She nodded tightly. “I know. And here I am, just another fool in the room, wishing I had the love of someone in love with someone else. Stupid, right?”
“She doesn’t love him.” He was only concerned with Scout’s feelings.
“How do you know?”
“I don’t, but I know if she falls in love with him it’s a mistake.”
She sat quietly for several long moments. It was too late to go to Scout tonight, so he let Sherry have this time. No sense in rushing her off.
“Will I ever see you again?”
“I . . . I don’t know. If my plans go accordingly . . . no.”
She gave a sad laugh and wiped her eyes. “I never should have agreed to help you. I never should have let things go this far.”
Wanting to comfort her, he tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “You knew what this was, Sherry. Was it so bad, letting a guy be nice to you for a few months?”
Her head shook. “No, but going back to men who see me as only a vessel will make every other encounter from here on out so much harder. Every time I let a stranger touch me I’ll think, Parker didn’t just touch me, he made me feel. Parker didn’t just look at my body, he saw me. Parker didn’t just fuck me. He made love to me. I’ve never had that before and I’ll never have that again.”
That wasn’t necessarily true. When he looked at her he searched for someone else, and when he made love to her, it wasn’t her he was holding. “I’m sorry.”
She sniffled. “I should go.”
“Will you be okay?”
“I’ll be fine.”
He didn’t know if she was being honest or brave, but he had his own problems to worry about. He had to save Scout. Saving Sherry wasn’t on the agenda. “You know you can call me at the office if you ever need anything.”
“What I need you aren’t willing to offer, Mr. Hughes.”
“I never led you to believe this was anything more.”
She nodded and stood. “And I suppose that should make it all right. Pardon me if I find it cold comfort in the face of reality.”
Guilt pinched at his nerves. He shoved those emotions away. He’d spent ten years on the street, held his mother while she died crying about the injustice of it all. There were plenty of sad cases on every corner. Sherry’s sad life wasn’t his fault. “You offered a service and I paid you for it.”
Her face fell and all her color drained. Perhaps his words were a little too honest for her to cope with at the moment.
She stood. “Wow. I don’t know what’s more frightening, the idea of that man getting his claws into you or the idea that you may actually deserve whatever he does. Whoever you are, you’re not the man I thought you were. Good-bye.”
He stood as well. “Wait.” She paused by the door, but didn’t turn around. “I owe you money.”
Her back stiffened. “Parker Hughes, if you dare hand me a dollar right now I’m afraid of what will happen. Enjoy your life. Send my best to the poor girl you’re after.” She opened the door and shut it without a second glance.
Part VIII
Scout
Chapter 22
Walls
She was definitely under some form of paralysis. If she knew how to move, she would get up and find a phone, then perhaps try to call Dr. Sheffield, but she couldn’t. So she lay there and continued to cry.
Under a ceiling of untouchable stars, she lay with no walls holding her in. Something was holding her physical body together. Her mind had unhinged many days ago. She was floating, lost somewhere between two names, and neither one told her who to be.
It was evening and the sun had set. Her fuzzy mind worked to count the days. The first night she’d slept on the floor by the door. The second night she moved to the couch. The third she stared at the pristine bed awaiting her tired body but was too afraid to touch it.
Days were lost to sleep and nights were filled with anxious need to do something. So tired. Waking hurt, and she dreaded the moments before her conscience roused her physical body. All she wanted to do was sleep.
Seeing the thought he had put into her apartment was agony. The walls she had envied all of her life were suddenly suffocating her. She needed to get out.
She’d taken to sleeping on the balcony. It was cold, but she wasn’t as claustrophobic under the blanket of sky. Walls. She hated those fucking walls.
It was day eight, she believed. Eight long, lonely days and she wasn’t quite dead yet. She’d formed an addiction to sadness. When her mind slipped away and took a reprieve from the desolate introspection of her life, she felt its absence. Interestingly enough, Scout realized, even when she’d been one of several, sleeping on a mat on the floor of an overcrowded shelter, she was never really a part of anything.