by Taylor Hart
Hot and cold, that’s what he felt like. She didn’t know much about him at all, but if a kid was involved in this, they must have been trafficked, right?
“I had a crappy mother. She trafficked all of us, and I ended up waking up in a tub of ice.”
Zoey’s mouth fell open. She gaped at him. “What?”
His fingers tapped quickly on the steering wheel, but he didn’t look at her. “Look, you’re my partner. We have to trust each other. If I’m asking for information, then maybe I need to give some up, so … there.” He didn’t say more, and she didn’t feel like she could ask.
“I was the stupid girl who thought he was my boyfriend,” she said quietly. “I was exactly what Sammy could turn into.” She sighed, taken off guard by how easy it was to admit this to him.
They drove in silence for a while, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.
A squeaky noise from the engine drew their attention. “What’s that?” she asked.
“It’s the belt.” He shook his head. “I’ll look at it when we get home.”
Zoey stared at him, curious. She’d never thought she’d be curious about a guy again, but here she was. She wanted to ask a million questions, but she settled on one. “Do you really believe in God?”
“Yes.” He drove a bit longer. “Look, I don’t want to talk about everything that happened to me, because it was a long road, but I will tell you that I learned a couple of things. One, don’t ask why. Two, just be grateful for whatever good you get in life.”
She tried to process this, but her anger won out. “Oh, right, grateful to be beaten most days.” She held up her hand and pointed to the tattoo. “Grateful to be branded and told I now belonged to him. Grateful for the stench of body odor surrounding me and needles being stuck into my neck if I fought too hard.” Her hands trembled as a memory resurfaced: Marcus slamming a baseball bat into her stomach after she’d refused to willingly have sex with him. “Grateful to get raped. Grateful to be naked and chained to a sink in a bathroom for days without food. I should be grateful?”
He rapidly blinked and clutched the steering wheel tighter. His lips pinched into a line. He slowed, getting off the freeway, then took a hard right turn, hitting part of the concrete on the curb. They both jolted, but he kept driving.
She realized a tear was falling from her cheek. “Dang it.” She brushed it away, humiliation burning through her.
Nicholas weaved through the winding streets, then went through the gate to base camp. He parked next to the garage and turned to her. “I’m sorry for what happened to you.”
Zoey held tightly to the car door handle, forcing herself to stay put despite wanting to bolt. It had been drilled into her, at the farm, that in the North Star to Freedom Foundation she would constantly deal with her own junk, too. They would call it “healing.” She would call it “junk.” Not that she was the only one struggling with junk. How could his own mother traffic him? It was unfathomable. “I’m sorry for you, too.”
Nicholas let out a long breath.
Finally, Zoey got out, rushing toward the house. Nicholas matched her pace and got to the front door first, reaching out and yanking it back for her.
She flinched, then went through. “Thank you.”
He reached for her arm.
She yanked it back. “Don’t do that.”
His hands went up in surrender. “I get it. Sorry.”
She sucked in a breath, putting her head in her hands. “No, I’m sorry, I just…Sometimes I feel completely normal, and at other times I’m so angry. And I decided one night, after a long night of getting raped over and over again…” Another tear went down her cheek. “I decided that if there really was a supreme being, or a God, then He must be sadistic, ya know? Evil. That He must be cruel and harsh.”
Nicholas didn’t say anything.
“How could an all-knowing God allow this to happen to people and just not do anything?” She clenched a hand into a fist, then forced herself to relax. “So I decided that I didn’t believe anything. I decided I’m better off assuming that we were just thrown into this place and that none of it means anything.”
Nicholas cocked an eyebrow, and his eyes flashed. “And what about all of the people who stepped up to rescue your butt from your pimp? What about Cyrus and the fact that even though he’s slowly going insane looking for Marcella, he’s still doing good? He still cares about you and me and…Sammy and all the other…” He shook his head and shoved past her. “Never mind. I can’t do this.”
A half hour later, there was a knock at Zoey’s door. She hesitated, reluctant to talk to anyone. She’d been shaken after her talk with Nicholas, so, since no one else was around, she’d gone to her room and started doing sit-ups, push-ups, jumping jacks. When she’d gone to the farm, she’d realized that she needed the physical release of exercise if she wanted to step up her mental game.
Another knock rapped at the door, followed by the voice of Val, the resident therapist. “Zoey, can we talk?”
Reluctantly, she opened the door.
Val gave her a tentative smile. “I heard it was a good day…and a rough day. Can I come in?”
Zoey hesitated, rubbing a hand across her forehead. “I’d rather not talk.”
“Okay.” Val put her hands up and sighed. “I get that. I want you to know that when you need to talk, I don’t care if it’s in the middle of the night or anytime; you just come get me or text me. Ralph always puts my number in your phones.”
“Thanks.”
After dinner, after going over the whole day with the captain and conferring with Ralph, they found out that Ralph’s contacts at big data had confirmed that Sammy was still sending DMs to the predator. They also found out that Sammy had sent a picture only a little bit ago. Now Zoey and Nicholas both sat at the kitchen table.
