Page 7

CHAPTER 6

AURORA

TWO MONTHS LATER….

“How’s the new apartment?”

Jessa tucks her legs underneath her ass. After trying a few different psychiatrists, I never felt comfortable until I met Dr. Jessa Stark, who insisted on me calling her Jessa. When I arrived for my first appointment, she led me into her office, plopped herself down in a leather recliner, and snuggled in like we’ve known each other for years. Jessa never pushes me to talk. Even when we sit in silence, it’s never awkward. There are days when I won’t say anything. At the end of those sessions, she tells me how nice it was to see me, and she can’t wait to see me again.

I sigh. “It’s good.”

“But you hate that you had to leave your home?” she offers.

While I was recovering in the hospital, I broke down and told my dad there was no way in hell I could ever go back to my house, but I didn’t want to leave Boston either. My home was no longer my safe haven. Dad didn’t even hesitate. He sent in movers, had everything packed up, called a realtor, listed it, and set me up in a high-rise apartment close to work with top-notch security.

“Not exactly.” I shrug. “I let them win. They forced me out of the first place I bought with my own money that I could call my own.”

Jessa cups her chin and places her elbow on her knee. “I see it differently.”

“How so?”

“Yes, you moved,” she agrees. “But they didn’t win. You sitting here talking to me proves they didn’t. You’re alive, taking back your life. It will take time to feel safe again, but you will get there. Letting them win means rolling over and becoming a shell of a person.”

That’s where our opinion differs. I’m hollow. Sure, my broken ribs have healed, and the stitches have dissolved, but something inside me died when I was taken and my body was abused. I plaster on a fake smile when I need to convince the outside world I’m doing fine, but on the inside, I scream, where no one can hear me. I want to claw my way out of my body and find a new one to inhabit. This one no longer suits me. All I see is filth when I look in the mirror. The constant reminder of what happened to me is etched into my skin permanently. I can’t even wear my hair up anymore, or someone might see it and start asking questions I don’t want to answer.

“I’m going out for lunch today,” I blurt, wanting to change the subject.

Jessa raises her brows. “Is Willow dragging you out?”

My lips curve up. “No, she’s been really supportive. She spends the night when I ask her to.”

Jessa nods. “Who are you meeting?”

“My boss,” I explain. “He wants to talk about me coming back to work. I’ve put it off long enough.”

“Are you ready to go back to work?”

Aren’t you supposed to be the one telling me that?

I look at her pointedly. “I don’t know. Do you think I am?”

“That’s not something I can answer for you,” she counters. “Only you can decide if you’re comfortable and feel safe enough to attempt going back to work.”

“I guess I’ll see how lunch goes.”

“Good enough for me,” she says. “Remember, there isn’t a time frame on healing. There’s no rush.”

“My bank account would disagree with you,” I joke half-heartedly.

Jessa scowls. “There is always FMLA, and we can apply for programs to assist you financially. Has your boss been pressuring you?”

“No, not at all.” I hold up my hands in surrender. “Eventually, I have to go back to work, though. I can’t leave them hanging forever. It’s not fair to them.”

Hugh’s been a godsend through all of this. Not only did he alert my dad that I was missing within hours of my disappearance, but he held my job for me without any pressure about returning. I’m the one who reached out to him because I’m going stir-crazy sitting in my apartment alone while everyone else is at work.

“Our hour is up for today.” Jessa untangles her legs and stands. I follow suit. “Call me if you need to meet before next Wednesday. Good luck at lunch today, but remember, don’t rush yourself.”

“Thanks, Jessa.” I drape my purse over my shoulder. “I appreciate it. I’ll see ya next week.”

Before leaving the building, I spot my vehicle and slowly push the door open. I whip my head around, taking in all my surroundings before I briskly walk to my car. I climb in, lock the door, and start the engine. My phone connects to the speakers through Bluetooth, and I dial the same number I’ve dialed every week since I started seeing Jessa.

“Hi, baby girl.” Dad’s voice soothes me instantly. “How was your appointment?”

“It was good.” I put the car in drive and head toward downtown. “I’m on my way to meet Hugh for lunch now.”

“Aurora,” Dad draws out.

“Dad,” I interrupt before we have the same argument, we’ve had for the past two weeks. “I appreciate you want to help, but it’s time for me to take back my life. I’m not going to decide anything today. It’s just lunch.”

