Page 98 of The Lies We Tell
Iris nods. “He’s dead. They all are. At least, everyone who was there in that warehouse.”
Saint told me they were, and I honestly thought I’d believed him, but it all hits in a different register when Iris confirms it. “I was taken before you were. And I can’t help thinking if I’d reported it, it would never have happened to you. I’m sorry, Iris.”
“Why didn’t you?”
I wipe away a tear. “Because I heard them talk about how they had police officers on their payroll, and I was scared. They had my purse, my keys, my wallet. Everything. They knew where I lived. If I got free, they would know where to pick me up all over again. I even met the man I was supposed to be given to. Sold to.” Tears spill over my lashes, and I dash them away. I didn’t come here to unload on Iris.
Iris sighs and leans back on her pillow. “You did what you had to do. I understand why you feel like you couldn’t process it. I can’t. People from the club want to come see how I am, and I miss my kids, but I can’t face any of them. Not while I look like this. Not when they are going to look at me with pity.” Saint had told me about Iris being a teacher of young children. I can imagine her struggle.
I think about the early days with Saint and my experience yesterday of sharing what had happened to me with the police. “It’s hard. But it improves. Every day. I promise you, Iris.”
She glances over to the door, as if she’s checking something. “I’m not even sure I can handle Spark looking at me the way he does. Like I’m about to break. Even though I feel like I am. It’s messed up.”
“From what Saint told me, Spark won’t waver. Not once. He’s all in with you, Iris. And I know it’s hard. But learn from my mistake. Share how confusing it all is with him. He’ll want to know.”
Iris sighs. “I’m fed up with crying.”
I remember that feeling too. “Then don’t. Decide right now you are going to stop. And if you start again anyway, be kind to yourself. It’s so early after what happened. And you’re still healing.”
Iris touches her bruised eye gently. “I don’t know what I’d do without him, without Spark.”
“In the middle of the night, when you’re fast asleep, I bet he feels the same way about you. Saint shared some of what Spark has gone through and how you changed him for the better. It’s why Saint made the choices he did, even though he’s probably going to pay for them.” The hitch catches in my voice.
“It’s not fair. You’ve already paid enough of a price. It’s always the women who get hurt.”
I nod and try to compose myself. “We’re okay. We’re trying to come up with a plan. What he did for the two of you that night was the right thing. He thinks the world of Spark and King. It cuts him up inside that he’s lost their friendship. But the fact he’s a good man is the reason I love him. Your happily ever after carries a heavy price for him.”
“And for you.”
“I didn’t call you to make you feel bad or to get pity. We’re getting off track. I wanted you to know I’m here for you if you need me.”
Iris shakes her head. She perks up a little. Less sad. More ... what was the word Spark used? Feisty. Yeah, that.
“No. We stay on that track. You shouldn’t be in hiding.”
I huff. “I’d rather hide for the rest of my life with him than find out what it’s like to live without him.”
“Saint helped save my life. The club might have forgotten, but I haven’t. King is furious. Demanding loyalty from members. Spark is torn. The club is his life. I got sixty-five thousand dollars from the club for the death of my dad. It’s Saint’s if he needs it to pay back the club.”
“Holy shit, Iris. For real?”
She nods.
“I think Spark’d be glad to see it save his friend.”
“That’s so generous and kind and unexpected. Is money all it will take? Because I have some, not much. I have about five thousand in savings. I wanted to get a place of my own. It’s barely anything.”
The bed sinks next to me. I was so engrossed in the conversation, I hadn’t heard Rae come in. She looks straight at me. “My brother’s bringing in the groceries. But if you need money, quietly, I can re-mortgage the house. I bet I could get about fifty or sixty thousand out of it.”
My eyes sting, and I grip Rae’s hand.
“I’m going to call my uncle Cillian,” Iris says. “I don’t know if Saint told you about him.”
“Some.” I don’t tell her what I heard through the open bedroom window this morning.
Iris nods. “He should pay too. I’ll ask him for fifty.”
“That would take us to one hundred and seventy. Is it enough?”