He was scarfing down a sandwich, and she was tinkering with her salad.
Nicholas spoke through his food. “This is the worst part of the op. You get attached.”
She stabbed a piece of chicken too hard. “Why can’t we just tell Sammy he’s a weirdo? Stay away! Here’s what happened to me!”
Nicholas frowned, his gaze meeting hers. “Would you have listened?”
Her anger fizzled.
“Kids are all taught in school that we shouldn’t engage with perverts on social media, on video games, and in chat rooms, and do we listen?”
The conversation with him earlier still permeated the unspoken space between them. She grabbed her plate and marched into the kitchen, throwing the rest of her salad in the trash. In hopes of distracting herself, she rinsed off her plate and focused on doing the dishes in the sink. Nicholas had picked up his plate and all of the other condiments on the table and had brought them over to put them away.
She liked that about this shared house. Sometimes they ate dinner together, and sometimes they didn’t, but everyone cleaned up after themselves and shared in that duty willingly. It was stupid, but she liked cleanliness. Too much of her mother, she surmised.
He nudged her, and she restrained herself from lashing out. He was just a guy. Damaged, sure, but somehow she actually liked Nicholas nudging her. Looking past his bad-boy facade, she could see that he was here trying to deal with his crap and help others, just like she was.
She didn’t look up from the dishes. “Hmm…what should be your superhero name? The Air Quote Man?”
He let out a light laugh. “You kinda suck at that.”
She grunted.
“What?” He took a rag from the sink and rinsed it so he could wipe off the counters. “‘The Tumbler’ is a good superhero name. ‘The Air Quote Man’? Kinda stupid.”
“You like air quoting when you think something is ridiculous.”
After a moment, he put the rag down and held his hands in air quoting position. “‘Cheerleading is way cool.’”
She smirked; he was trying too hard now. As she put the last of the cups inside the dishwasher, she said, “First of all, you can’t
air quote a whole sentence, or so an expert told me. And second, you’re a cheerleader now too, so watch it.”
Right then, Captain Jace walked into the kitchen. He looked at them, from one to the other. “Ralph was able to install a tracker on her phone through some app she has, so don’t worry—she won’t take off without us knowing.”
Relief washed through Zoey. “Good. At least we’ll know before she runs off and does something stupid.”
The captain nodded. “Zoey, I need you to up your game and try to get closer to her.”
“Hey, what about me?” Nicholas asked. “She can’t leave my classes; she’s my only chance at passing.” He seemed oddly concerned about this.
Zoey grinned. “Whatever.”
“Maybe I’ve gotten used to having you with me every second.”
Was he flirting? No. Zoey had to focus on getting through to Sammy. She had to figure out how to get closer to her and have her trust her.
Cap pointed at Nicholas as he backed out of the kitchen. “I hear you have some cheer moves to work on, too.”
Nicholas growled at the captain. “What?”
The captain laughed, then disappeared.
Zoey stifled a giggle, but her whole body still felt lighter. “Come on, let’s go practice the routine.”
Nicholas went with her to the main living room. She hooked up her phone, and the routine came on. Ms. Montlake had sent her a downloaded version of the routine that all the girls had practiced with. On the screen, Sammy started leading them through it.
“I didn’t realize Sammy was the mastermind of this whole routine until today,” Nicholas commented as he lined up and followed the moves.
“Makes sense,” Zoey said, remembering the attitude she’d seen from her fellow gymnasts before she’d left for the Olympic training center. “Girls tend to get jealous when you outshine them.”
Nicholas grunted but kept doing the steps.
Zoey focused. The routine wouldn’t be a problem for her. It was just distracting to have to simultaneously work on this and think of ways to befriend Sammy.
After an hour, Nicholas turned off the routine, sweat pouring off of him. He hesitated. “Hey, want to get a drink of water, then walk out to my car with me? I wanted to look at the serpentine belt.”
Zoey nodded and absently followed him, still trying to figure out what to do. They got bottles of water and headed toward the big garage.
Nicholas stepped inside the garage to turn on an outside light. He grabbed another huge light and opened his trunk so he could hang the light up there.
“Guess you’ve done this before,” she commented. He liked working on cars too. She added that to her list of what she knew about him.
He snorted. “Ah, yeah, it’s…the thing I’ve always done to make me feel better.” He leaned into the car, fiddling with a rubber belt.
She leaned in, too. “I have never really looked at the inside of a car. I have no idea what any of this really means.”
“Pfft, well, let’s cure you from that problem. This is the serpentine belt.”
“I see.”
He pointed to another spot. “This is where you check the oil. This is the engine. This is the…” He continued until she knew she wouldn’t remember any of it.
After a bit, he stopped, turning to her. “I lost you, didn’t I?”
“Yep.”
“But you didn’t stop me.”
“I think you kinda wanted to explain it.”
He nodded, then examined the belt again. “I don’t know why it’s making that noise. It annoys me when I can’t figure it out.” He fiddled with it, and his lips pressed together in thought. “You can’t figure out how to get closer to her, can you?”
It bugged her to hear that he’d spotted this. She shrugged and leaned against the car.
