Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

Two weeks later

Dahlia

W e’ve found a rhythm over the last few weeks, and now, I’m gazing at the screen as I hit submit on the last question for the GED test. I found out that I could take it online, which meant I immediately chose that option.

There’s something about impersonal classrooms that make me even more nervous.

Now, I just have to wait twenty-four hours for my results. Pushing my laptop to the side, I groan as I drop my head onto the kitchen counter. I really hope I passed. Though I still have no idea what I want to do with my life yet.

Something catches my eye as a bird flies past the window, and I’m proud of myself for not flinching. It was difficult in the beginning with window washers working outside of the apartment, or whenever Bee or Jack would come home unexpectedly.

I’m beginning to get more and more comfortable living in this apartment, even though it doesn’t feel like home yet. All of the security measures and lack of personal items make the apartment feel very sterile.

Maybe I need to change that.

My fingers itch suddenly to write, urging me to leave the kitchen to find a spiral notebook. I used to write poetry, though it wasn’t anything to brag about. It was a way for me to handle my feelings, which always felt too big for my skin.

I stopped when I moved to Michigan. The horrors happening to me were too much to put on paper.

I also didn’t want anyone to find it and use it against me.

Slowly, the words begin to write themselves down, my hand shaking slightly. I wish I was musically inclined, to help better feel these words. There’s pain, emotion, and uncertainty in each line, which makes sense for how tied up in knots I am about my next steps in life. Most people have their shit together by this point, or have some sense of what they’re working for, right?

Jack got me a cell phone so I could communicate with them throughout the day. Bee and he message me with cute memes or dirty talk, or ask about how my day is going. My days aren’t very exciting, because I’ve been studying non-stop, but I am so grateful to be able to have the ability to be bored.

I’m not fighting with my roommates or sleeping on benches. It’s a nice change.

My cell phone has a new email address as well, and it’s one that I carefully set up in my new name for my GED. No one knows the email, either, outside of official correspondence.

The door unlocks hours later, and I yawn as I look down at the writing I’ve been doing. There’s page after page of words that could easily find its wings if it had notes and direction underneath it.

Blowing out a breath at feeling frustrated I never learned an instrument or musical theory, I glance up to find Bee and Jack walking into the apartment. There’s still light outside, so they both finished work at a decent time.

“How did the test go?” Bee asks, walking toward me. They both texted me good luck before I went into the bubble of concentration for the test. After that, I got pulled into writing and didn’t come up for air until now.

“I think it went well, but I’m going to be a mess until the results come in,” I admit. “It feels like a big deal to pass, one step closer to whatever the hell I'm meant to do.”

“You have time to figure that out,” Jack says, walking further into the apartment. There’s grocery bags in his hands, which is good, since I’m starving. He must notice my glance at the bags, because he tosses me a thing of chips.

“We are going to talk about how you obviously skipped a meal if you looked like you wanted to cut me for a snack, baby girl.”

Giggling, I open the bag and happily crunch away as he disappears into the kitchen to put things away. “I lost track of time,” I tell him. Jack’s eyes catch on my notebook as he comes back into the living room, and raises his brow.

“Are you writing or drawing?” he asks. The nice thing about Jack knowing me my entire life is that he gets me. He’s had notebooks stacked on the coffee table, and I don’t think it was for himself. I think he may have left them for me.

“Writing,” I say, taking a refilled bottle from Bee when she hands it to me. I wolfed down these chips. “I finished the test and felt the need. I really wish that I had any sort of musical talent so I could watch the words dance, but I don’t.”

Jack blinks at my words, trying to figure out what I mean, and I sigh.

“That’s weird, right? Words don’t move,” I mutter.

Bee shrugs as she comes to sit down next to me. “I mean, they have movement when they’re put to music,” she says. “There’s emotion, ebbs and flows, I would say that counts.”

“They do, I’ve just never heard it said like that before,” Jack says. “You’ve always loved music, concerts, festivals, so you’ve been around it enough to understand the power of words put to music. I don’t think it’s weird at all. Can I see what you’ve been working on?”

My fingers touch the cover of the notebook as I worry at my lip. Jack’s never laughed at me a day in his life, I doubt he’ll start now. Handing it to him tentatively, I watch as he sits in the armchair next to me, beginning to read through my words.

