Page 119 of A Step You Shouldn't Take

“Happy Wednesday,” Reed said, holding out a pink paper carrier bag. “I got you these.”

A gift? For me? I tore off the tissue paper and opened the box. Tennis shoes? He’d got me pink tennis shoes? I hated tennis shoes. But for the next few weeks, I couldn’t wear anything else, so they were absolutely perfect.

“Thank you. They’re exactly what I need.”

“Ready to go to the hospital?”

Was I ever. I could finally get these bandages off and take a long, hot shower. Reed had been washing me with a sponge for a week, but I still felt icky. With anyone else, I’d have felt mortified too, but he’d seen me at my worst and he was still here, so I figured I’d manage to live with the embarrassment.

After my check-up, we’d be going home. The hotel was lovely and everything, and it was weirdly nice being with all the girls somewhere that wasn’t a dungeon. Despite being from different backgrounds, we’d bonded over non-alcoholic cocktails and a shared love of daylight. Well, apart from Abigail. When the police told the others that Peter was dead, they’d squealed with delight and hugged and high-fived, but not her. She’d cried. Stockholm syndrome, the police psychiatrist told me in a whisper.

The porter knocked on the door of our suite, and I took one last look around. I’d miss the place. It held good memories, and better still, no ghosts. But soon I’d be back in my house, in my bed—our bed—to make new memories with Reed.

Will and Rania would be staying with us for another week or two before they returned to England. Neither of them had visited Virginia before, so they thought they’d do some sightseeing before they went home. Two new friends, one new soul sister. I finally had people I could talk to about my gift, people who took me seriously and discussed the spirit world as if it were merely another town or city, not like my father. Where was he in this whole sorry tale? I hadn’t seen him since his visit to the hospital, but he’d had his assistant send a card and two tickets for an all-inclusive break in Hawaii. I’d gifted the vacation to Kayla. She deserved it. I’d missed Tara’s wedding, but Kayla and Maria had been keeping Just Imagine going until Annie and I felt up to working again.

Even though my father’s parenting skills were woefully lacking, at least he knew what he was doing in Washington. At first, the British government had been reluctant to chastise Robert Turner, who claimed to have no knowledge of his son’s misdeeds, even when it turned out he’d been paying the credit card bills when Peter bought large quantities of women’s clothing and thirteen freaking pizzas a day. His son had always been generous with gifts, he claimed, as well as having a high metabolism.

But then my father had done his thing, and the British government had recalled Robert after several senators, a gang of congressmen, and the media verbally eviscerated him. The now ex-ambassador had offered an insincere non-apology on TV the day before yesterday—along with citizens of America, staff at the British embassy were shocked to learn of the heinous actions of an individual who decided to imprison thirteen young women, yadda yadda yadda—which was kind of insulting, but at least he got his butt kicked back across the Atlantic with Robert.

It was over.

Two more figures appeared behind the porter. Katia and her father, who’d treated us like royalty for the last week.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay longer?” she asked.

“I just want life to get back to normal.”

Or whatever passed as normal these days.

“I guess I can understand that,” Katia said. “We’re building a new resort in California, so I’ll be flying out there in two weeks to oversee the work.”

“With her bodyguards,” her father said.

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, with my new bodyguards. All three of them.”

“And you’re sure about the reward?” her father asked Reed.

A million dollars, that was how much he’d offered for the return of his daughter, but Reed, Wyatt, Will, and Rania had asked for it to be split among the girls instead to help them get back on their feet. Even though Reed needed the money, he still refused to take a cent. Yet another reason why I loved him.

“Yes, we’re sure.”

“Well, remember you’re always welcome at our resorts. Any time, any place, we’ll give you the best room.”

“That’s much appreciated, sir.”

Annie and Kayla were staying at the hotel for another week to take advantage of the spa facilities, or so Annie said. I’d been worried at first that she wasn’t recovering, but then Reed had pointed out the way she looked at the waiter who served us breakfast every morning. The sneaky glances. The shy smiles. Somebody had a crush.

“Has Emma decided what she’s doing yet?” Katia asked.

“Not officially,” Reed said. “But fifty bucks says she’ll move back in with Wyatt.”

“Aw, they make such a cute couple. I’ve seen the way he looks at her.”

Reed sighed. After Emma came round from her operation, the tears had flowed. Mostly from her, but also from Wyatt and even a few from Reed. Emma had apologised for being, in her words, a bratty little bitch, and promised she’d never act like that again. I got the impression she’d done a lot of thinking during her time with Peter. The pressures she’d placed on her brother and Wyatt, the way she’d taken them for granted, the drugs, her acting out when she didn’t get her own way. I’d only known her for a week, but that wasn’t the Emma I’d seen. She’d changed.

And despite everything, it was clear there was still a spark between her and Wyatt. He’d stayed with her in the hotel, and even though she swore at first that he was sleeping on the sofa, yesterday she hadn’t been able to stop smiling and I knew he was back in her bed.

Wyatt would be returning to work next week too. Officially, he was on a temporary suspension, having received a rebuke for shooting a diplomat’s son on a property covered by sovereign immunity. Unofficially, he was a national hero, and his colleagues were taking him and Reed out for drinks on Saturday.

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