Dad sighs. “I know, but I’m your dad. I worry, it’s my job.”

“Have you heard from Jaxson?” I ask, nonchalantly.

When I woke up in the hospital, Jaxson and his team were gone. Dad explained that they had to get back to their assignments. I never did get to thank them all for rescuing me. To be honest, ever since they left, I haven’t felt safe, either. I’m always looking over my shoulder, and I’m afraid that will be my life from now on. I wish I could’ve said goodbye.

Living in a building with twenty-four hour security helps, but it doesn’t stop my fear completely. Dad wanted to hire a security team, but I fought him tooth and nail. If he knew how scared I still am, he’d probably have me locked up at Quantico with him and Vera, my stepmom.

I shudder at that thought.

“Not since the night they left,” he responds quickly.

“Oh.”

“What’s wrong?” Dad goes on full alert.

“Nothing,” I deny. “I wish I could’ve thanked them and told them goodbye.”

“When I talk to them, I’ll let them know,” he assures me. “They should be checking in soon.”

“That’d be great, thanks Dad.”

“Anytime, baby girl.”

“I’m pulling into the cafe now,” I announce.

I agreed to meet Hugh at a small cafe down the street from the office. I didn’t want to take him away from work for too long, but I also didn’t want to face anyone from work quite yet.

“Okay, text me when you get home,” he orders.

“I will,” I promise. “Love you, Dad.”

“Love you.” He disconnects the call.

When I enter the restaurant a few minutes later, Hugh is waiting for me. He stands and pulls me into a hug. I tense, and he releases me quickly.

As soon as I’m seated, the waitress rushes over to take my order. I haven’t seen Hugh since the day I was taken. We’ve spoken on the phone, but that’s all. He’s wanted to come and visit, but I’ve kept everyone but my dad and Willow at arm’s length.

“Hi,” we both say at the same time. I giggle nervously and gesture for him to continue.

“Aurora… I… I.” Hugh pauses to take a deep breath. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“No, Hugh,” I rebuff. “Nothing was your fault. I chose to do the story. It was my choice to meet with my informant alone after you insisted I take Jansen with me. The fault lies on my shoulders alone.” I reach over to grab his hand. “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be sitting here right now. Who knows how long it would've taken for anyone else to realize I was gone?”

“Doesn’t feel like it was enough.” He slams his fist on the table. “Two fucking weeks, Aurora. I thought… we all thought…”

I dip my head to hide my unshed tears because I know exactly what he’s trying to say. “I’m here because of you.”

“How are you holding up?”

This question plagues me in my dreams. The one that keeps me up at night. What’s the correct response to that, except fine? I can’t tell everyone I’m breaking. Healing is what they want to hear.

“Healing.” I paste on the same fake smile I do for everyone else. “One day at a time.”

Hugh rubs his hands together as the waitress sets down our sandwiches. Acid rises in my throat, but I swallow it down and nibble on the corner of the bread, not wanting to draw attention to my sudden change in mood.

Hugh excitedly explains all the stories they are currently covering and how happy everyone is that I’m possibly coming back to work soon.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and goosebumps erupt all over my body. I scan the restaurant for whatever set off my sixth sense. I don’t see anything out of the ordinary—normal diners enjoying lunch with family and colleagues.

Calm down. You’re in a public place with your boss in the middle of downtown Boston. You’re fine. There’s no one here stalking you. Get. A. Grip.

“Hugh, I don’t know if I’m ready to come back,” I admit. “I know that puts you in a predicament, and you might have to replace me.”

“Stop. I’m not replacing you.”

“Hugh, you have a paper to run.”

“And you’re one of my best reporters,” he argues. “I can’t lose you. What about working from home?”

“I’m not in any shape to interview anyone either,” I counter.

Hugh smirks. “What if we set you up with a pen name, and you write some articles that require research? If anyone needs to be interviewed, I can send another reporter out to get the questions answered, and they can email those to you.”

I lean back in my chair to consider his proposal. This could work. I love research, and having a pen name would keep me out of the spotlight a little longer. I could work from the comfort of my own home, behind the security of my building.

“How long would you be comfortable letting me do this, though?” I ask hesitantly.

“For as long as you need,” he answers.

I stick my hand out. “You got yourself a deal.”