Page 7 of The Preacher's Pet

“Did they find the man who took you?”

I shake my head. “No. I had no idea where to look. I didn’t even know what direction I’d come from or how long I’d been out there.”

Maybe a part of me hadn’t wanted anyone to find the commune, or the man who’d taken me. I’d have needed to go with them to confirm they were in the right place, and I hadn’t wanted to have to face him again. I hadn’t wanted to face anyone else either. I’m still riddled with guilt at running away. I’d had friends there—other girls I’d come to think of more as sisters than anything else—and I’d just abandoned them. There was a possibility my kidnapper had turned to one of them to marry, what with me off the scene, and if that had become one of their fates then it was my fault. So maybe I’d been deliberately vague when I’d been questioned, or perhaps I’d simply blocked a lot of it out, but the result was that neither the ragtag community, nor the man who’d taken me, had ever been found.

Camile takes my hand, and I resist pulling away. I’m not used to affection from people I barely know.

“God, I’m so sorry you had to go through all of that, Ophelia.”

I offer her a tiny smile. “Thanks.”

“And you and Cain knew each other from before you were taken?”

“Yes, we were friends.”More than friends,I want to say.Best friends.“He must have moved away while I was still missing, and honestly, I hadn’t really given him much thought until now.I had so much other shit to deal with, you know, and my life before I’d been taken always felt kind of vague to me, like it had happened to someone else.”

Until now. Until I saw him, and it had all come rushing back to me like someone had opened a window in my memories.

“I bet he thought about you, though.” She nods as if agreeing with herself. “The way he took off after you was intense. And you say you and he were friends, so I’d imagine he has. I get that for you it was different. You went through an awful trauma, but he didn’t. And you just disappeared from his life. I bet he’s thought about you a lot.”

I huff a small breath. “I doubt it.”

But, still, I wonder…

Cain used to sneak into my house at night, traversing both our properties and grounds, tapping at my window so I’d know to get up and let him in. There hadn’t been anything sordid about it; we’d been children. He’d simply been looking for a safe space, a place to escape, and I’d given it to him. He’d curl up on the floor with a blanket and sleep there until the first shaft of morning light slatted through the window, then he’d slip out again and return to his own bed. Most of the time, I hadn’t even noticed him leaving. But I always felt safer sleeping with him on the floor beside me. I hadn’t been the one who’d needed protecting back then, but that’s how he’d felt. Like my secret protector.

Poor Cain.

How often had he shown up with a black eye or a split lip? How often had I spotted the rings of bruises around his wrist? I’d never said anything about it, though, never brought it up to him. I hadn’t wanted to embarrass him, and we’d both known there was nothing that could be done about it. With families like ours, you either got lucky or you didn’t. And if you hadn’t beenlucky enough to have caring parents, you either learned how to deal with it, or you died.

“I can’t believe Cain never found out you’d been brought home again.”

I shrug. “My parents were pretty protective of me at first. They kept everything quiet. Knowing the man who’d taken me was still out there was a huge worry for them. They thought he might try to take me again, so they kept my return quiet. I guess everyone hopes he believes I just died out in the wilderness somewhere.”

It’s true. That’s what my parents hoped. But deep down, I knew that wasn’t the truth. He’d have known if I was dead. He’d have sensed it.

“Wow, yeah, of course. That makes sense.”

I bite the inside of my lip and hesitate before saying, “Look, Camile, I’m new here, and I know people are going to find out about what happened to me, especially as Cain is here, but is it okay if you keep the details to yourself? I don’t want everyone to gossip.”

They will anyway, but the less you feed the fire, the quicker it goes out.

“Of course. I won’t say a word, I promise.”

“I appreciate that.”

She stifles a wide yawn with the back of her hand.

“You’re tired,” I say. “I’ll be okay now.”

She doesn’t look convinced, so I fake a yawn myself.

She offers me a sympathetic smile. “I guess I’d better go so we can both get to bed. You’re sure you’re all right?”

“I’m fine.” I get to my feet, seeing her to the door and unlocking it again.

“You have my number if you need me,” she says.

There’s still concern on her face, and it’s starting to feel oppressive having her here, watching me. I need space to go to pieces.

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