Page 21 of Tethered

“It was over the second you left me in that hospital bed.”

“So that’s it? I had one moment where I let my past trauma get to me, and you’re gonna hold it against me forever?”

“It wasn’t one moment, Shepard.” I sigh, looking up at him. “If you had come to see me the next day or the next week, I’d have understood. Fuck knows I have my own trauma to deal with. But you didn’t. You stayed away, and that tells me exactly how much I meant to you. Trauma or not, I would never have done that to you.” I swipe at a tear that slips free, angry all over again that he saw it.

He presses his forehead to mine. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Calliope. I know I left. I know I fucked up. But I didn’t forget about you, not for a second. I think about you every second of every day. I see you every time I close my eyes. I swear I can smell you on my skin. You’re like this addiction I can’t seem to purge myself of. I’m drowning in you, baby. I’m sorry I fucked up, but I swear I won’t do it again. You have to give me a chance to prove it.”

I sigh, feeling my body slump in response to his words. “I can’t. I don’t trust you. Just…let me be. I was right when I said we’d never work. You should have listened to me.”

He takes a step back, but I don’t miss the determined look in his eye. “You think I’m gonna let you go now I’ve been inside you?”

I snort with laughter, shoving past him as I move to the back of the cruiser and wait for him to grab the crates. “Funny, because you’re not the only man who has been inside me, but only one slept in my bed last night.” Direct hit. Though I don’t like the wince or the fact that I caused it, I don’t apologize for it.

He opens the back and gets one of the crates out. “I’ll grab the other one if we need it.” He takes the crate and wheels it toward the apartment, knowing I’ll follow. He slows his steps, waiting for me to catch up. It isn’t until we’re outside the door that he looks at me. “I’m not giving up. I’ll earn back your trust.”

“It won’t be as easy the second time.”

“No, but it will be worth it because this time, I know what I’m missing.”

We knock, but nobody answers. When Shepard suggests we leave, I pull out the key Dawn gave me and let myself in.

“If you had the key, why did we knock?”

“You think he’d have been impressed with us just walking in, especially as we aren’t bringing his wife and daughter back to him?”

“Good point. Alright, where do you want to start?”

“Dawn told me where the documents are kept. As they’re the most important things, I’ll get those sorted. Do you want to take the crate and fill it with stuff from Hannah’s room? She has nothing at my place but the outfit she arrived wearing.”

“I’m on it. If he returns, you shout for me.”

“Sure thing.” I dismiss him as he picks up the crate and heads up to Hannah’s room. I wait to make sure he’s gone before moving to the kitchen area. I open the cupboard above the coffee machine and find nothing but mugs. I try the cupboard beneath it and find a jar of powdered creamer, French vanilla flavored. I use a towel to pick it up and unscrew the lid before I flip open the locket function on my ring. I tip it up and pour the white powder into the creamer before screwing the lid back on and giving it a shake. I put it back exactly as I found it.

I toyed with just killing the man. It would be simple enough to poison him, but every eye would turn to Dawn and then to me. Besides, a quick death is too easy for this asshole. Instead, I added a little something extra to his favorite creamer, somethingthat will make him oddly drawn to me. I found the original recipe in the book Austin left for me. It was labeled as a love spell but came with a warning that love was just another type of poison. It went on to list how the intended recipients always became obsessed and dangerous. It made me wonder why anyone would bother with it in the first place.

Regardless, I used the base recipe and altered some ingredients so he would feel inexplicably drawn to me, but without the romantic connotations. I want him to keep trying to breach the ranch’s security system, violating the protection order Jen is putting in place, so I can build another argument for why the unstable motherfucker shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near his daughter.

I head to where Dawn said the office was. I find the door open and stroll in, moving right to the safe. The documents are supposed to be in the drawer of his desk. But right now, I’m more interested in what he’s hiding. I try the obvious code choices first, but they don’t work. After searching the drawer and finding a folder with the documents, I try using Dawn’s and Hannah’s birthdays. I try his birthday, and their wedding date. I’m about to give up when I have an idea. And bingo, it pops open.

I rummage in the safe for anything interesting. I see a stack of cash, but I don’t touch it. He’d notice that gone right away. Instead, I flip through the stashed folders and grin when I find a couple of interesting bits of info. I slip a file into the back of Dawn’s document folder, close the safe, relock it, then wipe it down with a dust cloth from the desk.

A buzz of anticipation fuels me as I jog to the main bedroom and pull out a few outfits, bras, underwear, and toiletries for Dawn. I rummage in the dresser next to the bed and find a pack of contraceptive pills and a pair of women's reading glasses. I place them on the pile of clothes before adding the small jewelrybox from the dresser. I check the closet, pulling out some boots and sneakers and a jacket or two, and toss them on the pile.

My eyes land on a wedding dress hung in the back of the closet. I pull it out, trying to imagine Dawn wearing it. She couldn’t have been much older than eighteen when she got married. Part of me can’t help but relate to her. She might not have been behind bars, but she was trapped in her own version of prison. I hang it on the back of the closet door and stare at it as I hear footsteps approach.

“Calliope?”

I poke my head out. “I’m here. Can you fit this in the crate?” I ask, pointing to the pile on the bed.

“Just about. You almost done, or do you want me to fetch the other crate?”

“No. This should be fine. I’ll buy them whatever else they need.”

I place the document folder at the bottom, then stack the rest of the stuff on top until the crate is full.

“Do you want me to help you carry it down?” I ask, trying to be civil, though it sounds forced.

“I can manage. Is that it?”