Page 6 of Reckless Woman
“Joseph sees it as a job, not a sport he has to win medals in.”
“Well, his bedroom skills are clearly gold, if your smug smile has anything to do with it.”
“Eve!” I toss the magazine back at her as she collapses into more laughter.
Time stops still and reverses. We could be two friends in Miami again, lying on South Beach and scraping by on fun—satisfied with just enough rent money and maybe a couple of dates that didn’t suck. Okay, so we were empty on direction back then, but we had a future that was ours to define. There was no murder, and all the other stuff that taints our souls as much as the men’s we choose to love.
But then there was no Joseph, either, and a world without my shadow is a world without light.
He never discusses his work, but I’ve seen the outline of the army barracks from a distance. I’ve seen the violent way he kills. I’ve kissed the countless scars on his body.
“I can’t remember the last time we did this,” says Eve, as if reading my thoughts. She reaches out to link her fingers through mine, bridging our two sun loungers with our history.
“Me neither,” I say, staring down at them. “Oh wait. I think it was before your psycho husband kidnapped you again. Or maybe it was before you acted like a lunatic and walked into that animal’s mansion.”
The same animal that stole me, raped me and tried to sell me as payback for what you and Dante did.
The truth stales the air like a dirty word.
Our fingers unravel.
They stirred up a hornet’s nest, and I was the one who was stung.
They set me up as bait, but the hunter outsmarted them.
“I never stopped looking for you,” she says softly, turning onto her side to face me. At eight months pregnant, it’s a slow process. “Wenever stopped looking for you…Joseph may have found you first, but I’m hoping that one day we can find each other again, too.”
“Eve—”
“Loving Dante came with consequences,” she interrupts. “I figured that. But I never thought they’d becomeourconsequences. I’m so sorry for everything that happened to you, Anna.”
“I know you are.”
Taking back her hand, I curl our fingers into one fist. We were also two girls in the same neighborhood once—sharing cuts and bruises and bicycles and hiding out under the shelter of her father’s lie.
She thinks of a past as a story. I see it as the glue in the cracks between friendships.
“I don’t blame you anymore, Eve.” It’s the truth. “I know what you did for me. I know what you sacrificed.”
I blame your husband, instead.
“How long before you’re heading back to Miami?” she asks.
“I signed up for a two-day residential at Greens starting on Monday.”
Back to reality.
Back to rehab.
For a time, I didn’t cope so well with the survivor wasteland. After my ordeal at the hands of a gang of Russian traffickers, I found myself at the mercy of a new vice—better known as a shitty drink and drug problem. I’ve been clean for nearly six months now, and I’m determined to keep it that way. For a time, that will include regular, short-term residentials at the Greens Therapy Center in Miami to keep myself on track.
“Is Joseph flying over to the States with you?”
I shoot her a combination of an eye roll and a grimace.
“Okay, stupid question...” She goes to say something else when there’s a wicked wail from the baby monitor. “Dammit. Ella’s woken up from her nap early. If I don’t rock her back to sleep, she’ll be seriously cranky for the rest of the afternoon.”
“Want me to go?”