Page 100 of Nowhere Good

“Any big city. I’ve never been to one before.”

“You’ve never been to a big city?” he asked, aghast, which made her grin.

“Nope. Just admired lots of them through my phone and in the movies.”

He traced his fingertips along her back, leaving a trail of tingles in his wake. “Well, I’d love to take you to see one. Kansas City would make the most sense, since that’s where I live at the moment, but New York City is on another level. And people would absolutely buy your candles there. I think they’d buy them anywhere.”

She rolled over and rested her chin on her forearms so she could see his face. “Tell me about it.”

“New York? It’s the greatest city in the world.” He crossed an arm behind his head and stared at the ceiling. “Hard to put into words. You’ve gotta experience it for yourself to get it, but I know you’d love it there, especially with how creative you are.”

“If you love it so much, why’d you really leave?”

His gaze grew distant. “Not all memories are good ones. There were some things I wanted to leave behind. Maybe I needed to. And I guess I was looking to test myself. See if I could adapt to my job in other environments.”

“Like here. The little corner where I grew up.”

“Long way from home, I know. I didn’t exactly plan on branching out of the city, but when I saw this case, I had to go for it. Because of the MO, but also because of Eliza.” He paused. “I wanted to make sure she wasn’t written off as another dead addict.”

His words made her emotional. Now that she’d had him, she never wanted to let go—but she’d have to, wouldn’t she? She checked the digital clock on the nightstand on the right side of the bed. After ten p.m. She and Dillon had an agreement—he wouldn’t tell if she didn’t come home tonight, but…

Reality crept in, and the afterglow of sex began to fade.

As much as she wanted this to be her new life, her actual life was still a living parasite. It still controlled her.

“So, how ’bout it?” he asked. “Think I could ever take you somewhere in the city? Like to a real restaurant, not some diner. I know you have to figure some things out, but…”

He was asking her out. On an actual date. Claire would love to swoon over that, but she couldn’t just go to the city with him.

You have to tell him the truth.

This time, Seth picked up on her change of mood. “What’s wrong? Was that too much?”

Claire swallowed. “I have to tell you something.”

He propped himself up on his elbow. “Okay.”

She shuffled back in the bed and grabbed a pillow to hide her naked body, feeling vulnerable. Seth skimmed his fingertips over her leg. She’d shaved in the shower earlier, fantasizing about the slim chance they might end up here, but she hadn’t actually expected it to happen.

But she felt safe with him. Safer than she’d ever felt with anyone. Even still, her body held onto her anxiety like a fifth limb that would kick her square in the teeth if she dared to tell anyone about the cage, even him.

“It’s about my dad. About my childhood.”

“I’m listening.”

She drew a breath, as though she were about to dive head-first into cold water. “Sometimes, when we’d get in trouble, instead of getting, like, grounded… we’d get put in a cage instead…”

Confusion knitted his brows, and he squinted like it wouldn’t register. Please just believe me. “What kind of ‘cage’?”

“The kind with bars? I don’t know, a cage, Seth,” she snapped, then buried her face in the pillow to hide her shame. She didn’t know how to talk about this, but she hated herself for snapping on him.

When he brushed her arm, she met his honest eyes. “Hey, I’m sorry. I’m just trying to understand what you’re telling me.”

She tried to tell her damn nervous system that she was safe, but that thing had a mind of its own. “It was in the basement. My memories are fuzzy. I’ve never gone down there unless he put me there, ’cause it’s just… too much. But I know it was there.”

“Okay, and this was like something he had built? Or was it more like a dog cage?”

Colorless memories flitted through her mind. She remembered there were shelves and the stairs leading back up. She remembered the cold metal bars. She remembered the silence.