“Morgan, where are you?”
Surprisingly, she didn’t hesitate when she rattled off her sister’s building name and room number, and as soon as I got off the phone I headed in that direction. Bend is a growing town, but it isn’t very big. However, it’s pretty spread out. It took me about twenty minutes to get to the university’s campus, but only five to find Miranda’s building and charm my way inside.
Their security was shit. All I’d had to do was ask someone to hold the door for me as I’d pretended to look for something in my pockets, and I’d been let inside without a thought. I knew most colleges were that way. I’d visited Kate at school years ago and it had been the same in her dorm building, and it had bothered me then just as much as it bothered me now.
I found Miranda’s room easily, and before I’d even knocked I could hear Etta chattering inside.
“Who are you?” a girl who looked almost exactly like Morgan asked as soon as she answered the door. Her hair was cut short on the sides and she had an eyebrow ring. She also had puffy dark half-circles under her eyes.
“Twevo!” Etta yelled, running past Miranda. “You heah!”
“Hey, baby girl,” I responded, swinging her up as she reached me. “I missed you.”
“Me missed you!” she tightened her arms around my neck and pressed her cheek to mine as I met Miranda’s eyes.
“I should have known she’d call you,” she said in resignation. “Come on in.”
The room was small, but tidy. There was a desk and chair, a bed, and a tall dresser, but nothing that shouted someone with a personality actually lived there. Everything was—blank. Like a clean slate.
“I’m not much of a decorator,” Miranda said with a shrug when she noticed my perusal.
“Me either,” I confessed. “But I’m pretty sure I’m better at it than you.”
Miranda smiled, but I didn’t get the chuckle I was hoping for. Instead, she glanced at the woman lying with her back to us, her body wrapped in a sweater on top of a bare mattress.
“Morgan just finally passed out,” she said quietly. “She was up all night.”
“Did you get some sleep?” I asked gently, staying where I was by the door.
I was a big man, and I’d been a big man since I was about sixteen years old. And in that small dorm room, with a girl who’d just been terrorized and couldn’t even remember it, I probably seemed even bigger. I wasn’t about to move any closer.
“I got some,” she answered, smiling wanly. “Probably still dealing with some aftereffects.”
She said it so calmly that I had a hard time controlling my expression.
“You should tell someone,” I said, leaning over to set Etta on the floor when she started to wiggle.
“Who?” Miranda asked, shrugging one shoulder. “The police? I don’t know anything. I can’t even remember what happened after I walked out that door.” She pointed to the door at my back. “I’m pretty sure I waited too long for any blood test to tell us what I took, and I’m sure as hell not letting any doctor feel me up in the off chance that they’ll find a hair that’s not mine.”
“You have a pretty cynical view of the system,” I replied calmly.
“Oh, come on, man,” she replied with a scoff. “You know it’s true. Plus, you know what everyone will think. That girl shouldn’t have gone out alone. She should have been more careful. Why does she think we can help her, when she doesn’t have any fucking clue what happened? Maybe she’s making it up. Maybe she drank too much and now she’s trying to play it off like she doesn’t remember.”
“Bullshit,” I said, finally cutting off her diatribe. “I haven’t thought a single one of those things.”
“You’re not a cop.”
“Why the fuck does that matter?”
“Because, it does,” she ground out. “Cops look at women like me, and they see trash.”
“No one could look at you and see trash,” I countered, shaking my head. “Not a single person.”
“Oh, yeah?” she said. “You know how many times my social worker looked the other way when I was in the system? Do you know how many times I called the cops that year and they looked the other way?”
“Cops are just like any other group of people,” I argued. I knew that as much as anyone. It sucked but it was the truth. “You’ve got bad ones and good ones. Shitbags and heroes.”
“It doesn’t even matter,” she said, her voice strained. “It happened and now it’s over. Someone drugged me and I lost a few hours of time that I can’t get back. The end.”
