Page 89 of Shatter

Abby's on the couch, on a laptop she must have ordered, a deep crease in her brow in concentration.

"What are you working on?" I ask, but she slams the laptop shut in surprise.

"It's a secret."

I shake my head. "Okay."

I couldn't care less what secrets she's hiding. She's here, barefoot, comfortable on my couch. Her parents are locked away where they can't hurt her anymore, and Whitmoore is working to liquidate Athena and Chris's properties and moving money from their accounts into the one that Abby opened a month ago.

She's meeting with a therapist and financial planner later this week. And she's even started writing about her childhood - things she's started remembering that were shady or manipulative.

She works on the couch for a few more hours while I get a workout in, and process some background checks and approve the events schedule and staffing schedule going forward at The Envelope for this next month.

"It's done!" Abby calls from the living room. She rushes over to me where I'm sat at the dining room table with my laptop.

She pushes her screen into my hands, but it takes a minute to understand what I'm looking at.

It's the picture she took of us in our underwear, but it's not scandalous. I'm in my black boxer briefs, glaring at the camera because this picture was what stood between me and my girl. But Abby's smiling brightly, in a plain white bra and underwear set.

It's the words surrounding us that take me a bit.

To my left it says: "Two month ICU stay - $1.2 mil, Eight months in physical therapy - $18.2 mil, Skin graphs - $7 mil, Three surgeries - $6.5 mil" with arrows pointing at my scars.

To her right, I read - "Monthly dye job and extensions - $30,000, bi-weekly mani/pedis $600, Boob job - $42,000, Veneers - $30,000, Nose job - $65,000, Tummy tuck - $35,000".

She's assigning a monetary value to our appearances. The message is clear. My scars cost me millions and months of recovery. They're what's left over as a reminder of surviving. Her numbers are things she had done for appearances and vanity - not her own, but her mother's.

Her hand traces around my neck and down my shoulder.

"Can I post it?"

I swallow around a ball of emotion before I nod. I don't know why this was important for her to post as part of her freedom, but I have a feeling it's her response to the picture of us on the balcony - her way of saying 'how dare you judge us on appearances.'

"How did you...?" I trail off, worried my voice will crack.

"I stole your sister's phone number from your phone. I hope that's alright?"

I nod again.

She takes a minute to post it, adding some sort of caption, I don't care, because when she's done I pull her into my lap and kiss the breath out of her.

Chapter forty-nine

Abby

My smile reflected back to me from the mirror is brilliant. My eyes sparkle in a way they didn't before.

I'm back in the makeup chair at Back to Last Night, and Ellie's putting on my makeup again, to blessed silence. Let her do it however she wants.

"You're so brave," she whispers as she lines my lower lid.

My smile turns soft. "No, I'm not. I'm just free."

"I didn't know..."

I hold her hand gently in mine, careful around the eyeliner.

"No one did. You couldn't have known, truly."