I wrap my arms around myself. “Then how can I do that to him?”
“How can you stay and watch him kill a man for you?”
My stomach twists.
“Derby wouldn’t…”
“Yes, he would.”
The room goes silent.
There is no point pretending otherwise.
We both know it.
I think of Jeremy’s straight smile. His manicured hands. His polished voice. His ability to make every room believe I was the unstable one. I imagine Derby’s bloodied knuckles, Twila’s cuffs around his wrists. And the fact that his mom died when he stopped sleeping outside the door.
If Derby kills Jeremy, I lose him.
If Jeremy keeps living, he keeps reaching for August. If I stay, August keeps learning that the safest man is the one willing to hit hardest. If I leave, maybe I save them both.
That is the lie I need badly enough to use.
Lottie steps closer and turns her head, showing me the place behind her ear again even though her hair covers it now.
“The crown,” I say.
She nods.
“What does it mean?”
“It means a woman straightened me when I was too busy crawling through a man’s wreckage like I was the one who made it.”
The words sink in.
Slow.
Heavy.
She reaches out and touches my cheek with two fingers. Not motherly exactly. Not soft enough for that. More like blessing and warning at the same time.
“We can straighten your crown.”
“I don’t have one.”
“Every woman does. Some just got taught to carry it in their hands instead of on their head.”
I look toward the hallway again.
August is sleeping in a biker’s bed in a house that smells like cereal and rain and Derby. He has started trusting Derby. Derby has started trusting himself with August. I have started wanting a future that looks like burnt pancakes and motorcycle rides and a man who gives me keys instead of taking them.
And that is exactly why I have to leave.
Before Derby becomes the man Jeremy uses against me.
Before August watches another man he cares about get dragged away in cuffs.
Before my wanting turns into one more reason someone bleeds.