Page 15 of Open Secrets
The words cut sharper than they should. I reached for her hand, cold against my palms, and wrapped it between both of mine. I rubbed gently, trying to coax warmth back into her fingers, into her skin.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I told her, steady this time, like I was swearing it.
She just smiled, faint and tired, like she didn’t believe me.
Two hours later, I was still there. Maria had come out of the drugged haze about an hour ago, sharper now, though she kept pretending she was fine. The nurse said she could get dressed, so I waited outside the curtain, listening to the soft rustle of clothes.
The curtain slid back, and Maria stepped out, back in her own shirt and jeans, pale but standing. “I’m ready,” she said quietly.
I nodded, slipping an arm out automatically. She tried to resist, shaking her head, but her body swayed, and I held on anyway. Eventually she gave in, leaning into me as we walked.
Before we left, I fished her keys out of her purse, not even asking. Taking off my jacket, I draped it over her shoulders, bundling her up. How she thought she was going to stay warm in that thin shirt, I’d never know. She let me fuss with the collar, too tired to argue.
Then I glanced through the glass doors and stopped cold.
A crowd. Not just the jackass I punched earlier—he’d called reinforcements. A wall of signs and angry faces waited outside, ready to spit fire at her the second she stepped into daylight.
“Dammit,” I muttered. My fists tightened, aching for another swing, but not with Maria like this. Not today.
The receptionist barely looked up, her tone bored, practiced. “We have a back door. You can exit through the store next door.”
Relief hit, sharp and fast. I exhaled, muttering a quiet “Thanks.”
I’d punch my way through if I had to, but Maria didn’t need that—not now.
Guiding her gently, I steered us toward the side hallway, every step braced against the urge to turn back and finish what I started.
The way they stood there with their signs and their mouths open, shouting words they’d forget as soon as they drove home.
People like that made me sick.
What right did they have to tell Maria—or anyone—what to do with their own body? They didn’t know her. They didn’t know us. What the hell did they think they’d accomplish, screaming in someone’s face as she walked out of a clinic? That she’d suddenly change her mind, decide to keep it because some stranger spit Bible verses at her?
And then what?
Would they pool their money together to pay for diapers, doctor visits, rent? Would they give up their Saturday mornings to babysit so she could finish school? Would they show up at midnight when the baby wouldn’t stop crying and she was dead on her feet?
No. They wouldn’t do a damn thing.
Truth was, if half of them ever found themselves in the same situation, they’d be in here too. Begging for help. Signing the same papers. Hiding behind the same curtain.
Motherfuckers.
I squeezed Maria’s hand tighter, guiding her toward the exit the receptionist had pointed out. She didn’t need their judgment. She didn’t need their noise. What she needed was to get out of here with her head up, and I’d make damn sure that happened.
The back door creaked open into a narrow alley, the cold air biting hard enough to make Maria shiver under my jacket. Garbage bins lined the wall, lids askew, the sharp smell of rot cutting through the antiseptic still clinging to my nose. We moved slow, her arm looped through mine, her weight leaning just enough that I could feel how much she was holding back.
A battered sign pointed left—Alternative Exit—and for once I wanted to thank whoever put it there. Thank fuck people like this existed, people who made sure there was another way out.
We followed it into the side door of a store, fluorescent lights humming overhead. No one stopped us. The clerks kept folding jeans, adjusting mannequins, pretending they didn’t notice Maria’s pale face or the way I was holding her steady. That quiet mercy was the kindest thing I’d seen all day.
The front doors slid open with a hiss, and through the glass I caught the side of the crowd. Signs raised. Voices sharp, battering the store walls as if sound could seep through concrete. From a distance, to anyone watching, we were just a couple who ducked in to shop. Nothing more.
I guided her to the passenger side of the car, easing her down into the seat like she was made of glass. She settled in, tucking my jacket tighter around herself, and I jogged around to thedriver’s side, my breath puffing white in the February cold. God, Austin in winter cut deep when you weren’t ready for it.
The engine rumbled alive, and I pulled us out onto the street, putting distance between us and the noise. Maria sighed, her forehead leaning against the window, her voice barely above a whisper.
“What about your car?”