After a few lines, he leans back into the chair, tears escaping from his eyes.

“This is why I don’t let people read my notebook,” I murmur, getting up to climb into his lap. “They’re just too sad.”

“It doesn’t mean they’re not really fucking good,” Jack rasps, pulling me close to him. Laying my head on his chest, I can hear how hard his heart is beating as he continues to read. “Why did you stop?”

“My words felt broken, and my drawings were just too dark,” I reply. “I didn’t want anyone to find them.”

“You didn’t want me to find them, because then you’d have to explain them?” Bee interjects.

“Yeah,” I say. “It felt as if I was leaving evidence behind, and I couldn’t do that. Gareth was always watching me. It was easier to basically lead two different lives. I lived for the sunlight, and spending time with you and Jack. It was harder for bad things to happen then.”

Bee slowly walks over to us, and Jack moves his arm, so she can climb in next to me.

“I hate that he did this to you,” she whispers, holding my hand tightly. “I’m so damn sorry. I wish you had left evidence. Maybe we could have gotten out together.”

Blinking away the tears that are threatening to overflow, I shake my head. “I don’t think I was supposed to get out,” I gasp. The emotion is drowning me, and I’m trying to stay afloat. “Dead girls don’t tell the truth, right? That’s why he gave me a knife and told me to kill myself. I really think he expected me to.”

“He probably thought you’d clean up his mess,” Bee says, touching my short curls. She sounds detached from the fact that Gareth is her father, and I assume she does it consciously. “Gareth told me to stay a few more days at my aunt’s house, and he probably was trying to figure out his next moves. Maybe he panicked?”

“I don’t know,” Jack rumbles under my head. “He was violent when I picked her up, and then it escalated. I doubt he had a plan after he hurt her. Fucking bastard should have been glad you left, not been looking for you still.”

“I could always talk if I’m not under his thumb or dead,” I remind them. “I’ve felt safer in this apartment than I have in a long time. It’s harder to believe that he can get to me here.”

“He can’t,” Jack growls, his lips brushing my forehead. “I have a client I want you to meet. Your parents never thought about music lessons, but it’s not too late to learn, if you want? He runs a music school and recording studio. He mentioned to Elira that he’s looking for someone to run his front desk, and that he’s interested in getting background checks done on the person he decides to hire. Sullivan hasn’t even put in an ad for the position.”

Breathing through the residual emotion I feel from talking about Gareth, I nod. “You’re sure he hasn’t found anyone?” I ask, my voice squeaking. Fuck, that’s awful.

“You can cry with me,” Jack says softly. “No one is going to judge you for it in this room. For fuck’s sakes, I just teared up at how incredible your writing was. You’re fucking amazing. Don’t hold shit back with us.”

Bee gazes back at me with a soft smile, her green eyes wet. “Holding onto everything isn’t good for you. I get tired of crying too,” she murmurs.

“Exactly,” I sigh, angrily dashing away tears. “I feel like I want to live my life, not cry. So… have they, Jack?”

I tip my head back to look up at him, seeing his lips twitch before lowering to kiss me. Jack breathes in deeply as he shakes his head.

“No, they haven’t,” he says. “I think it was said in passing in preparation to begin looking. Want to talk to him? We can go tonight.”

“Isn’t that a little desperate?” I ask. “Not that I have much pride either way.”

Jack pulls on one of my curls hard enough to make me hiss, rolling his eyes. “Pride has nothing to do with it, baby. Don’t talk down about yourself again, or I’ll spank you,” he growls.

“So many promises,” I say before clapping my hand around my mouth, eyes wide.

“Gotta commit now,” he says darkly. “This will be fun. I was going to make dinner before I need to have drinks with him, but I’ll change our plans to include food and you’ll join me. Bee, think we should make things interesting?”

“Always,” she says almost immediately, grinning.

“Perfect. Are you coming with us?” Jack asks, his hand moving to play with the hair at the base of my neck. It slightly tickles, raising goosebumps on my skin.

“Ugh, I would love to watch our girl squirm, but I have a call with the head of the psychology department tonight,” she says. “It’s the only time he had, and he wanted to go through my options for grad school. There’s a few different programs I could go into for counseling. Psychology may not be the best one if I want to get licensed fairly quickly.”

