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I had no idea there was an attachment there. It wasn’t like the interwoven heartstrings that bound me to Remi through memories no longer in my head.
But there was something, a feeling of safety, maybe because Ollie was the one to save her. His car had passed by at the right moment when her tired legs were close to giving up, offering Joseph and his gun the chance to catch up.
His brake lights shone bright red against the early morning gloom. And for only a second, she froze. Joseph’s hands weren’t pulling her back. They weren’t tight around her throat. He hadn’t caught up, but fear had, and it paralyzed her.
Ollie stepped out of the car and took in her dirty clothes. He asked if she needed help, and when my silent friend nodded, he shuffled her into the car, but her arms were tight around his neck, and she wouldn’t let go.
He’d had to drive with her on his lap, cautious of his surroundings as he watched for whatever she was running from and for cops.
She sobbed out six words on the journey here, and he knew that he had to put his foot down to get her away safely.
Ollie not being in the house brought hysterics like I’d never seen. Tiny feet, attached to her almost skeletal body, rushed around the room in a frenzy after pushing away from me.
She was dressed in pajamas, and they were buttoned to the neck. She looked childlike and innocent, and it had nothing to do with her being only nineteen and five feet tall.
I offered her space, and she was happy to take it. She was happy for me to leave the room as long as she could lock the door behind me.
I followed the smell of tropical detergent to the kitchen, where the Blond—Declan—was folding laundry. I looked around, taking in the details of white cabinets and those fancy cups that no one was permitted to use, concealed behind glass doors. Black and gold accents filled this room and drifted into the living room in the form of fancy cushions filling the giant couch and ornaments lining the expensive cabinets.
“Where’s Kate?” I wondered aloud.
“She’s on a call with Ollie outside. Is Pene okay?” he asked, having clearly heard the drama down the hall. His fingers moved, folding a hoodie that was definitely Remi’s.
My eyes dwelled on the dark material, and I ignored the question, asking one of my own, “Have you heard from Remi?”
“Kate is on a call with Ollie right now.”
“So, they are okay then?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t they be?”
“I was worried over nothing, I guess. And Penelope needs some space.”
“She’s troubled.” He placed the hoodie to the side of the center island, his fingers moving to the next item of clothing. “I think she’ll have to be moved soon. Beyond Heaven will be better for her.”
“Do you think?”
“Yes.” Blue eyes landed on me. “Definitely. It’s not right for her to be here, especially under these circumstances. We aren’t psychologists. We aren’t even great people.”
Declan moved to the refrigerator and pulled out a soda, leaving me with many questions. “Want one?” he asked, holding up a cherry-flavored can.
“Sure.”
The can spun across the shiny table, landing in my waiting hand. I watched to see how Declan used the tab to pop the lid because I couldn’t ever remember drinking from one, and I always tried to hide in the darkest corner if Rothbart or one of his horrible giant brats reached for canned ciders or beers.
They were often so much more confident in their methods of causing pain after alcohol.
“What did you mean?” I couldn’t hold my questions in any longer.
“Huh?”
“You said you weren’t great people.”
He took a giant swig and used his foot to pull a barstool under his jean-clad ass. “Well…” the next words were drowned by another giant swig. “We all have dodgy pasts. But we’ve learned a lot from them. Maybe we aren’t too bad after all.”
Another drink told me he wasn’t open to questions. He continued folding.
An ahh sound left his lips before the words, “You need some help?”
