Page 73 of Traded

I don’t know where I’m going, only that I need to getaway.

The sixth-floor bathroom is blissfully empty. Slamming the door to a cubicle closed with shaking hands, I sink down on the closed toilet seat and burrow my hands beneath my armpits.

My forced inhale brings the faint scent of burning to accompany the small hit of oxygen. I dive for the de-scenter spray in my bag, trying not to choke as I let loose the full can, covering myself in it.

When I can’t smell anything but a slightly metallic undertone, I slump back and stare at the cubicle door. My phone buzzes in my pocket. Once, and then again.

My fingers twitch toward it, before I curl them inward.

Don’t.

Stay here. Stay hidden.

The second time it buzzes, the pull grows stronger. Until it’s unbearable. Snatching it up, I hold it to my ear and close my eyes.

“Ro,” he says urgently. “Tell me where you are.”

Nois a word. A very good word. And it would be fucking fantastic right now, except my body refuses to let mesayit. I slam my hand over my mouth, trying to pull the phone away.

“Rosie.” The noise behind him cuts out. And his voice changes. “Tell me right now.”

My face crumples. “I…”

Hold it. Hold it, and you can tell them. You can tell all of them.

Tears leak out of my eyes as I curl over, my teeth biting into my lower lip so hard I draw blood.

But I can’t stop it. My hand shakes as I lift it again.

“Sixth floor,” I croak out. “Bathroom.”

He hangs up without saying anything. I lean my head against the wall, the phone still in my hand.

I wonder what he’ll come up with this time. If he’ll add anything new to the growing list of commands. The faint swoopof the bathroom door opening is followed by a sharp rap. “Let me in.”

When I unlock the door, Liam bundles me back, squeezing us both inside. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’ll fix it.”

I want to scream. But I can’t. Because he took that. He took all of it. My hands scrunch into his jersey, yanking on it, and he only holds me tighter. “I know, baby. I’ll take it.”

I shake my head into his chest, my body wound up tightly, but he’s already talking. The layers of command settle into me, tightening screws on a suit of armor that grows smaller and smaller every time he does this.

Once a day. Twice a day. I’m losing count.

“There,” he says raggedly. Liam runs a hand over my back. “Feel better?”

I feel… emptier. As if Liam’s scooping away something inherentlyRosiewith every bark he settles on me.Every time he pushes a little of himself into me, he pushes a little of me out.

I search for words I’m allowed to say. “How long are we going to do this?”

We stare at each other.

And it hits me as I look at him. At the two of us, crammed into a bathroom cubicle while our world carries on around us. “You don’t know, do you?”

His lips tip up, but there’s no smile on his face. Only a tightness that seems to be getting worse. There’s a faint sheen across his forehead, a panic in his eyes as he looks away from me. “I… It’s going to be fine, Ro.”

“That’s not an answer.” The words are so calm. I could be talking about the weather. “I’d like to know.”

How long do I have to play this charade before I can have my body back?