“Is that all they did?” I asked gently, absently jiggling my toes up and down as Etta sat on my foot, bouncing her up and down on the floor.
“Yes,” Miranda answered flatly.
“It’s none of my business,” I said.
“No it’s not.”
“But if anything else happened—”
“It didn’t.”
“You need to go to a clinic,” I continued, ignoring her denial. “You need to get checked and you need a morning-after pill, and anything else they can give you.”
“Nothing happened,” she said again.
“Okay,” I replied, tipping my head down in concession. “But if you’re not sure, you need to go in.”
“I’m sure.”
“Okay,” I said again.
“I have to pee,” she said, ending the conversation. “And you can come out of the doorway.”
She walked to the connected bathroom and shut herself inside, but I didn’t move. Something had happened that she wasn’t willing to admit, but it wasn’t my job to make her face it. What had happened was something I’d never deal with or be able to understand.
“Thank you,” Morgan whispered as she rolled over, tears running down her cheeks as she faced me. “I didn’t even think of that.” She shuddered with a silent sob. “She needs to see a doctor.”
“Don’t know if she’ll agree to it,” I murmured back, keeping my voice low.
“She will,” Morgan said, wiping at her face as she sat up. “She’s been listening to me since she was born—that’s not stopping today.”
My lips twitched, but I didn’t reply. Miranda seemed pretty fucking similar to her older sister, and I couldn’t imagine anyone talking either of them into doing something they didn’t want. I guessed if anyone could make Miranda do something, though, it would be Morgan, and vice versa.
I watched the woman I’d been thinking of and missing get up off the bed and straighten her shoulders before smiling widely at Etta. Then, as she stepped toward me and wrapped her arms around my waist, resting her forehead against my chest, I knew with absolute certainty that I loved her.
Just like that, I knew. I loved her like I’d never loved anyone else. I loved her in a way that I knew wouldn’t go away.
I loved her strength and her compassion and her understanding. I loved the way she became a lioness when it came to her family. I loved the way she could muster up a smile for her baby even in the tensest circumstances. I loved that she’d apologized when she knew she’d done something wrong. I loved that she was stubborn and a little guarded. I loved the way her fine hair got stuck in my beard, and the feeling as she pulled away and the strands tickled my chin. I loved the way she fit me. And more than anything, I loved that when she’d needed me, she’d called, trusting that I’d be there even after the way shit had ended the last time we’d seen each other.
But Jesus, what a terrible time to realize that I was in love with her.
The door opened, and as soon as Morgan spun out of my arms, Miranda walked out, her hands raised in surrender.
“You’re right,” she said, moving slowly toward her dresser. “I need to go to a doctor.”
“I’ll go with you,” Morgan said, grabbing her bag off the floor. “Just let me get changed and I’ll make an appointment.”
“Do I need one?” Morgan asked, pausing with her hands inside one of her dresser drawers.
“It doesn’t matte
r,” Morgan answered reassuringly. “I’ll get you in to see someone today.”
Miranda’s relief at her sister’s words was almost a physical presence in the room. It was clear that she trusted Morgan’s word implicitly. If her older sister said she’d do something, she would. End of story.
Henry had felt that way about me. He’d trusted Shane, too, but their relationship had been very different. I’d been Henry’s protector. I’d been the one to double-knot his shoes before school and give him a piggy-back ride when he fell and hurt himself. I’d been the one to keep the monsters at bay when he hadn’t wanted to wake our parents up after a nightmare. I had no fucking clue why he hadn’t felt comfortable telling me about Etta, but goddamn it broke my heart.
I quietly played with Etta while Miranda got dressed and Morgan called the local women’s clinic. I was pretty sure that the campus had their own clinic, but according to Morgan’s mumbling, they were useless. I didn’t bother to ask why. The woman was on a mission and within fifteen minutes she had an appointment made for her little sister.
“I’m not sure how—” Morgan said to me, her words sliding to a halt as she grimaced.
