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She was already on to the next thing, slinging her purse over her shoulder and moving away. “See you later.”
And just like that, she was gone.But why are you running, Anya Post?
CHAPTER NINE
ANYA
I was doing it again. Running away. No surprise.
I pushed my foot on the car accelerator, the lit-up buildings of Cincinnati behind me, the winding curves of the interstate ahead. What a night. What a business meeting.
No, that wasn’t what it was.
What the hell was it, then? I wasn’t sure what to call it. We weren’t friends, and we weren’tgoingto be friends. We weren’t doing business together, and we certainly weren’t dating.
So why had I confided in him like that?
Cringing, I changed lanes and sped the car up some more. The miles flew by, the city landscape blurring outside my window. Twenty minutes or so, and I’d be home, in my small cottage, the bizarre conversation behind me. I couldn’t wait for it to happen.
What in the world had compelled me to tell Robert about the mugging on the L? Nobody knew that—not my friends in Chicago, not my friends here, not anyone. It was a dirty secret I’d hidden away. I’d been so embarrassed by it, so shocked, and so ashamed. I was the one who wanted to move there. I was the one who insisted on doing things my way and on branching out to a new state and a new job after graduating from Kenyon College.
And I’d failed.
My job might have been fulfilling, but my life in Chicago was still mostly a disaster. No real friends. Nobody that was worth dating more than once. Nothing but the sinking feeling that my world was going to collapse under the weight of a cost of living that rose exponentially every year.
Then came the mugging. That goddamn mugging.
I still felt fear from it. Still harbored pain about how invisible I’d been to the people around me on the train. They had to know I was there. They had to see something. It was happening in front of them, for God’s sake. How could they not see I was in trouble; how could they not register the fear on my face? And yet, nobody had done anything at all. No one intervened. Nobody tried to chase after the guy when he made off with every valuable that I had on me.
Iwas the one to call the police.Ihad to report the crime. AndIwas all alone when they told me it wasn’t likely I’d ever see my stuff again.
I got a new wallet, a new laptop, and a phone. I was only missing a new Goyard tote, which I couldn’t afford. But truly, there was no replacing the first one—my mother gave it to me as a graduation gift. Telling her it was stolen felt almost as painful as the actual crime. No, it was better to keep the whole messed-up incident a secret.
And yet, I’d told Robert Kilgore.
That reality was still on my mind the following morning when I trekked over to Gwen’s house to check on her. Despite her age, she insisted on living in her home instead of moving into an assisted-living facility. “I’m not leaving New Burlington,” she said when I brought up the topic. “No one can make me.”
