Hush

by Anne Malcom

  The woman turned toward Orion, scowling. “I will call the police right this second, you little bitch, if you don’t get off our property right this instant!”

  Orion stood her ground, her shoulders high, her eyes unflinching. “You won’t get away with this,” she said, her tone even, volume lowered, but still laced with venom. “I will not let you erase Mary Lou from her memory. Am I making myself clear?”

  The woman scoffed, slamming the door in Orion’s face, the large door knocker clanging.

  Orion didn’t move an inch. She took heavy breaths, her hands in tight fists, her carotids thumping so loud she could hear it.

  “Orion,” Maddox called out from behind her. “We should probably—”

  Orion turned sharply, glared at him. “I know, Maddox!” she yelled, stomping back through the lawn, harder this time, toward the Camaro.

  Maddox took a deep breath, tried not to grin as he watched her trample the lawn.

  They both climbed into the Camaro, and they sat quietly for a moment.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, unsure of himself.

  She shook her head, her eyes locked on the massive house, her anger intensifying. “Just drive, please.”

  He nodded, put the car in gear, and drove off.

  As she watched the fancy houses pass, the lawn jockeys, the timed sprinklers, and the lawn care armies, she thought about Mary Lou, and how much harder it must have been for her to cope in The Cell. How drastic of a change her life had taken, and yet she loved every girl in that place as if they were her own daughter. Her last thoughts were not of the freedom she missed, or the death she knew was coming, but of her daughter. In all the hell Mary Lou had been through, she never stopped putting others before herself.

  Orion felt the anger dissipate, and a hollow ache of anguish take its place. The haunting feeling that Mary Lou’s daughter—Mirabelle—would never know her mother, would never know how she saved so many stolen girls.

  Orion burst into tears, uncontrollable tears, and she threw her face into her hands.

  Maddox jerked the car to the side of the road and threw it in park. He didn’t say a word. He just put a hand softly to her back and felt her body tremble as she sobbed. She didn’t jump at his touch. On the contrary, she leaned back into it, comforted by the feel of him, the warmth that radiated from his palm.

  Twelve

  Maddox was innately caring. Patient. Easygoing.

  This was a glimpse of the boy she’d once known. He’d been quick to smile, easy to laugh, nothing was really a big deal to him. But then again, nothing ever came hard to him. Life gave him a lot, so he had no reason to be tense, waiting for the next blow.

  Since she’d locked eyes with him in that hospital room, she’d seen nothing of that easygoing boy. Everything about this man was tense, angry, wired. And she certainly had smelled the faint whiskey on his breath a time or two. Sure, that could’ve been due to the fact she’d come back from the dead after ten years and he had to investigate the horrors she’d gone through. Maybe it was the years of horror he’d seen before she returned.

  Maybe some of it was that.

  A lot of it wasn’t.

  April made a point not to talk about him a lot, not to probe Orion for feelings about him, but when she did mention Maddox, she made it clear he was no longer the boy from before, no longer carefree.

  Then again, none of them were the kids they had once been.

  It interested her, the butterfly effect her disappearance had had on them. She hadn’t thought she’d change the course of their lives. She thought she’d just be a dark mark on a tiny part of their childhood, that they’d soon forget about the girl they used to know who went missing. They’d continue on their paths full of light and privilege. Instead, they had both plunged themselves into different kinds of darkness.

  “You hungry?” Maddox asked.

  Orion jerked, realizing at some point she’d stopped crying and they had started driving again. She looked around, surprised they had made it back to her apartment already.

  “Hungry?” she repeated.

  He nodded. “It’s getting toward dinnertime, and I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. There’s a great Italian restaurant not far from here. No one really knows about it but the true Italians.”

  “You’re not a true Italian,” she returned with a raised brow.

  His eyes twinkled, and he smiled. Smiled. With teeth. Like before. “Ah, but I know many of them, and they trust me enough to let me in on the secret. Which means, of course, you have to promise to keep quiet.”

