her pitch suddenly an octave higher. “Please keep it to yourself.”
As if I would ever share her secrets. “Of course. And remember, you’re safe now. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“I know.”
Our eyes lock for what seems like an eternity, and I wish the moment would never end. I’ve just met the real Jane, and she’s even more amazing than I expected.
“So, anyway,” she says, clearing her throat. “That’s how I ended up here, and why relationships are not in my agenda. I didn’t exactly have the best experience with guys. I know it’s not supposed to be like that, and it could be different. But giving up power scares me too much. I need control.”
“I get it,” I say, finally understanding her motivation behind getting every single detail of our arrangement in writing. “I grew up in foster care too, so I understand wanting to be the master of your own destiny, even if my story is nothing like yours.”
She does a double take. “You were in foster care? But you said . . . Your mom . . .”
“She was my foster mom. When I was ten, she took me in. She couldn’t have children of her own, so it felt like she was my real mom. I got lucky. She didn’t have much, but she shared it all with me, and she truly cared for me. Not like the other foster parents I had before, but I don’t need to explain that to you. You know how the system works.”
She nods. “I’m sure she would be really proud of you today. Look at where you are, what you’ve achieved. Not many foster kids make it big.”