He tinkered with a car for a while. Then he said, “Think of what you have in common. Cheerleading. Kind of. Tumbling. I saw that tape, and she has mad skills, like you.”
“She’s okay,” Zoey agreed. She couldn’t very well hold her to an Olympic standard, now, could she?
“And she’s cocky.”
“Are you talking about her or me?”
“You’ll never know.” Nicholas grinned.
She thought about herself before Vegas. “Well, I’m not cocky now.”
He grunted. “None of us are.”
Neither of them spoke as he loosened a number of bolts, moved some of the engine parts around, and pulled the belt off to inspect it. She moved over to a shelf that contained a ton of tools. She picked different ones up, then put them down.
“I want to be your friend, Zoey.”
She sucked in a breath and kept her gaze fixed on the tools. Conflicting emotions about this guy warred inside of her. “I want that, too.” She hesitated. “Did you tell Val something about today?”
“When we got back, I was…having a rough time. She intercepted me, and we talked about some stuff.”
“Me?”
“Just some things that included you, not about you. Zoey, I don’t care what you believe in. I just…care about you.”
She turned to look at him.
He was holding the belt up to the light. “Cyrus set this whole project up so we could prevent kids from getting trapped, but he also set it up so we could feel like we’re making a difference. And we do.” His eyes met hers briefly, then refocused on the belt.
Yes, this was true. The knowledge warmed the center of her chest.
He picked up a different belt and started putting it into place. “Trust. It’s hard to come by, but you can’t move forward if you never learn to do it again. Trust me, and trust yourself.”
Zoey nodded, turning away from him and moving toward the house. “Thanks,” she whispered.
Chapter 15
Sammy
The next couple of days were a blur, but things fell into a new pattern. They had cheer every morning from six to eight, then after school until seven. Sammy, Megan, and Liz would usually stay at the gym until nine, helping Zoey and Nicholas nail all of the moves. The competition was two days away.
Zoey had more or less become Sammy’s new best friend, and Sammy would sit by Nicholas and Zoey at lunch. They met before and after school to practice the routine. To Sammy’s surprise, all of the girls from the “puppy chow gang” would sit by them too—not just Megan, but Liz and all the other girls in that group.
While Sammy was grateful for this new group of friends, she couldn’t help but miss her old group, too. Pretty much all of her old friends would ignore her in class and at practice as much as possible, unless they decided to bark at her. She was stunned every time they did it, and she couldn’t believe she’d acted like that before.
It surprised her when Frankie walked up to her in the middle of lunch and handed her an envelope. “My mother said you’re invited and that I had to hand deliver the invitation.”
Their mothers had been friends since high school, so Sammy was sure this was why he’d invited her. Sammy looked at the invitation. It was for a party the next night at his house.
Later that night, as Sammy finally went to bed, she cuddled her phone but held the invitation in her hand. Part of her wanted to go. Frankie was popular, and he was Karl’s best friend. All her old friends would be there. Frankie had a pool, and she was sure it would be a blast.
Glumly, she pulled up the fifteen DMs that she’d missed that day from Hunter. He’d become one of her closest friends. She laughed at some of the stupid cat pictures he sent, and she was touched at some of the quotes he sent.
Hey, she messaged.
He messaged back quickly, like he’d been waiting. How’s the cheer grind?
It was weird, but they’d grown close in a short period of time. None of the guys she’d ever dated had taken such a specific interest in her life and the things that were important to her. Good, actually. She smiled to herself. Things were looking up, and it just might all work out.
That’s amazi
ng. I knew you would rock it. So, you coming to Fort Collins this Saturday? He knew all about the state competition, of course.
Yep.
The next DM was a picture of him cuddling a kitty.
She laughed. Nice.
Are you a cat or a dog person?
Cat. Definitely. She grinned.
Can I come watch you at the competition? Please?
Sammy felt the butterflies again. She imagined what it would be like to tell her friends she had a college guy. Karl would probably be there, with Frankie and all of the other popular kids. If they saw her with a college guy, they would be blown away. The thought of revenge, of finally getting the upper hand, encouraged her to agree.
I would love that.
She fell asleep, texting this amazingly hot college guy, one who knew her better than anyone else.
Chapter 16
Sammy
Sammy watched the team practice her routine with pride. There were only two more days until competition. She couldn’t believe it was already here.
As Megan took Nicholas through the basket toss part of the routine again, using Zoey as his partner, Sammy had to admit that Megan really was better than anyone had ever given her credit for. Hmm. What else had she missed around her because she’d been so focused on her little group of “mean girl” friends?
Her phone buzzed and she tugged it out of her bag, smiling as she saw three DMs from Hunter. She scrolled through them. One was a picture of him and his friends from his fraternity, which he’d told her all about last night.
Hey, gorgeous.
She liked it when he called her gorgeous. He was always so flattering. Hey.
He DMed back, sending her another picture of him shirtless.
She scoffed and rolled her eyes. I know you’re buff. Quit bragging.
His response was a meme with a cat flying through the air. A nearby text box said, “That’s amazing!”
She laughed.
He sent a picture of his feet. Those amazing, too?