  Orion gritted her teeth and didn’t answer. Not just because she was angry that he thought he could fall into old patterns, but because she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know how to do the easy back and forth. She was furious with herself for being so fucking broken.

  Maddox’s smile faltered just a bit. “It’s worth it, I promise. The lasagna is my personal favorite. The carbonara is awesome too.”

  Orion’s stomach grumbled ever so slightly. The thought of doing something so normal like going out for dinner terrified her because it wasn’t normal for her. She looked toward her apartment building, thought of having to go through the effort of making dinner, or ordering takeout yet again, and she groaned.

  “Come on. You gotta be hungry,” Maddox deduced, as if he was now reading her thoughts.

  “Ah, I knew there was a reason they made you detective,” she said, snark heavy in her voice.

  He chuckled, unaffected by the tone or the stare.

  “Yeah, my skills know no bounds.” He paused. “They do takeout too. So, we could—”

  “No,” she interrupted, the thought of him inside her apartment even worse. “I want to go.”

  She didn’t. Not really. Inside her heart of stone, she wanted to go home, make herself something to eat, work out for an hour, and do some more research. Some more planning.

  Eating Italian food with the very man she should be staying away from wasn’t going to do anything. It wasn’t going to help her rebuild herself into a strong, unfeeling woman.

  But she said yes anyway.

  Because she wanted a taste. Not of lasagna, but of what life might’ve been like if she hadn’t spent ten years in a cell. If she’d made it home that night and continued to be Maddox’s girlfriend.

  “Let me just take a quick shower and change,” she said, opening the door. “You’re alright out here?” It came out more like a statement.

  “Of course.” Maddox smiled. “Take your time.”

  At first, it was all she could do to put one foot in front of the other.

  The restaurant was unassuming, on a quiet street. The sign was a scrawl above the door, lit faintly. There were flowerboxes in the windows.

  Orion wondered if Maddox brought women here on dates. If he had a girlfriend. It was the first time she’d wondered that. First time she’d let herself. She’d always been very good at controlling where her thoughts went. That was the only thing she’d been in control of for ten years.

  But everything was coming unraveled. With Mary Lou gone, with Adam gone, with the weight of her chain gone, she felt as if she might just float away.

  Walking on the street with Maddox beside her did nothing for that feeling. She was exposed, despite the fact her sweater was thick, her coat was expensive, and her boots were kick-ass. She was happy to have showered and changed while she was at her apartment, to put on a new skin, to wash away the day’s earlier events.

  Maddox didn’t seem to clock her anxiety, or he was pointedly ignoring it to try and make her feel better. He opened the door for her.

  It was meant to be a gentlemanly gesture, but that meant she had to walk into a crowded restaurant on her own.

  She imagined that everyone stopped their conversations to stare, to whisper, but that was just anxiety and narcissism lying to her. A few people glanced her way, but most were focused on food or conversation.

  The restaurant wasn’t big. Every table was
occupied yet it didn’t feel crowded. It was warm and smelled like delicious things she couldn’t pinpoint.

  A woman at a hostess stand smiled at her. “Two? Do you have a reservation?”

  Orion’s mouth was stuck shut, as if she’d just tried to swallow a spoonful of peanut butter. The mere fact they didn’t have a reservation and she had to communicate this sent her heart to her boots.

  “We don’t, but we’re very hungry and I promise to tip well, Maria,” Maddox cut in, moving slightly in front of her in a way that seemed natural, but she knew he did it on purpose.

  “Maddox!” the woman shouted, warmth and familiarity in her voice. “You don’t come here enough! We were worried you had forgotten about us.”

  “About you? Never,” Maddox said smoothly.

  Something about his voice changed. It was warmer, less reserved. He was hesitant around her. It wasn’t something she’d noticed until just then, seeing him interact with someone who wasn’t a ticking time bomb.

  “Who is this with you? You’re finally bringing a woman other than April. That’s a nice change of pace.” Maria grimaced. “Little party animal, that one.”

