Chapter 5

Iturn away from the open window and cover my mouth with my hand so nothing comes out.

I thought a walk would clear my mind, but I had no idea that I would hear my name when I was walking past their window. I should have kept going. I know better than to listen in on conversations, but a part of me desperately wanted to know if there was even an ounce of regret in their actions.

Now I know I’ve been nothing but a fool. Tears prick my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. Fuck them. I don’t deserve this. I did nothing wrong, unless you count being born.

I hurry away before someone sees me and head back to Greg’s place. Blowing out a deep breath, I make sure I’m composed before knocking on the door.

When Greg opens it, he frowns before cursing. “I can’t believe I forgot to give you a key.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t want to wake you. I just went for a walk.”

“Well, now that we’re both up and dressed, how about that ride into town?”

My first instinct is to say no and hide away in my room, but that’s all I’ve ever done. Hide away from the world and watch life pass me by.

“Yeah, I’d like that, Greg. Thank you. I promise that when it’s safe, I’ll get a job and pay you back for everything.”

“No, you won’t. This is my gift to you. I don’t have any kids or grandkids to give it to—something that hit home when I was shot. I can’t take it with me when I go, so let me do what I want with it while I still can.”

“Wow, and you said I was trouble. But you, sir, are the master of guilt.”

He grins. “Thank you. I’ve been training my whole life for this moment.”

I can’t help it—I laugh. It’s impossible not to like Greg.

“I’m going to head over to the main house and let the others know where we’re going. I’ll meet you over there.”

“How about I meet you at the car?”

“I’ll meet you at the main house. You’ve done nothing to be ashamed of. Don’t let those assholes treat you like you have.”

I bite my lip, giving in. “Okay, I’ll meet you over there in ten minutes. I want to freshen up.”

“Take as long as you need. I won’t leave without you.”

I swallow around the sudden lump in my throat, unsure where it came from. No, that’s not true. It was Greg’s comment about not leaving me. It’s a sweet thing to say. No one has ever waited for me. I’ve always been an afterthought, always left alone. If life has taught me anything, saying and doing are two different things.

Freedom has always been a fairy tale to me, something unattainable, but loneliness has always been my constant companion. I could be standing in a room full of people, but I’ll always be alone.

“I won’t be long,” I reiterate. I won’t keep him waiting. I don’t want to risk him changing his mind. And getting out of this place, even for just a little while, sounds like heaven.

I wait for Greg to leave before I head to the bathroom. Taking a deep breath, I wash my face and finger-comb my hair up into a messy bun. Staring at my reflection, I briefly wonder if it’s worth getting up each morning and putting on the act I’ve been forced to play—the one where I meet everyone’s expectations and don’t rock the boat. I don’t draw attention to myself or ask questions when I know it’s better to keep my mouth shut.

It would be so much easier to go to sleep and never wake up. There’d be no more fear, no more pain, no more hiding who I am and where I came from. No more hiding what I can do.

But every time those dark thoughts creep in, I see Alfie in my mind—his too-serious face that’s just one more loss away from crumbling. I picture Delaney crying for me at night and Noah withdrawing further. I shudder at the thought of Bella watching it all play out in a vision. No matter what, I won’t do that to them. My pain is no greater than theirs. They have endured more than me, and they’re still here, still holding on. If they can do it, so can I.

Standing straight, I turn away from the mirror and head out to meet Greg.

I don’t pass anyone on my way, thankfully. But as I get closer, I can see through the windows that there are a few people already inside. I had hoped to avoid as many of them as I could for as long as possible, but I guess that was wishful thinking.

I pull the door open and freeze when the conversation grinds to a halt and all eyes turn my way. I stay where I am, my pulse racing, unsure if I should stay or turn around and run.

Greg takes the choice out of my hands. “Ah, there you are. Let’s get this show on the road. You’re going to have to drive, thanks to my stupid injury. Do you drive stick?”

I bite my lip, my head dipping with embarrassment. “I can’t drive. I don’t have a license.”

More silence before I hear Oz speak. “You can’t drive because you don’t have a license, or you don’t have a license because you can’t drive?”

I lift my head, meeting his gaze. “Both.”

He frowns at me, confused, and the truth spills out. “I can”t get a license without a birth certificate, and even if I had one, there was never anyone to teach me.”

He growls. “I’ll teach you.”

I jolt at the unexpected offer. “Did you forget that you hate me?”

He rolls his eyes. “I don’t hate you. I’m an asshole, but I’m an asshole to everyone. Don’t take it personally. I’m not saying I trust you, but I’m sure I’ll get there.”

I swallow and take a step forward. It’s not the worst apology I’ve ever heard, but it’s far from the best. Yet, it might just be the most genuine.

“Thank you, Oz, I’d like that,” I tell him softly.

I take in the scenery as it speeds by. Everything is so big and bright.

“You okay back there?”

I look at Greg, who is peering over his shoulder at me from the front seat.

“Yeah. It’s just really pretty here. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“You should see it in the fall. All the colors. I think it might be my favorite season. What about you?”

