“It was that bad?” Wrinkles of concern graced Cujo’s brow as he squeezed her hand reassuringly.
“Arnie . . . he used to . . . I was . . . I did something . . . to get away.” Even now, she couldn’t say the words, didn’t want admit what he’d done to her. Humiliation overwhelmed her, memories of him standing clothed behind her, telling her all the reasons she was dull and uninteresting, all the while pressing up against her, confusing her. Breathing was becoming difficult, but she refused to succumb to the panic attacks that used to debilitate her when she lived in the trailer.
“Breathe, Pix. He’s not here now. There’s only you and me.” Cujo rubbed her hands between his.
He waited patiently for her to regain her composure.
“There is nothing we can’t figure out, Pix. Do you think he’ll physically hurt you?”
“I think it’s all about the money. He wants as much as he can get. He’ll be back in a week or two. But he used to . . . Cujo, I can’t even tell you what he used to do.” Her eyes filled with tears again, and she reached for another tissue.
“Okay. First, we’ll change the schedule. For the foreseeable future, you aren’t going to open or close the studio alone.”
“But Cujo, it’s my job. I have to—”
“No. You don’t. Second, we’re going to find a lawyer. A good one for you to talk to alone. You can tell him or her what you’ve done, and they can help you figure out the best way to manage it.”
“I have some money saved.”
“It doesn’t matter, because I’m here for you. And Trent is too. And so are Lia, and Eric, Harper, and Drea. And even though his head is so far up his own fucking ass right now that he’s giving himself a colonoscopy, Dred will be too. You need the best lawyer there is.”
Pixie couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. Cujo had always had a way with words.
“But you have to promise me something, Pix. You see Arnie coming, you run as fast as you possibly can. Don’t speak to him. Get security on your building to kick him out. You call me or Trent.”
The tightness in her chest started to ease. “Thank you,” she said, squeezing his hand.
“I hope one day you’ll trust me enough to tell me what you went through, but I understand you aren’t ready now.”
“You know, Cujo, I’m an only child, but since I met you, not once have I felt like one.”
Cujo nodded, pressed a kiss to her forehead, and left the room.
She still had her brother, but what she wished for was Dred.
*
DRED ZANDER—DERELICT DAD
When he found out who had sold that story to the scumbag journalist who’d made no effort to fact-check it with him, he was going to sue them for every penny they had. He’d already instructed his lawyers to force the magazine to issue a retraction. Petal wanted for nothing except a sober mom and a stay-at-home dad, neither of which he was certain he could provide. Everything else he’d taken care of. Nothing was too much when it came to making sure Petal had everything she needed.
And now the world knew about her. She wasn’t his dirty little secret as the publication implied. He wasn’t ready to share her with the world. She was too precious to be preyed on by a bunch of vulture paparazzi trying to get their first photograph. At first he’d blamed Amanda, had even rushed around to her condo to confront her, but her denial had surprisingly made sense. Why would she bite the hand that was currently feeding her? In fact, they’d talked at length, about how to get along for Petal’s sake. Amanda had shared her sobriety chip celebrating thirty days clean.
The limo pulled up in front of the red carpet. Dred didn’t want to get out. Elliott was out of the limo first, swiftly followed by Lennon. Nikan slapped him on the shoulder and stepped out.
“You going to be okay tonight, Dred?” Jordan asked.
If there was one thing he was pretty sure he wasn’t, it was okay. It had been six days since he’d seen Pixie, and during that time, he’d picked up his phone a thousand times. To text or send her a picture of Petal. Or in the small hours of the morning, to ask her to explain. Because in the dark, when light from traffic skittered across the ceiling, or the gentle May breeze fluttered the curtains, he could almost find himself in a place of not caring that she’d been an addict. In the dark, he could remember how she felt in his arms, how her eyes shifted between the color of whiskey and cognac, and how she understood him.
“Yeah, I got it covered,” Dred said, making a move to get out of the limo. Jordan placed a hand on his arm, stopping his progress. Dred looked down at it. “What the fuck dude, we need to go.”
“You need to go see her, man. It’s wrong that you didn’t let her explain. I love you, brother, but you are behaving like a fucking ass.”
“Do we have to go through this now, Jordan? Like it couldn’t wait the six painful hours until this shit is over?”