  Heat crawled up Orion’s neck, and she fought the urge to turn around and run out of the restaurant and away from this interaction.

  Maddox chuckled. “You’re telling me.” He motioned toward Orion. “This is Orion,” he said carefully, slowly. “She’s very special to me and she’s also never eaten here before, so I need you to tell Francisco to cook his ass off!”

  “Doesn’t he always?” Maria said with a cackle.

  “Of course.” Maddox grinned. “And Orion has already been briefed on the code of silence with regards to any kind of internet review site. So no worries on that front.”

  “Good. Good. We’re so happy to have you dining with us, Orion,” Maria said with a big smile, and she collected up two menus from the hostess stand.

  Something flickered in Maria’s eyes at her name. Did she recognize her? Had Maddox spoken about her? Surely not. He wasn’t likely to talk to a restaurant owner about the girl who’d disappeared when he was sixteen, no matter how close they were.

  It was more believable that she’d seen her on the news. They’d all taken great pains to hide from the media, but a few shots managed to get out there, along with their names.

  Because of this, Orion was always careful with her mask of makeup when she went out, sculpting her face so it looked nothing like the scared, lost woman the media had plastered all over the place for months.

  If you looked at her close enough, you’d see the resemblance. But she never gave people the chance to look.

  Maria was looking close. She was older than Orion had thought at first, her smile shaving years off the woman she guessed to be in her late fifties. She was plump. Not fat, not curvy. Plump was the only way to describe her. She was soft everywhere, but especially her eyes. They were kind and welcoming, but also sharp and knowing.

  “We’re gonna give you the best seat in the house, Maddie boy,” she said after a beat. She looked at Orion. “We’ll take care of you here, honey. Don’t you worry.”

  Orion almost burst into tears right there, just because of the soft way this stranger spoke to her.

  But she didn’t.

  It threw her off enough that she followed the woman, that she somehow didn’t lurch away from Maddox’s slight touch on her lower back. He was so close she could smell his scent. She’d smelled his aftershave, of course. Stuck in a car with him, she had no escape. Not that he wore too much, like he had when he was fifteen and still learning about subtlety. He wore the perfect amount. Orion didn’t have much experience with a lot of things. Walking into restaurants, driving, trying on clothes. Being a functioning member of society.

  But she was well-versed in the scents of men.

  Of peppermint breath hot on the back of her neck. Strong, musky, cheap aftershave clinging to her, mingling with the coppery scent of her blood.

  Expensive, woodsy smells seeping into the pores of her naked body.

  Yes, Orion had smelled all kinds of men, and each of them had repulsed her.

  But this was different.

  This was Maddox.

  He did not disgust her.

  “Right, right. Here we go. Best seat in the house,” Maria declared, setting the menus down on the table.

  The table was slightly removed from the rest of the restaurant, but not in a way that Orion would feel cornered, without an escape. Orion realized she hadn’t even been watching to see if anyone recognized her on the short walk. She was too preoccupied with Maddox and the way he fucking smelled.

  Maddox stepped forward to pull out a chair that was facing the exit, as if he knew she couldn’t have her back to it. And maybe he did. She’d learned a lot about PTSD since their escape, on her own and with all the therapists, and she knew that law enforcement was one of the hardest hit fields.

  She sat down on autopilot.

  Maria smiled. “Now, I’m gonna give you the opportunity to choose, if you so wish.” She gestured to the menu. It wasn’t pages long like Orion remembered from the rare time her parents had decided to take them to some cheap chain restaurant. The selection for appetizers, entrées, and desserts fit on one page. Even so, it was daunting.

  “Or,” Maria continued, after Maddox had sat down. He didn’t touch the menu. “I can choose for you, if you trust me.” She winked.

  Maddox picked up the menu and handed it over. “You already know my answer, Momma Maria.”

  She took the menu, turned to Orion. “And you, honey?”