Jack nods as if this is something they’ve discussed in some way before.

“I think knowing your options are good, especially if you want to get into the field without a doctorate degree,” he says. I must look confused, because he continues. “You would think that getting a psychology undergraduate or graduate degree would allow you to do some kind of counseling, but it doesn’t. Rather, a mental health counselor or social work degree will allow you to once licensed. Bee is digging through to see which option is better for her.”

“Hmm social work would allow you to also work in the community the way you have been, right?” I ask.

Nodding, Bee says, “It would give me a larger scope than just counseling, which I really like. I’m taking a gap year to apply, but did really well on the test I needed to take for grad school earlier this year. Now, I just need to weigh my options.”

“I’m going to get changed and text Sullivan with the plan,” he says, tapping us to get up. “I also have something I want you to wear, Dolly. I’ll get it.”

“I have clothes,” I remind him as he gets up and disappears. Blowing out a breath, I gaze at Bee for help, but she just giggles.

“I somehow don’t think it’s clothes, though you may want to change,” she says. I’m in a lounge set, and while it’s cute, she’s right. I probably shouldn’t wear this out to see a potential employer.

“Come explain while I change,” I grumble, walking to the room as I think about what I want to wear.

“I’ll help you find clothes, but explaining completely right now would ruin the surprise,” Bee teases me as she follows me. “You have a pretty navy jumpsuit that would work for this.”

Humming noncommittally, I still obediently find the outfit in my closet. It’s overflowing with clothing, while Jack and Bee share the larger closet in the other room.

Stripping, I change into the jumpsuit, glad that it has a built-in bra that holds my breasts. A pair of cream heels, quick spritz of my curls, my gray contacts, and I’m ready to go. I don’t really know how to apply makeup, nor do I have jewelry, so this is as good as I’m going to get.

“God, you’re so gorgeous,” Bee sighs, fluffing my hair as Jack comes in.

“Damn, from couch poet to glam girl in very little time,” he says. “You look stunning, Dolly.”

My cheeks heat at his words and I smile. He’s wearing a pair of dark-wash jeans and a white-button-up shirt that’s rolled up to show off his tattoos. The two tattoos he got for Bee and I are healing nicely as well.

Holding something up, he shows me an egg-like device, making me confused.

“This connects to a remote control in my pocket. You’re going to put this in your pretty, pink pussy, and this part here will press against your clit,” he explains, showing me where the toy extends to cup my clit.

My lips part in surprise as he smirks, and I shrug. Game fucking on. I won’t shrink away from a challenge.

“Jack is merciless,” Bee warns. “Just know you’ll probably come in a public place. Have fun!”

She leaves me standing in the room with a grinning Jack, who is pressing the toy into my hand.

“I am merciless,” he concedes. “I promise I won’t hinder your ability to get the job, baby.”

“Deal,” I murmur, wiggling the jumpsuit off to put it inside of me.

“Why are you not wearing a bra?” he groans.

“Built-in bra,” I explain, hissing at how cold it feels as I push the toy inside of me. I’m glad that I’m wearing panties just in case. I don’t trust the vibrator not to fall out. Fixing my panties back into place, I begin to pull my jumpsuit back on, moving slower as I watch Jack’s heated mismatched gaze follow the disappearing path of my skin.

“Fuck me, you’re killing me,” he says. “I’m going to tease you, spank you, and then fuck you tonight, baby girl. I hope you’re ready.”

Adjusting the straps of my jumpsuit, I shrug. “I’m learning I’m always ready when it comes to you,” I say.

Jack and Bee’s sexual appetites are voracious. I think we’ve fucked all over the apartment, and once Bee ate me out on the couch, while Jack fucked my face. I always want to be near them.

“Come on, little brat, before I decide to replace that toy with my cock,” he murmurs, hustling toward the door.

“That isn’t the threat you think it is,” I say with a giggle.

We both say goodbye to Bee, who is set up with her laptop on the couch, for her meeting with a toasted sandwich for dinner.

“We’re going to Torrento’s, so I’ll pick up a slice of lemon cake for you,” Jack says with a smile.

