Page 68 of Ruthless Regret

“I’m not staying there. You don’t get to control my every decision. You can’t threaten me with your bullshit lies now.”

“I’m not trying to control you or threaten you.” My voice is soft. “You don’t have to like it, but you know it’s the only decision that makes sense.”

She shakes her head, her frustration clear. “Fine!” The word is clipped and sharp. “But I have conditions.”

“Tell me.” I’ve won this round. Now it’s time to see if I can agree to any of her demands. Make this decision easier for her to live with.

“No more lies. Full transparency about anything you find.”

“You’ll know everything I do.”

“I’m not your prisoner. You don’t get to dictate whether I can leave the house or not.”

“Fine, but I need to know where you’re going. For your own safety.”

“I have my own space. My own room. Thatyoudon’t have a key for. You stay out unless I allow you in.”

“Agreed.”

She stares at me, and I’m almost sure she’s waiting for me to argue.

“Is that it?”

“For now.”

“Then I agree to your terms.” I nod. “Get your things, we’re leaving now.”

“What? No! I’m not leaving tonight.”

“We are.”

“Why? Can’t we just leave in the morning?”

“Because we need to go now.”

She looks at me like I’m crazy. Maybe I am. But she doesn’t understand. How can she? She has no idea what it’s like when structure is the only thing that keeps you sane. When every second has to follow a plan. I’ve conceded to some of her requests, and now I need to get back on track.

“This is ridiculous. It’s late. We can go tomorrow.”

“No. We can’t.” I step closer to her. “We leave tonight. That’s the plan.”

“The plan? Theplan?Whatplan?”

When I don’t answer, she throws her hands up, and sighs. “Okay. Fine! But I want it on record that I’m not happy about it.”

“I didn’t expect you to be.” I could explain that I can’t face the idea of staying in a hotel room overnight, that I need to be in a familiar space to be able to settle … as much as I can settle, anyway. But she’ll probably think I’m trying to make her feel guilty for her part in putting me in prison. And things betweenus are unstable enough, without adding more lighter fluid to the flames.

She glares at me for a second longer, then turns on her heel and walks away.

I wait, the silence settling around me. The tension is still there, simmering, but it’s easier to ignore now. After what feels like an eternity but is probably only ten minutes or so, she comes back, pulling a suitcase along. She doesn’t meet my eyes as she walks past me and heads for the door.

“Let your friends know. We don’t want them coming after us, or calling the police on me for kidnapping you.”

She stops, and turns. Without looking at me, she walks past and goes into the kitchen. A minute later, she’s back. Her spine is rigid as she goes back to where she left her suitcase, curls her fingers around the handle, and drags it out of the house.

Fine. If that’s how she wants it to be. I’m perfectly okay with not having to make conversation.

I follow her out into the night, and she pauses so I can go ahead of her and lead her to the car. Peter’s sitting inside, waiting for us. I open the back passenger door for Ashley, and she climbs in, then shuffles across the seat. I slam the door, and go to the back so I can put her suitcase in the trunk. When I take the front passenger seat, Peter turns to look at me.

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