“Only way staying means anything.”
Everything in me goes quiet.
The rain. The porch. Wildcat. August. The truck. The bulletin in my pocket. Jeremy’s shadow. Pearly Gates. All of it pulls back for one clean second.
Only way staying means anything.
Jeremy hid my keys once.
Not forever. Not dramatic enough for a police report. Just one afternoon after an argument, when I said I needed air. He moved them. Let me search. Let me panic. Then found them in his jacket like I was silly, forgetful, emotional.
He told me I could leave whenever I wanted.
He just made sure I understood leaving depended on him giving me the means.
Derby puts the means in my hand.
And it scares me worse.
Because a cage, at least, tells you what it is.
Choice opens the door and asks who you are without walls.
My fingers close around the keys.
August jumps beside me. “We can drive?”
“Not right now,” I say, voice thick.
Derby looks at me. “But you can.”
I lift my eyes.
He means it.
God help me, he means it.
Behind him, Widowmaker sits black and wet in the drive. Behind me, his house holds cereal, dinosaur sheets, and the smell of burnt pancakes. My son’s hand is in mine. My truck keys are in my palm. A dangerous man stands in front of me, giving me an exit instead of asking me to prove I won’t use it.
Jeremy locked every door and called it love.
Derby puts the keys in my hand and scares me worse.
Because for the first time, staying might be my choice.
Chapter Fourteen
Derby
The problem with giving a woman keys is that she might use them.
I know that’s the damn point.
I know it because I said it. Stood in my driveway with Wildcat’s grease still on the truck and put those keys right in Amelia’s hand like I was some enlightened bastard who understood freedom, choice, and all the other words Sophie likes to throw at men until we accidentally grow.
Only way staying means anything.
Sounded good when I said it.