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“I just want to thank you for everything you’ve done,” Sarah says. “But I’m… I’m leaving town. With Dallas. I need to get away because –”

Daisy nods. “Of course. But you know that you always have a job if you need one.”

“That’s so nice of you.”

“Where do you live?” She directs that question at me.

“Gold Valley,” I say as we walk across the diner and go sit in the booth.

“I have a friend who lives there. Sammy Daniels. She makes jewelry. If you need a job, Sarah, I could put in a word with Sammy. She’s pregnant, so I know she’s looking to cut her hours at the store.”

Sarah looks completely shocked by this. “I… well, that would be amazing.”

“I’ll give her a call. You’ve been amazing here, and I’m really sorry to see you go. But I get why. I just wish there was more I could do.”

“You’ve done so much for me,” Sarah says.

“I wish I could commit murder for you,” Daisy says.

We sit down in the booth, and she doesn’t even look at a menu; she just orders a standard breakfast, and I do the same.

“I’m still surprised when people take care of me like this,” she says, looking down at her hands as Daisy goes off to the kitchen to put in our order.

“You deserve it,” I say.

“You don’t really know if I deserve it. You don’t know me. Oh, we’re going to have to get my things out of my apartment.”

“What can you leave behind?”

“Most everything.”

“How about this? We’ll come back in a month or so and clear everything out, then you can get it all. But let’s not trigger Chris thinking that you’re leaving. Let’s give it some time.”

She nods. “That’s smart.”

“Just get your essentials. We’ll do that before we head to the Expo.”

We eat our breakfast, which is better than the average diner, I have to say, and say a muted goodbye to Daisy. I’m appreciative of this moment, and the fact that she understands everything needs to look as normal as possible. For Sarah’s safety.

I’m glad that she’s had a community around her that will protect her, even if law enforcement can’t or won’t.

The next stop is her apartment. I don’t know what I expected from it. But somehow it isn’t that. It’s small, above a garage in a small neighborhood. “The main house is a vacation rental,” she explains. “So, there are different people here all the time.”

“Good thing Chris didn’t figure out how to rent that place,” I say, my chest getting tight. There’s a look of horror on Sarah’s face at the suggestion.

“Yes. Very good. And I worry that he would’ve figured that out eventually.”

We head up the narrow staircase and go inside. I fight the urge to go in in front of her like it’s a cop movie, and make sure it’s all clear, but I am scanning the place as we enter, thinking about what I’d grab to use as a weapon if that asshole is in here waiting.

I don’t see anything out of the ordinary, though.

Her house is neat. Perfectly organized. Something about that makes me feel a rush of emotion. The strong kind that I’m not accustomed to feeling, but that I’ve been steeped in ever since I saw Sarah for the first time yesterday.

“You got your house,” I say.

“And he’s taking it from me,” she says softly. “I wish that I were braver, Dallas.”

“Hey,” I say, moving over to her, grabbing her shoulders and squaring her toward me.

I’m not sure if I should do that. I don’t know if I should touch her without asking, but she doesn’t shrink away from me.

“You’re brave. He’s insane. He’s a bad person, Sarah, and he’s already proved to you that he doesn’t care about hurting you.

In fact, he wants to. You can’t put anything past someone like that.

He’s the worst, most vile sort of person.

Anyone who would hurt her child, then go on to mentally torture her as an adult is someone that you should be scared of.

It’s basic survival. You and I both know survival. ”

She sighs, the sound heavy. “I just wish I didn’t have to.

I wish she could mean nothing to me. I wish that I didn’t have to carry around the weight of his sins.

But he’s… he’s fucked up my entire life.

It shaped me into who I am. And I hate that.

I can ignore it when he was imprisoned at least, but now he’s out, and it’s like he’s a ghost of my past, hunting everything that should be mine. ”

Her eyes are filled with tears, but they’re angry tears. I reach up, and I catch one with my thumb as it begins to slide down her cheek. “I can’t take that away. I never could. But I’m not a little kid anymore, either, I promise you this. If he comes anywhere near you, I’ll kill him. ”

“Dallas…”

“You think I’m kidding, but I’m not.” I look at her, and I make a vow, burn it into my heart as I speak it out loud. “I’ll kill him, and I’ll deal with the consequences later.”

Because he deserves it. The man who wounded her like this isn’t even fit to be called a man. He’s little more than an animal; people shoot rabid dogs for less, and this man should be shot just like that.

She packs up slowly, and I can see a sadness in her movements.

My heart is heavy for her.

But I realize there’s nothing I’d rather do than be here with her right now. Then try to help her carry some of the weight of this. She has a little sideboard in the corner of the room, and there’s a small picture on it. My heart jumps in my chest when I realize what it is. Us.

“Where did you get this?” I ask as I look at it. She must be ten, I’m maybe thirteen. I’m pulling the edges of my smile out as wide as possible by hooking my fingers into my cheeks, and she’s wearing a princess hat, leaning against me, smiling, eyes glittering bright.

“I think we got it after a birthday party?” She looks at me, her brows pleated, a little crease between them.

“I don’t remember.” I walk over to the sideboard and pick up the photo, pressing my fingertips over our smiles. It’s in a little circular frame with gilded edges, like a precious object, and that does something to me.

“That photo has moved with me into a lot of different apartments,” she says softly.

“I don’t have any pictures of you,” I say.

“I just have this one. I think I stole it from you when I had to go back to my mom.”

The strength of our connection feels profound in that moment. I remember the grief. The horrendous grief of losing her.

“I’m never going to lose you again,” I say.

It’s a promise.

“Well, I’m not planning on running away.”

She walks over to me and takes the picture out of my hand. Hold it against her chest. Then she carries it into her room, where her suitcase is sitting on the foot of her bed, and puts it inside. She closes the suitcase and zips it up. “I think that’s what I really need for now.”

“You’re going to move in with me,” I say.

“I am?”

I realize I haven’t explained anything to her.

“Yeah. I have a place on my dad’s property.”

She blinks. “Your dad has property?”

“I told you. He’s a veterinarian. He’s… He’s pretty well-off, actually.

” I don’t know why I feel a vague, creeping sense of shame about that.

About having money. About having things.

Except, I knew so many kids in the same situation as Sarah and I, and they didn’t get this kind of hand up in life that I got.

And what have I done for anybody? This is the first thing.

The first opportunity that I’ve had to do something meaningful with the gift that I received being taken in by Bennett Dodge.

“I am so thankful for you,” she says. I feel like that’s not even a thing for her to say. She shouldn’t have to be grateful to be taken care of.

But life’s not fair. Life’s not fair . I’ve been given this gift, this gift of a family, and she hasn’t been given anything. That really isn’t fair.

Sometimes I think I have survivor’s guilt.

That I get mad about that, because why should the survivor get the luxury of guilt ?

I shove all that to the side, and I go into the bedroom and take her suitcase for her. I don’t even let her start to protest, and we lock the apartment back up and head to my truck.

“After tonight’s event, we’re driving to Gold Valley. It’s a little bit of a haul. But we just need to get out of here.”

She nods. “I just want to go home with you.”