I shrug. “I never really got to appreciate the seasons in the city. Everything was just cold and gray, wet and gray, then warm and gray.”

Oz snorts before taking a left turn. “You’ve never been to the country before?”

“I’ve never been anywhere before.” I turn to look back out the window, not wanting to miss anything.

“Remind me to take you to see the ocean one day.”

I whip my head around. “Really?” My voice comes out barely above a whisper.

I see him frown at me in the rearview mirror. “Of course.”

I settle back in my seat, a soft smile playing on my lips at the thought. It might not seem like much to those who take it for granted, but seeing the ocean—dipping my feet in the cool water and leaving my footprints on the warm sand—has always been on my to-do list.

When I was younger, I watched a movie about a woman who found a message in a bottle. Something about it struck a chord with me. So few people knew I existed. I wanted to write a note and pour my heart out in it, but knowing my luck, it would probably end up on the ocean floor.

The dreamer in me, however, always loved the idea that one day, maybe long after I’d gone, someone would read those words and know I lived. That I laughed and cried, had hope, and despaired. That I was more than my gift.

When the car stops, I realize I’ve gotten lost in my thoughts.

“We’re here?”

“We are. I hope you’re hungry. This diner makes amazing pancakes.”

I grin as excited as a kid about to enter a toy store and hurriedly unbuckle my seat belt. I open my door and climb out before opening Greg’s for him and offering him my hand.

He grumbles but takes it. “It should be me holding the door open for you.”

“I’m a big girl. I’ve been opening doors on my own my whole life.”

“Smart ass.”

Smiling, I wait for him to step away from the door before I close it. Oz is ready and waiting for us on the sidewalk.

“You’re coming with us?” Greg asks, surprised.

“Did you not hear me mention the pancakes here?”

I bite my lip as I step up next to Oz, and he looks down at me.

“That okay with you?”

“Are you going to be mean to me? Are you going to make me cry?” I let my lip wobble and hold back a smirk as his eyes widen.

“Fuck, no. Please don’t cry. I’ll get you a stack of pancakes if you don’t cry.”

“With bacon?”

“Of course.”

“And syrup?”

His eyes narrow. “You little faker,” he says, and I can’t help but burst out laughing. He wraps his arm around my shoulders, shaking his head, and leads me toward the door. “And yes, syrup too. How can you possibly have pancakes without syrup? Come on, old man, keep up,” he calls to Greg over his shoulder.

“Call me old again, and I’ll shove my foot so far up your ass you’ll be able to lick my toes,” Greg mutters, making me giggle.

“Sounds kinky.” Oz smirks.

“Remember, there is a child present,” I tease, making Oz look down at me apologetically until he gets a look at the look on my face.

“Oh, I see how it is. I knew you were going to be trouble.” I tense at his words, my mind flashing back to Wilder and Crew’s disdain.

“Don’t worry. I know all about trouble. Trouble is my middle name,” he boasts, holding the door open for Greg and me.

“Liar. Your middle name is Zephyr,” Greg says with a smirk.

I choke down a laugh. “Your name is Oz Zephyr?”

“It’s Cosmic Zephyr, actually.” Greg laughs as Oz glares at him.

“Cosmic Zephyr? Did your parents hate you? Did you break your mother’s vagina with your giant head or something?”

“One, I do not have a giant head, and two, never mention my mother and her vagina in the same sentence again,” he bellows as the waitress approaches us.

She stops, a surprised look on her face, before she spins on her heel and takes off. Oz looks at her retreating form with confusion, which has me cracking up.

“You never learned to use your indoor voice, did you?”

He rolls his eyes and walks between me and Greg to get to a booth in the back. He slides in on one side, so I sit on the opposite side and scooch over so that Greg can ease in beside me.

I look around the place and smile. The vinyl booths, the long counter edged with chrome, and the large jukebox in the corner make me feel like I’m on the set of a movie.

“I love it here already,” I announce.

Greg looks around and smiles.

“Yeah, they renovated after Avery was shot. Took it back to its retro roots.”

“Avery was shot here?” I gasp. I knew she had hidden something from us, but I thought it was because she wanted to keep my and Bella’s involvement to a minimum.

“You didn’t know?” Oz asks, frowning, as he hands me one of the plastic-coated menus.

“No. I didn’t. She called and said things hadn’t gone as planned, but she didn’t say anything about getting shot.”

“She probably didn’t want to worry you,” Greg says, placing his hand on my knee.

“Yeah, probably,” I say softly, but I’m not sure that’s the truth. Did she ever really care about us, or were we just a job to her, a burden? Either way, if James hadn’t kidnapped her, would she have returned?

My appetite disappears at the idea of being nothing more than an afterthought.

“You know what you want?” Greg asks Oz as my mind drifts.

I dwell on the fact that Avery could have died, my mind spinning with what-ifs.

“Lara.”

I snap out of my thoughts and look at Oz, who watches me intensely.

“Still want pancakes?”

Pancakes. Something I’ve seen a million times but never actually had. All my meals were made for me. Each calorie counted and deemed healthy, so definitely no pancakes.

“Sure, Oz, pancakes sound good.”