Page 71 of Lace 'em Up

Keep it locked up in a tiny wooden box, safe and sound and tucked away.

“I need to go,” I whisper.

“Princess,” he begins.

But I don’t sit in that endearment, don’t allow myself to feel it, and I don’t stay.

I just turn for the hall, shove my feet into my Crocs—Crocs King bought me so I’d have something comfortable to wear after he’d hidden my heels. Crocs that are gentle on the mostly healed wounds on the bottoms of my feet.

Crocs that made me think I could be something different, just for a little while.

But…it’s fake.

It’s not for me.

It’s—

Go. Now.

My purse is on the table, my keys easily accessible in the front pocket.

I have them out and in my hands a moment later, am turning the knob to open the door when I sense King behind me.

“Rory,” he begins, but I put my hand up.

“I need to go.”

Zeus is in his arms, eyes wide and sad and guilty, sending my heart thrumming, guilt churning anew in my belly.

But I don’t feel that as much as the drive to leave.

To escape.

“Okay,” King says, lifting his free hand, holding it out to me as though I’m a panicked animal.

And I suppose I am—or at least, I’m acting like one.

“Okay,” he repeats. “I get that you need to go. I just?—”

I tug the door open, step outside, feeling the cool lick of the night’s air on my heated skin.

“Are you coming back?” he asks, jarring me from the sensation, from that sweet kiss of night.

I close my eyes against the sight of him standing there, concern and fatigue etched into the lines of his face.

I think about his shit week. I think about the stress of all those failed dates and him not wanting to disappoint his mom.

I think about waking in the warm, comforting circle of his arms and the rage on his face when he saw the bruises that Phillip gave me.

And…

I nod.

“Yes,” I whisper.

Then I turn and run away.

And, like usual, I don’t have any plan of where I’m going.

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