She nods. “He was rich and charming and my parents loved him. They saw only the charm and the wit and the good looks. If I so much as voiced one word of complaint, both of them would tell me to be grateful for landing a man like him. Which is why I never told them. They would’ve just taken his side.”
“Freya—”
“You don’t understand, Jessa,” she says, cutting me off. “I was terrified that they would believe him and not me. I didn’t think I could handle that. So I just… left. And now, I’m here.”
“He let you go?”
She blushes. “I didn’t really ask, per se. Didn’t really tell him, you know? I left him a note. Said it was over and that I was leaving him for a fresh start somewhere else. I implied it was in England. And then I booked a flight to Los Angeles.”
“Jesus.”
She gives me a shaky laugh. “I never expected to tell that story so soon. Especially not to someone I just met.”
“You can trust me,” I say firmly.
She nods. “I know I can. And I hope you can trust me, too, Jessa. I don’t know what exactly you’ve got going on with that man, but no matter how beautiful he is—trust me, it’s not worth it.”
It’s got the ring of truth to it. If only I could remember that piece of advice the next time Anton’s hand is snaking up my thigh, his breath heating my lips, his—
I shake off the image immediately. There won’t be a next time. I’ll never let him get that close again.
It’s a promise I make to myself, but even as I make it, I feel doubt follow like a shadow.
Making a promise is one thing. Keeping it is a whole ‘nother ball game.
“I don’t want to put you in danger, Freya,” I tell her honestly. “You’ve got enough going on as it is.”
She’s the one who grabs my hand this time. “This is a dangerous world for us women. We’ve got to have each other’s backs. You can’t do everything alone.”
I smile. “You’re right about that.”
“Tell me the truth,” she says. I notice, not for the first time, what a strangely murky brown and blue her eyes are. “Are you in a similar situation to the one I just ran from?”
I’m silent, gnawing at my lip. I can’t tell her. I shouldn’t tell her. At best, it changes nothing. At worst, it puts her in just as much danger as I’m in.
But she shared her truth with me. I owe her mine.
And the light in her eyes says she will understand.
So I tell her.
“I think I told you part of this, but I was supposed to get married not too long ago…”
She listens to my whole story silently, face stoic, brows furrowed. The first time she makes a sound is when I describe the silent gunshot that broke through my little bubble of safety.
“He… he actually killed a man?” Freya asks.
“And I screamed,” I admit. “I gave myself away like an idiot.”
She strokes the back of my hand. “How could you have known?”
“He left me in the room while he dealt with whatever kinds of things he deals with. I watched his ‘clean-up’ team handle the body. And when no one was paying attention to me, I took his phone.”
Her eyes go wide. “You did what? Do you have it now? Is it—”
“It’s somewhere safe,” I say, unwilling to out Chris. “But he’s coming back tonight to collect.”
“Fuck,” Freya says, her eyes flicking from one side of the room to the other. “Fucking McFuck me, we have to do something about this.”