“Yum. That sounds wonderful, and worth missing Dahlia squirm,” she says wickedly.

“Ugh, you’re such an instigator,” I tease her as we leave the apartment.

Once we’re in the truck and Jack begins driving toward our next destination, I shift in my seat. The toy has weight inside of me, and every time I move, it lights up more nerve endings.

Swallowing a whimper, I can’t imagine what it’ll be like when it’s on. “How do you know Sullivan?” I ask, in an effort to distract myself.

Smiling knowingly, Jack says, “l met him through a small business owners networking event downtown a few months ago. We hit it off, and he told me he needed to revamp his security procedures, because there are many times where the paparazzi will try to camp out, or infiltrate his business.”

“Really? They’re that soulless?” I ask, wide eyed. “I couldn’t imagine infringing on their privacy like that.”

“Oh yeah,” Jack grunts. “Sullivan has guard detail now and security cameras, so I feel confident that you’ll be safe there. I know you need to do your thing, but I also worry.”

“I appreciate that,” I tell him. “I could tell myself that there’s nothing to worry about or it’s all in my head, but I know it’s not.”

“I’m going to hire an investigator to look into Gareth,” Jack says suddenly. “I’ve been telling myself I’ll have Greg look into it, but he’s been really busy helping a client. Brady can also poke at his finances, maybe find a way into his computer network. I hate seeing you still jumping at shadows, especially when I know it’s for a reason.”

“I just want to know if he's still looking for me, or if he saw that ‘Dahlia’ is dead,” I say. “I don’t know how effective this will all be unless he believes it.”

“You’re right, so I’m going to start working on it from my end, until he can free up some time, and you can enjoy your new life,” Jack says, pulling into street parking.

“Okay,” I say with a deep breath. There’s so many moving parts to this, and I am grateful for all the man hours everyone is putting into helping me.

“Thank you for looking into it. I keep thinking I’m going to walk down the street and run into him.”

“You are still within the statute of limitations if you want to go to the police,” he reminds me, though his face says he knows I’ll turn it down.

“Gareth versus the street urchin whose mother he married,” I mutter with a strangled sound. “I don’t think I’ll have a chance. I’m over eighteen, he can’t force me to live with him, but I don’t doubt that he’d threaten my mother in an attempt to do what he wants. Money talks.”

“So does mine, baby,” Jack says with a smirk, getting out of the car, to run around the truck, to open the door. I leave my phone in the cup holder, knowing Bee can get ahold of Jack if she needs to.

After so long of being without a phone, it feels weird to have it attached to me.

Getting out of the vehicle, I balance well on my heels as I move out of the way, so Jack can close the door behind me. Taking my arm, he locks up, walking me into Torrento’s. It appears to be some kind of bar and restaurant that has Italian food.

I keep my hair around my face as I walk, my head held high. It’s a battle to stay anonymous, despite the knowledge that this street and buildings have various forms of surveillance.

“Breathe, baby. You’re doing great.” Jack rumbles as he opens the door for me.

The hostess gives us a smile, her eyes on Jack as she speaks to him. “Table for two?” she asks, and Jack simply pulls me closer to him as if to shield him.

Now I know why he brings a date to his work engagements.

“No, my girlfriend and I are meeting Sullivan Hayes tonight. The table should be under his name,” Jack says smoothly.

My body is against his hard chest, his hands flexing on my waist. I want to tip my head back to look at him, my eyes asking questions about his statement, but I resist. I didn’t think we were using labels, and while it gives me all the warm and fuzzies, I don’t want to give him problems with the media or his work due to my age.

My history is less of a factor now that I have my new identity, which is one of the only reasons I smile at the hostess, my body relaxed in front of Jack. It’s not her fault she misread the room, and the man behind me is absolutely gorgeous.

As her face falls and she turns to take us to our table, Jack’s lips press against the shell of my ear. “I realized as I said it that I like the way it feels to call you my girlfriend,” he murmurs. “It’s not my fault I have two beautiful women who are all mine. I hope you’re alright with this, because claiming you is becoming my new favorite addiction.”

Shivering at his words in excitement, I decide being claimed by Bee and Jack is fast becoming my new favorite pastime.