I’d developed a sixth sense after the car accident.
The ability to recognize catastrophe before it hit.
I sensed it with Farrow’s family confrontation. And I sensed it now, driving her home as she gazed out the windshield, lost in her own thoughts.
The stench of goodbye hung in the air like cheap perfume. According to the terms of our agreement, this was over. Done and finished.
I could touch human flesh.
Farrow sorted out her family issues.
The lawyers would wrap the rest up in a neat bow.
And still, neither of us dared to broach the subject.
Fuck it.
I swerved, pulling over just before we hit Dark Prince Road. She didn’t react, still studying the tree line in silence.
“Farrow.”
Still nothing.
I unbuckled my seatbelt, hopped out of the car, and rounded to her side, swinging open the door. She stared at my shoulder, not really focused on anything, giving me my second heart attack of the night.
The first happened at the sight of Andras manhandling her. If Ollie and Rom hadn’t pulled me off him, I’d be in a cell right now, and he’d be in a morgue.
Finally, finally, she peered up at me as I gathered her into my arms and moved us both to the spacious trunk, flipping the rear seat down until it turned into a flat cabin.
“What’s going on in that head of yours, Octi?”
“Nothing good.”
“Impossible.” I set her down, switching on the overhead light. “Where does it hurt?”
“Everywhere.”
Hovered over her, I thumbed her shoulder, ever so slightly, right where I saw Andras grip her. “Here?”
A tiny, reluctant tear leaked out, trudging down her cheek. She didn’t sob. Didn’t make a sound. Just nodded.
I leaned in, kissing the exact spot. She shut her eyes as I rolled my tongue over it, wiping away any trace of that bastard.
I traced the nape of her neck, where it slammed against the wall. “And here?”
“My elbow, too.”
She stared at the roof as I washed away Andras’ touch from her neck, her hip, her back, the crook of her elbow.
All the while, she didn’t say another word.
“Beautiful.” When I finished, I pulled back and simply stared at her as she sprawled across the trunk, her wild sunshine hair splayed in every direction. “So fucking beautiful.”
Farrow’s fingers marked a path on the nylon lining. “What do you think about Monowi?”
“Never heard of it.”
“It’s in Nebraska.”
“Sounds about right.”
“Population of one.”
“Where are you going with this?”
Please, don’t say Monowi.
“Just thinking of Monowi.”
I wanted to laugh. Maybe even scream. Definitely go for round two versus Andras.
Farrow and I had so much to talk about, and we’d settled on Monowi.
She still never told me whatever she needed to about Eileen. I still hadn’t asked about our future.
Except, instinct—along with the remaining cells in my brain that hadn’t been fried by Andras-induced rage—told me the conversation would go differently this time than if we’d had it on the plane before completing our arrangement.
Farrow rested a hand on her ribs. “I couldn’t have beaten Andras and Vera without you.”
I plopped down on my ass and stretched my legs out as much as I could, setting Farrow’s thighs on them. “You would’ve.”
“No, I wouldn’t have. Vera pointed it out. At the time, I told her I could fight my own wars. But I was wrong.”
“You were right. You’ve been a fighter all your life.”
“Maybe. But I also relied on my dad without realizing it.” Her eyes found mine. “He cashed out his savings to fund my fencing career. A fencing career that no longer exists.”
“Public opinion shifted to your side. Your academy friends spoke to the media about the circumstances. Once news breaks about Vera and Andras, no way will anyone hold you accountable for throwing an unimportant match.”
“They should, though. I was wrong for it.”
“If you want to quit, quit. Sometimes quitting is braver than persisting.” I tipped her chin up, forcing her to look at me. “But if you’re quitting because you’re afraid of what others think, that’s bullshit, and you’re stronger than that, Farrow Ballantine.”
“I’m not quitting. Well, I don’t know yet.” She sighed, pulling at the fuzzy nylon threads on the trunk flooring. “I guess my point is, I thought I was independent, living on my own, fighting Vera my own way. In reality, I had Dad’s help—more than I thought I did—and yours.”
Ask me for help, Farrow.
You’re not alone.
I’m your one-man army.
Before I could reply, she sat up, dusting off her hands. “Can we head home?”
I studied her face, unable to get a read of her and hating it. “Of course.”
“I think it’s time to finish our Go game.”
