Collared(42)

She and Morgan exchange a look. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Mom shifts.

“I’m so sorry about what happened. What a nightmare.” Morgan sets her bags down and looks like she wants to hug me. I slide back some more. “When we heard you were found, god, we threw a celebration party.”

“You threw a party?” It seems like a strange thing to do after what happened. I can’t process it.

“Practically everyone from our class came. They’re all so happy you’re back, Jade. You know how much everyone liked you.”

I sweep my hair behind my ear. “Everyone came?”

I’m on repeat because I don’t know what to say. I was missing for ten years, and people threw a party when I came back? I can’t make it compute. I should be glad friends were happy I’m back, but it’s been so long that so much of the old me is gone. I don’t remember them.

“Of course. Well, everyone but the ones who moved away or, you know, died.” Morgan bites her lip and looks to Candace for an interception.

“And Torrin—he didn’t make it.” Candace gives me a look I feel like I’m supposed to understand, but I can’t translate it.

“He’s a busy guy.”

Morgan bobs her head while Candace shakes hers. “You’ve heard about him, right? Well, of course you have. I saw you two on the news when you came home from the hospital.” She nudges Morgan, but I don’t know what it means. “Can you believe that though? I mean, crap, I go to St. Marks.” Her head shakes again. “Do you know how awkward it is to go to confession and talk about my dirty thoughts to the same guy who’s responsible for them? Sheesh. That’s one boy who grew up in all the right places.”

She laughs a little, then Morgan stabs her elbow into Candace’s side. Another look.

Candace’s face drops. “Oh yeah, you guys were a pretty big thing in high school, right?”

If you consider agreeing to marry each other one day a pretty big thing, then yeah, we were a pretty big thing. I answer her with a shrug.

“That must be crazy weird for you then . . .”

“Not weird at all.”

Mom clears her throat and looks behind us.

“Really?” Morgan asks.

“Well, I was kidnapped for ten years, and no one thought I was still alive to be found, and here I am.” I lift my hands at my sides. “Torrin becoming a priest isn’t so hard to wrap my head around.”

I think Morgan and Candace are regretting their decision to come up to me almost as much as I am. They’re looking behind them now too.

“You know, we should get together.” Candace pulls a phone from her pocket. “Like soon. We’ll spread the word so you can catch up with all of your old friends. Oh”—she waves her phone at me—“I’ve got a friend who is so single and so hot it should be illegal. He’s got a 401(k) that would drop an heiress’s panties, and he drives a 911. I should introduce you two.”

I guess the way I’m breathing catches Candace’s attention because she stops talking. She looks at my mom, who’s looking at me with the same concerned expression.

“You know, whenever you’re ready for it,” Candace adds.

“If you ever are.” Morgan elbows her friend, watching me like everyone else is.

I feel like someone’s dropped a beach ball into my chest and is blowing it up. My lungs are straining, my ribs are stretching—everything hurts. My vision blurs, and I know I need to get away.

Talking about Torrin and parties and set-ups with a couple of friends from my past who feel more to me like ghosts than real people has shoved me to the tipping point. I need to find a quiet place where I can be alone, or I’m going to go off. Right here on the second floor of Nordstrom.

From the way Mom’s looking at me, I think she knows. “Jade”—her hand rests on the outside of my arm—“do you want to leave?”

Morgan and Candace look from me to each other then stare at my neck now that I’m preoccupied. Candace swallows and steps back. Morgan blinks and looks like she might cry.

“I’ll . . .”—the word sputters out—“I’ll . . .” My head whips around, looking for an escape. “I’ll be . . . right back.”

I take off, rushing toward the end of the store where I can just make out the words Women’s Dressing Room. It’ll have to do because I can’t keep going. Not right now. Every day since returning has been a challenge. Every hour, minute, and second have tested me. I’ve been gripping an anvil hanging over the edge of a cliff and trying to keep it from falling, and that rope is slipping through my hands.

I can only hold on for so long before I give out.

This is the moment I give out.

I lunge into the dressing room.

A woman standing at the mirror whips her head around and gives me a concerned look. “Are you okay?”

I nod as I stumble down the row of rooms. “Yeah,” I get out before pushing through the empty room at the end.

After I get the door locked, I slide to the floor. It’s carpeted and clean, but when I curl my body onto it, a smell assaults me. Bleach. It’s pungent and vile and too much. The end of the rope slides through my hands, and the weight I’m holding falls. I fall with it.