Collared(47)

“It must have been,” Mom replies, looking at me. Her eyes soften from seeing me relaxed, smiling, not about to lose my shit all over the room. Leaning closer to Torrin, she pats his arm. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Even his innocent face is guilty.

“Don’t play innocent with me.” She pats his arm one final time, waiting for me. “Father.”

Torrin laughs a note and waves as Mom steers me away. I can’t look away though. Not right away. Because he’s in a tux, and he’s staring at me the way I am at him, and he’s trying to tell me something I think I’m starting to understand.

He makes himself look away first—like he knows I’m incapable of it.

Mom steers me through the room. I wave and smile at people when they do the same, but most I don’t recognize. Other than some family members and a few close friends, everyone else is a blank.

“There’s Sam and Patrick,” Mom says when my sister and who I guess is her husband come through the door like they’re not sure they’re in the right place.

My dad shakes hands with Patrick and gives Sam a kiss on the cheek. That’s my sister’s husband. My younger sister’s husband. They have a baby. They have impressive-sounding jobs. They’ve grown and evolved in the past decade while I haven’t even managed to stay the same—I’ve wilted from the feel of it.

“You want to go say hi?” Mom catches me watching my sister, but I look away as soon as she brings it up.

They look happy. Relaxed. I don’t want to change that by popping up and introducing myself to her husband as the sister who was kidnapped ten years ago.

“I think I’ll mingle over here.” I don’t know most of the faces in the cluster of people closest by, but I’d rather face them than my sister.

Connor left last week for his Scottish adventure, and even though he offered to skip it, I encouraged him not to miss out just because I was back. Truthfully, I was relieved he was gone because it meant one less family member to have to pretend around. One last person to try to convince that I was okay.

Mom examines the group I’m moving toward. “Okay. Find me if you need anything. I’ll stay close by.”

She pats my arm and watches me as I keep going. She looks at me the same way as she did the day I started preschool—like she wanted to cry but was staying brave for me so I didn’t.

When I’m a couple feet away from the group, the circle of people notices me coming and start to open up.

“Hey, Jade,” one of the girls about my age says first. She’s the only one not staring at my neck so obviously I can almost feel it burn. “I’m Paige Arlington. We were in choir together in high school.”

I relax when I recognize her. The name, the association, it makes everything so much easier.

“Hey, Paige. Thanks for coming.” I can’t figure out where to put my arms. They feel strange at my sides. Weird behind my back. Wrong clasped in front of me. “Hey, everyone.” I make eye contact with the others, not looking away until they stop gawking at my neck.

A variety of greetings come back at me. Everyone seems to shift at the same time. This is going so, so badly. I’m not just socially awkward now—I’m socially inept.

Someone wanders up to join the group, but this face I remember. Just not the name that goes with it. “Jade Childs. You look just as great as ever.”

He holds out his hand—I guess for me to shake. When I put my hand in his, he grasps it too firmly and shakes it too hard. He’s probably using a perfectly acceptable touch, but it’s crushing to me. I rub my hand when he releases it.

“Trent Covington. We were bio partners our sophomore year.”

When he smiles at me, I remember. “You were on Torrin’s soccer team.” I snap my fingers. “You played goalie.”

His smile falters but doesn’t totally disappear. “Yeah, I played on the high school team, and actually, I played striker.”

“Oh,” I say, trying to remember. I can’t. I wasn’t exactly watching the other players on the field when I went to cheer at Torrin’s games. “Yeah.”

I glance over my shoulder, looking for an escape. I know these are my friends from school, and they seem like nice enough people, but I don’t fit in. No one knows what to say to me—I don’t know what to say to anyone.

I notice Torrin talking to another group of people we probably went to school with. He’s smiling, and they’re all laughing, and at least five conversations seem to be happening in that circle. No one’s uncomfortable around him. And he’s the priest.

His head turns, and he sees me watching him. His smile stretches. Just when he’s about to get back to the conversation, he seems to notice something. His eyes slide away from me but land on someone close by. His smile vanishes.

“So, Jade . . .” Someone nudges me.

I flinch from the unexpected contact. It’s Trent.

He’s moved closer, and his smile’s back. “It’s been forever. How have you been?”

I don’t really think much of his question, but the mouths of the people around me drop. Paige hisses something at Trent.

What he’s said hits him. From the look on his face, it hits him like a hatchet to the back. “Oh my god. Sorry.” He blows out a breath and brushes my arm. “Such a stupid question. Just ignore the idiot in the room.”