Page 8 of Daddy's Double Surprise

“Dish,” she hissed, leaning closer. She glanced around to make sure no one was around then asked, “Did something happen? You’re blushing.”

Warmth rushed up my chest into my face, making it burn hotter, and I bit my lip and nodded. “So on Saturday at the party…” I let my words drift off for a second feeling a bit ashamed by what I was going to tell my younger sister. I didn’t want to be a bad influence, but I was absolutely bursting to tell someone about it. “I sort of…I mean, we kind of…”

“What? No way!” Luna looked around and grabbed me by the arm, tugging me into one of the changing stalls and shutting thedoor. “You and Dr. Price?” Her eyes were wide, eyebrows high. The way her dark hair framed her face, she looked a lot like Dad, though his expression would have been disapproving, while hers was almost giddy.

“In my defense, I was really drunk and sort of emotional. He is really hot,” I whimpered and grinned, shaking my entire upper body. “He checked me out. I had no clue who he was, but I wasn’t about to let the moment pass me by. I sort of threw myself at him.”

“Oh my God,” Luna squealed and grabbed my arm, shaking it. “You had sex with Dad’s best friend.” She bobbed on her tiptoes, bouncing her frame up and down while giggling.

“Shh, someone will hear you.” Both of us were snickering, and it would definitely draw some attention.

“So tell me everything,” she hissed, then hung the shirt she brought into the changing stall on one of the pegs mounted on the wall. I set my stack of shirts down and proceeded to tell her every single detail I could remember, since my brain was cloudy from alcohol.

One by one, I tried on the shirts while we gabbed. Luna didn’t judge me at all for being sort of wild that day, but she did caution me not to let Dad know and told me it might be a good idea to avoid taking big risks like that.

By the time I was through the pile of shirts, I had a stack to buy, and a stack to put back on the racks. Luna loved the shirt she tried on, so we headed toward the registers to pay. The line snaked away from the checkout counter, weaving through the aisle. There were at least five people ahead of us when my stomach started to rumble.

“We should get a pretzel when we’re done here before we look for pants,” I told her. Luna agreed with a nod of her head, engrossed in something on her phone, and I heard a woman’s voice behind me, also talking on the phone.

Before I made any snap judgments about the use of technology when in public spaces, I glanced over my shoulder. I was shocked to see a face I hadn’t seen in years. Freya Morgan stood behind me with her cell pinned between her ear and shoulder. Her purse dangled from the opposite arm while she juggled a few garments and her wallet in her hands. Her eyebrows went up when she saw my face and she smiled.

“Hey, I gotta go,” she said into her phone. “Call you back later…Sunny?” she said, letting the phone drop to her hand when she ended the call. “Oh my God, I haven’t seen you in ages. Where have you been?”

Freya threw her arms around me and a million old emotions flooded me. She and I were best friends right up to college, where I headed off to Tampa with Kira in tow, and she made her own life in some unsavory places. I worried about her, but she edged me out of her life slowly until we stopped speaking to each other at all. The guy she was dating was a real tool too, not good for her in any way.

I hugged her back, feeling a little nostalgic. “I’m so good. How are you doing?” Backing away, I held her at arm’s length for a moment as I let my eyes take her in. She was much thinner now, lost probably half her body weight. She used to be a curvy girl like me, but time changed that I guess. She’d cut her hair short, in a dark pixie cut, and a few tattoos peeked out from under the sleeves and neckline of her bright red tee.

“You know, same old same old.” She shrugged one shoulder and hugged her arms—purse, wallet, and merchandise too—to her chest. She was a shred of who she once was now, curling inward into herself, but still smiling like always. She had a way of doing that, pretending life was just a grand adventure to be lived while carelessly throwing caution to the wind. She also had bruises—lots of them, all at various stages of healing.

That made my hand flutter to my arm where only a few weeks ago I had my own bruises, thanks to my ex, whom I dropped like a hot potato the very instant his anger became physical. But my bruises healed, and I moved on with a bit of a broken heart but the better for it. It appeared that whatever happened to Freya wasn’t over, that it was something ongoing.

I couldn’t help myself from asking because if my old friend was in trouble I wanted to help her. I felt the same familiar pang of guilt in my gut that sprang up when everything happened with Kira. It haunted me. I’d never forgive myself for not seeing the signs sooner and making her go to a doctor. If there was some way I could help Freya, I needed to.

“Did something happen?” I pointed at the darkest bruise on her forearm in a very obvious shape of a handprint, and she covered it quickly, shaking her head.

“Oh, no nothing. I was in a car accident.” She shifted and glanced away nervously, then tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and batted her eyelashes at me. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

Her behavior and the way she was redirecting me with her eyes were all telltale signs of abuse. I saw it in some women I worked with in Tampa. They always protected the abuser, told me they could get away if it was really that bad.

“It doesn’t look like nothing,” I said, and Luna perked her head up, pulling me by the arm as the line moved forward. I kept my eyes fixed on Freya’s plastic smile aimed at me.

“It’s really nothing. But hey, how long are you in town? We should have lunch. I’ll give you my number.” She held out her hand as if waiting for my phone, so I reached into my purse and pulled it out for her. The nagging feeling of guilt rode in waves across my skin, needling at my conscience.

Freya typed her number into my phone and sent a text to herself, then grinned as she handed the phone back. “There,” she said as her phone chimed a few more times with incoming texts.

“Freya, did someone hurt you?” I really couldn’t let this go. I had been where she was. My intuition told me her partner was hurting her. She needed my help.

She looked down at her phone, and my eyes followed her line of sight. Her hand trembled slightly as she read the screen. When she looked back up at me, she was pale. “I have to go.” Another plastic smile, another dismissal of my question. “Lunch sometime?” she said, so I nodded at her.

She set the merchandise down and slung her purse strap higher on her shoulder then dashed off. I watched her walk to the store exit as Luna pulled me closer to the register. It broke my heart to see her denying the truth, but while I didn’t have proof that she was being knocked around, I had my gut feeling, which was almost never wrong. Freya’s boyfriend or partner was hitting her.

“She looked rough,” Luna said.

“Yeah…and I think we need to help her.” I stared down at my phone where the open text message thread showed her number. Maybe I had a purpose here in LA after all, and sticking around was going to be worth it. If nothing else, it had already made me feel grateful that I dumped that loser before I turned into Freya. If I could help her out, I knew everything I’d been through would be worth it.

6

CARTER

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