Page 80 of Deception & Daylight
Paige wraps her arm around my shoulder, her comforting embrace soothing some of my anxiety. “What are you afraid of?”
“I was moving on,” I explain. “Things were getting better. The bruises are gone. I got over my fear of intimacy. What if whatever they have to say ruins all of the progress I’ve made.”
“You won’t know until you find out what they know. And if you have to start from scratch, I’ll be right here by your side to help you through it. You’re not alone anymore, Mags. You have a whole community here that loves you. Hell, you have Miles fucking Barlow wrapped around your little finger. I know you’re dead set against staying, but you have a home here whether you like it or not.”
I worry my bottom lip, letting her words linger in the back of my mind. I don’t have an answer right now. She’s not entirely wrong — Oak Ridge has started to feel like home over the past few months, but I’m still restless and unsettled. Rosie approaches the table with a look of worry etched on her face as she places a glass of water in front of me.
Taking the decision out of my hands, Paige says, “Hey, Ro? Would you mind if we borrowed the apartment for a little bit. Maggie has an important call to make.”
“Of course. Follow me.”
Paige squeezes my hand before leading me to the back of the diner towards a narrow set of stairs. When we reach the top, we enter a quaint apartment with an open concept living space. It’s a little dated, but incredibly charming. “I’ll get outta your hair,” Rosie says, squeezing my shoulder. “If y’all need anything at all, just holler.”
“Thanks Rosie.”
“Anytime, darlin’. We’re here for you.” The door closes with a thud and her footsteps fade as she descends the stairs. I follow Paige into the small living room with the worn yellow sofa, my eyes unfocused as I prepare myself for what’s to come. It takes me a moment to realize she’s still holding my phone in her hand as she tugs me down onto the sofa beside her. “Do you want me to talk?” she asks.
Finally coming out of my haze, I respond, “No. I think I have to do this myself.” She nods and presses the call button before handing the phone to me, then she gently takes my other hand in a firm grip, silently offering her support.
“Toronto Police. How may I direct your call?”
“Hi. Um. My name is Maggie Watson. I received a call from Detective Boucher.”
The robotic sounding voice responds, “Please hold while I transfer your call.”
A while later, a gruff voice comes over the line. “Detective Boucher.”
“Hello Sir. This is Maggie Watson.”
“Hi Maggie. I’m sorry to call you under these difficult circumstances. I was wondering if you’d be able to come in to speak to me sometime this afternoon?”
I shift on the spot, anxiety coursing through me. “I’m out of the country right now. Honestly, sir, I’d appreciate it if you could just tell me why you needed to speak with me so I can get on with my life. I don’t mean to be rude.” My voice holds more confidence than I feel, but I’m ready to put this behind me.
“No, it’s okay. You’ve been through an ordeal. It’s understandable that you’d want to move on. You may want to sit down for this. Do you have someone with you?”
His words do nothing to set me at ease. “Yes. I’m ready.”
“We’ve identified your attacker as Eric Tremblay. Does that name mean anything to you?”
At the sound of my roommate's name, my entire body seizes and I can’t seem to suck in air. I can faintly hear my name being called as Paige’s hand strokes over my spine. “Sir. This is Paige Brooks. I’m Maggie’s best friend. She’s having a panic attack. We’ll have to call you back.” Her voice sounds distant as my vision blurs and countless suppressed memories assault me.
Stupid fucking bitch.
All you had to do was notice me.
Bet you’ll fucking notice me now.
The sound of his belt.
Panting.
Pain.
So much pain.
Then darkness.
“Mags, breathe for me, baby.”Miles. He’s here.
