Total pages in book: 187
Estimated words: 174623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
"That makes sense."
"And if they buy something made by one of the women here, maybe they hang it up. Maybe someone asks about it. Maybe a conversation starts that wouldn't have otherwise."
I don't contradict her or explain what I know from my own experiences. Maybe the people here are different. I don't anticipate uber-rich people coming to an outdoor event like this, so maybe my judgment is skewed.
"And maybe someone who needs help hears that conversation," I offer instead.
"Exactly," she says, pointing at me as if I've just answered a question correctly in class.
I smile despite myself.
"What about the residents?" I ask. "Are they going?"
Her expression shifts, not in a bad way, but in the careful way she uses when the answer isn't straightforward. "Staff only."
"Oh."
"It's not because we don't want them there," she says quickly. "It isn't because they don't deserve a day in the park. They do. God, they do, especially the kids, but this is the first year we're doing anything this public, and I don't want to risk anyone's safety."
I nod because I understand that better than most. I fear for my own safety, but I wasn't lying when I told Nyx earlier that I wanted to get back to whatever normal looks like for me.
"Some of the women wanted to help with prep," she says. "We've had painting supplies out, fabric, yarn, cross-stitch kits, things like that. Traci was working on a few projects, but I think that has slowed since she hasn't been feeling well. We have completed projects from women who have been here prior."
"That's amazing," I say.
I had seen Traci doing some cross-stitch things, but I just figured she enjoyed the craft.
"Will their work be in the auction?" I ask.
"If they want it to be. Names won't be attached unless they request it, of course."
"That's good."
"It is," she agrees. "And I want you to decide something."
The words make my stomach tighten. I'm better at having a task list than making my own choices.
"Decide what?"
"Whether you want to go tomorrow or stay here."
"Oh," I say, not expecting to even have the option.
I stare at her, not because the question is complicated, but because of everything that comes with it.
She's silent as she waits for my answer.
I fold my hands in my lap and look down at them.
My first instinct is to say I'll stay here rather than go.
I had presumed my attendance was expected, but things have happened since it was first mentioned during my interview, and it has changed the situation for me.
The shelter feels safer than a public park. There are walls here. Locks. Cameras. Men outside who know exactly what they're looking for if a threat arises.
A park has too many directions.
Too many people.
Too many places someone could stand and watch.
Graham could blend in with a crowd, or he could send someone else that I wouldn't recognize as a danger to me until it was too late.
The fear is so familiar that it almost feels like a voice of reason, the same whisper that has kept me moving all these years in order to stay safe.
But then I think of Nyx, and his promise to keep me safe no matter what my choices are.
I feel like staying scared has kept me safe all these years, but then I remind myself of the exhaustion that has come along with it.
It has kept me stuck in this vicious cycle of always looking over my shoulder, of trusting no one, and honestly, I've been miserable.
"My ex has already stolen enough from me," I whisper before I realize I've spoken the words out loud.
I look up at her from my tangled fingers.
Victoria doesn't react with pity. She only nods once in understanding.
"He has," she says.
"I don't know if I can go. I want to say yes, but I don't know."
"You don't have to decide right now."
"Will Cerberus be there?" I ask, wanting all the information so I can make an informed choice.
"In full force," she says without hesitation. "Not just casually present. Not one or two men wandering around pretending everything is fine. They have an entire security plan. It was one of the very first things we had to work through before they would give the thumbs up to this project."
The tension that had been building inside me loosens a bit.
"And here?" I ask. "If most of the staff is at the park?"
"Here, too. No one will be left unprotected," she assures me. "Not the residents. Not the children. No one."
A soft knock at the office door draws our attention.
Dana stands there with both kids beside her.
"Sorry," Dana says. "They wanted to ask about the paints."
"The paints?" Victoria asks.
"Miss Beth told us last week that there were paints for pictures, but Dean said we probably weren't allowed because he always says stuff like that," she says with her eyes pointed at her little brother.