“How about I just ride with you?” I said, wishing I could reach out and slide my hand over her hair, but knowing, as she fidgeted and paced, that it wasn’t the right time for that. “I’ll keep Etta while you ladies go in.”
“Ladies is a stretch,” Miranda said drily as she came out of the bathroom. She was still wearing the shirt she’d had on before, but had pulled on a different hoodie and pair of jeans.
“Is that okay with you?” Morgan asked her as she picked up Etta’s diaper bag. “If Trevor comes along?”
“Fine with me,” Miranda replied with a shrug.
I stepped into the hallway first. Morgan had Etta in her arms and was close behind me. But it took only a few seconds to realize that Miranda hadn’t followed.
We both looked back to see what the holdup was, and my entire body grew tight as I witnessed Miranda’s eyes fill with terror. She froze. Her entire body, from her eyelashes to her fingertips, went completely still as she reached the threshold to her room.
“Ranna?” Morgan called softly.
Miranda’s chest started to heave visibly beneath her baggy sweatshirt, and I took a slight step forward because I wasn’t completely sure that she was going to stay upright.
“Need a second,” Miranda rasped, trying to control her breathing.
“Take as long as you want,” Morgan replied instantly.
We stood there watching Miranda calm herself down until I couldn’t take another second of her clenched teeth and fisted hands.
“Miranda,” I murmured, taking another step forward.
“What?” she said quickly, her embarrassment clear.
“I’m a big guy, yeah?”
“So?”
“You want to come out of there,” I said, nodding to her bedroom. “You can. No one’s going to even look at you while I’m here.”
She glanced down the hallway in both directions, but still didn’t step through the door. Etta chattered to Morgan and wriggled a little to get down, but Miranda still didn’t move. My phone chimed with an incoming text message that I ignored, but still Miranda didn’t even twitch.
Then, without warning, she stepped forward and pulled the door closed behind her. Moving swiftly, she came close to my side, then flinched when I moved to put my arm around her shoulders.
“Don’t,” she blurted. “Don’t touch me, okay?”
“No problem,” I said easily, but inside I was trying not to completely lose it.
Miranda and I followed Morgan downstairs, side by side but carefully not touching. It was sprinkling rain outside, and we hurried to Morgan’s car as Miranda pulled her hood up over her head.
“I’ll sit in the back,” Miranda said, climbing in before I could protest.
I wasn’t sure how I’d fit in the back of that car, but I would have at least offered to. I watched as Morgan buckled Etta into her seat, reaching past her to touch Miranda’s knee before leaning back out of the car.
“Can you drive?” Morgan asked, speaking up for the first time since we’d stood waiting for Miranda to leave her room. “I’ll navigate.”
“Sure.” I walked around the car and met her at the back, but the minute I reached for her she shook her head.
“If you touch me, I’ll lose it,” she said shakily, tossing me her keys. “I’m hanging on by a thread here.”
“You’re doing good,” I replied, holding her gaze.
“I’m trying. Fuck.”
“Sometimes a real curse word goes a long way, huh?” I replied, a little relieved when my comment made her lips twitch, just a fraction.
“Sometimes,” she agreed.
It took us only fifteen minutes to reach the clinic, but Miranda’s appointment lasted two hours. By the time Morgan led her pale-faced sister outside to meet us, Etta was fussing and I was pacing the small patch of grass we’d commandeered as our own. I had no idea what would take so long, but knew it wasn’t anything good.
“Let’s go,” Morgan said, ushering her sister straight to the car.
“Come on, sweet thing,” I said to Etta, picking up our stuff as I hurried after her mother.
Without any direction, I drove us back to Miranda’s dorm building. The two women in the car were completely silent until I put the car in park. Then, when I was about to climb out of the driver’s seat, Miranda finally spoke.
“I’m not going back in there,” she said firmly, staring out her window in the backseat.
I let my hand fall from the keys in the ignition and waited for Morgan to respond.