  What a ridiculous idea, that Orion would trust this warm, smiling woman who she’d known for a minute.

  Orion didn’t trust the man sitting across from her, who’d she’d arguably known for years. In another life of course.

  Still, Orion found herself handing the menu to the woman.

  She beamed. “Don’t worry, honey. I’ll take care of you. You won’t be disappointed.”

  For whatever reason, Orion believed her.

  Maddox looked at her with a twinkle in his eye and a stupid grin on his lips. “You wanna get a bottle of wine?”

  She should’ve said no, of course. To the twinkle. To the wine. To a strange woman who called her honey choosing what she was going to eat.

  She should’ve screamed no and then run out like her life depended on it.

  But she didn’t.

  “Sure.”

  Maddox looked about as surprised as Orion was at her response. He recovered quickly.

  “The Italian Chianti that’s not on the menu anymore but you keep for your favorite customer?” Maddox spoke to Maria with sweetness and reverence in his voice.

  Orion was jealous.

  Of an old Italian woman with kind eyes.

  She winked at Maddox. “Of course.”

  Then she swept the menus away, leaving Orion and Maddox alone with each other. Of course, they’d been alone with each other for the entire day, but this was different.

  This was an Italian restaurant with soft lighting and a woman called Maria.

  Orion fidgeted. Tried to stave off panic. Tried to stop herself from replaying this afternoon. These past ten years.

  “April told me you’re turning into a regular Gordon Ramsay.”

  Orion snapped her head up at Maddox’s voice. There was softness in it. Same with his eyes.

  “What?”

  He chuckled. The sound was slightly forced, but nice nonetheless. “April said you’re getting good at cooking.”

  Orion paused as the information sunk in. Of course April told him about her. She lived with Maddox after all. A pang of annoyance hit her at April reporting back to Maddox like that.

  “What’s your favorite thing to cook?” Maddox continued, as if he weren’t bothered by her silence.

  She frowned at him, not trusting the question. Not trusting anything. “I like French cooking,” she said after a beat. “I’m working through the Mastering the Art
of French Cooking.”

  His eyes lit up. “Ah, Julia Child.”

  Orion didn’t hide her surprise at Maddox knowing the author of the cookbook.

  He shrugged. “I like movies. Julie and Julia is a great one if you haven’t seen it yet.”

  She hadn’t. But she would put in on her list.

  Orion waited for him to show her his true questions. The probing ones about her state of mind, to pick her apart until he found out she was planning on committing murder.

  But none came.

  Maddox continued to ask her about cooking, about books, about the lightest, smallest things in her life.

  Like this was normal.

  She played along.

  For tonight, at least.

  Orion was content.

  She hadn’t felt like this, ever.

  Her stomach was full of possibly some of the best food she’d ever eaten. Momma Maria wasn’t lying. She knew she had become something of a chef in her months of freedom. April had even coined Orion’s fare “orgasmic without having to bother with a man or a vibrator.” But, damn, she could only hope to one day make a lasagna that good.

  Her thoughts felt delightfully light thanks to wine that softened the edges of everything and tasted great. She had found some comfort in a bottle a time or two since escaping, but she was far from a connoisseur. With the wine Maddox ordered, she learned there was a whole wide world out there she had yet to explore.

  Maddox was driving the car. He hadn’t forced any conversation since they’d left the restaurant. He hadn’t pushed it when they were inside it either. It had flowed, easily, like the wine. About nothing important, and everything at the same time. When silence did lapse between them, it wasn’t awkward. He didn’t try to fight his way out of it. He felt more relaxed to her than he had since she saw him that day in the hospital.

  The lights of the town rushed past them and Orion watched it all go by. She had gotten what she wanted. A taste of what life might’ve been like if things were different. A sharp, fresh plate of bruschetta. Fresh mozzarella drizzled in balsamic and olive oil. Stuffed zucchini flowers. That lasagna. Tiramisu that was creamy and sweet. Red wine that slid down her throat and warmed her skin.