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He snorted. “I presumed you had other plans.”
Silence stretched between them. Outside, there was the clang of lockers slamming shut, the squeak of sneakers over the shiny hallway floor. But in the room, it felt like the whole universe revolved around just the two of them. And that universe was about to dissolve, disappear, before she’d even gotten to understand it.
“Wh-what?” she managed. Then she realized. “Lucas is only a friend—”
Mr. Sawyer looked right at her then, raising a palm in a clear signal to stop. “Listen, you can associate with whoever you want. But if you’re going to be a whore, I can’t waste my time on you.”
The words hit Jocelyn like a sucker punch to the gut. Tears sprang to her eyes, hot and burning. “I—I won’t see him anymore. I swear.”
“We’ve had this conversation once already.” Mr. Sawyer brushed by her, and she nearly smacked into the wall.
“Wait—”
He huffed a sigh, came to a stop. “What, Jocelyn?”
“I won’t see him anymore. Really. You’re the only person I want to see, the only person that matters.”
He turned ever so slightly, giving her a searching look. Overhead, the bell rang, signaling the next period starting, and Mr. Sawyer looked deep into her eyes before shaking his head and exhaling. He yanked his wallet out and pressed bills into her hand.
“Tomorrow night. Last chance. But you’ll have to get the room. The kid in the office is a former student of mine. He recognized me, and I can’t be seen getting a room again. I told him I was having work done at my house, but I can’t be getting the keyall the time.”
Jocelyn accepted the money, eyes wide. “But I’m not eighteen yet.”
“They don’t care. They don’t ask for ID at that shithole. Room 212. Got it?”
She swallowed. “Okay.”
“And don’t use your real name.”
She opened and closed her mouth, searching for words. She felt relieved he was talking to her, still wanted to meet with her—but also, she was getting the room? The idea of going in the lobby, of beingfound out—a cold sweat broke over her, just thinking about it. “What name should I use?”
“Jocelyn Burton.”
“Okay. Why that name?”
Mr. Sawyer lifted his bag onto his shoulder. “It was my mother’s name, her maiden name was Burton.” He looked away, strolled to the classroom door, then paused to turn back. “And, Jocelyn, there will be punishment.” He gave her a long look. “Don’t come if you don’t want it.”
CHAPTER
27
I’m starting to look like my mother.
The thought stabs at my heart. I grab the concealer I’ve just put on and apply a second, thicker layer under my heavy-lidded eyes. It cakes into the fine lines, emphasizing instead of hiding the creases. I should’ve iced the swelling before attempting makeup, but I didn’t have the energy when I dragged myself out of bed after another sleepless night. It’s been almost three days since I’ve slept anything more than a fifteen-minute catnap. Every time I shut my eyes and start to drift off, memories flood back. Bits and pieces. Flashes of moments. Like me kneeling in front of Mr. Sawyer inthatroom and him backhanding me across the face. Hard. Not even the sleeping pills have helped. Lord knows I’ve taken a handful over the last forty-eight hours.
I just can’t wrap my mind around so much. I’ve written everything down in a notebook—trying to gather all the puzzle pieces before I can attempt to solve it. The memories. The clues I’ve missed. All of which make sense now—how Jocelyn didn’t come up in a search, why my recollection of the details in that motel room were so vivid, Lucas telling me he hated how we’d lost touch in senior year. Yetnothingmakes sense.
Except maybe my dating habits for the lasttwenty years—why I never wanted a man for more than sex, why I couldn’t bring myself to have a relationship with even the nicest guy. I’d always been proud of my independence, never stopped to thinkwhyit was so important to me. Now I question whether I was being strong and independent or if I wasafraid—afraid to trust a man.
My cell rings from the other room, and I toss the makeup onto the bathroom counter and rush to grab it. I’m waiting for a call.
“Hello?”
“Hi. May I speak to Elizabeth Davis, please?”
“This is she.”
“This is Emma from Dr. Sterling’s office. I’m returning your call.”