“Okay,” she said, slowly. “Okay.”
We sat there in silence for a few more minutes. I kept my mouth shut as they contemplated our next move, and barely moved as Morgan’s hand settled on mine.
“I’ll go grab your stuff,” she said, turning toward the backseat. “You have garbage bags?”
“In the bottom of the can,” Miranda replied dully.
“Okay, I’ll be right back.”
My hand tightened on Morgan’s as she tried to pull away.
“I’ll come with you.”
When neither sister argued, I nodded and climbed out of the car. We waited until Miranda had locked the doors behind us, then trudged inside the building. I didn’t know how Morgan felt, but after Miranda’s long-ass doctor appointment, her dorm room seemed almost sinister. I’d known something bad had gone down there, but now that my thoughts had been confirmed, the place made my skin crawl.
I could barely restrain myself from stopping every guy I saw, just to look closely at his face. Was that guy the one? The dude in the blue sweatshirt? What about the gray jacket? Was he the douche bag?
I was looking at every face, searching for guilt.
“My sister doesn’t have much stuff,” Morgan said as she pushed resolutely into the small room.
She went straight to the garbage can in the corner and pulled the trash bag out of it. Underneath were four more unused bags that she tossed onto the bed.
“I’m going to do her clothes first, then the desk.”
“I can do the desk,” I replied, grabbing a trash bag. “Should I leave anything?”
“No.” She cleared her throat. “No, she’s not coming back.”
I stopped and watched as Morgan angrily opened the top drawer, almost pulling it completely out of the dresser.
“She’s never coming back to this place,” she hissed, snatching out handfuls of clothes and stuffing them into the garbage bag in her other hand.
“Sweetheart,” I said softly, trying to calm her.
“I can’t,” she said, shaking her head and refusing to turn toward me. “I need to get her stuff out of here. I need to get out of here.”
“Okay,” I replied, clenching my jaw. I wanted to wrap my arms around her and force her to take a second, but I didn’t. Instead, I turned toward the desk and quick
ly removed the notebooks, pens, and random school shit. It ended up being really heavy and I had to double-bag it, but thankfully Miranda really didn’t have much.
All of her personal items filled only three garbage bags.
“Just a sec,” Morgan said, walking into the bathroom. She came out only a few seconds later with a small makeup bag in her hand. “I’ll replace the rest of it,” she murmured, shaking her head.
Then I was lifting the bags from the floor and following her out of the room. A few people watched as we moved through the common areas, but no one said a word as we carried Miranda’s things out of the dorm. Not one person asked who we were or why we were stealing bags of shit from one of their schoolmates. It was the weirdest fucking thing.
“Trunk,” Morgan said, opening it up so I could put Miranda’s things back there. As soon as I’d dropped them in, her head drooped forward. “Jesus.”
I wasn’t sure if it was a prayer or an exclamation. Maybe it was both.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” I said, reaching up to cup the side of her face.
“I don’t even know where to go,” she said with a watery laugh. “I need to get a hotel room or something.”
“I’ve got one,” I replied, sliding my hand down to squeeze the back of her neck gently. She seemed so brittle, standing there, that I was afraid to touch her anywhere else.
“Okay. Where are you parked?”
We agreed that she’d follow me back to my hotel, and I left as soon as she’d climbed into the driver’s seat. As I passed the car, I glanced inside the backseat and saw Miranda leaned against Etta’s seat. The baby was sleeping peacefully, and Miranda was holding her hand. It was as if she’d needed that connection, even though Etta was completely passed out beside her.
When I climbed into my truck, my phone chimed again.
The message I’d ignored earlier was from Katie, and I ignored it again. The most recent message was from Morgan.
Hotel won’t work. Miranda refuses to stay anywhere near here. Thanks anyway.
I sighed and brushed a hand over my face, smoothing down my beard.
Makes sense. My house?
I sent the text, not expecting an agreement, so when the reply came, I was shocked.