“Liza,” Kenna called.
She didn’t want to involve her, truly. But the possibility that her sisters may not hear anything for weeks in the event of her untimely death was one she could not stomach.
Liza glanced between her and the duffel bag. “Need help packing for your romantic getaway?”
“No,” she said softly. Kenna sat on the bed and gestured to the empty space before her. “Will you sit, please? I need to talk to you.”
She complied. “Should I be worried?”
“That’s up to you, I suppose.”
Liza quirked a brow.
For a beat, Kenna wondered whether dragging Liza into things was a good idea. They weren’t nearly as close as she and Alex had been. Then of course, they hadn’t told each other everything, either.
“Can I trust you?”
“Of course.”
“Look, I haven’t been honest with you.”
“How so?”
“The day in the bookstore when you asked me if the rumors were true, I lied. And no, not everything they’re saying is true, but I did sleep with him.”
“Ace.”
It was a quiet disappointment. No anger.
“There’s more.” Kenna tucked her knees to her chest. “He’s who I’ve been working for in East Haven. He has a private practice there.” She siphoned a deep breath that burned her lungs. “The guy who was over before? That was him. Dr. Merino.”
“Well, it’s not so hard to see why you slept with him, then. Mysterious and broody, remember?”
Tears welling, she shook her head. “There’s another side to him, Liza, and I decided to tell you all of this because I’m leaving in the morning and … there’s a chance I won’t come back. I wanted someone to know who I left with.”
Now Liza was the one shaking her head.
“If you’re in that much trouble,” her eyes went wild, “if you think he’s going tohurtyou? It would be stupid to go.”
“It’s not a question of if.” Kenna spoke through gritted teeth, fearing that there was no other way to rid herself of the damned words. “I’m going.”
She had to understand him, his behavior.
Even if it killed her.
19
EUGENE
Dayton breathed a sigh of relief when Wednesday morning rolled around and he stood on the mat outside Kenna’s apartment. Reynolds had not sought him out for further follow-up questions. No phone call or impromptu visit. It made him hopeful that he and Kenna could, eventually, move on from this.
Sure, it would take some time for her to get over—what she referred to as negligence on his part—the loss of Lacey when they had a small window to intervene.
But Kenna hadn’t pulled back enough to see all of the details. That window was in disrepair. Smudged fingerprints on the interior. The girl tried to let herself out, for how long? There were splinters in the glass, shards missing in some places from the many people who’d wanted to help her escape. She had been a prisoner to that cycle: wanting to free herself, the doubt that ensued, seeking help from others but then realizing it was only the concept of being rescued that she liked.
Kenna may not have recognized it, but he did.
The silent tug-of-war in Lacey’s eyes before she stormed out of his university office.