Disillusioned (Swept Away, #2)(26)

“You think so?”

“I mean it was his fault, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I guess most people blame themselves when a loved one dies.”

“Yeah, it was like he died while he was still alive.” Tears rolled down my face as I walked aimlessly, no longer caring where I was going.

“I guess that’s what happens when you love too hard. You become broken when you lose them.”

“I never want to love that hard.”

“Me either.” Rosie’s voice was strong. “I’m not going to let any man ruin my life.”

“It’s hard though, isn’t it? It’s hard not to let someone get too close.”

“You really liked Mattias, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.” I gulped. “I really did.”

“Have you heard from him since you’ve been back?”

“No.” I stopped outside a bodega.

“Do you want to see him?”

“I want answers, so maybe.”

“That’s not the right answer, Bianca. You can’t see him! Who knows what he’d do? Especially if he still wants something from you. Especially if you don’t want to go to the police.”

“I just don’t know what I’d say to the police,” I whispered into the phone. “Would they even believe me?”

“I don’t know, Bianca. I don’t know what you’d tell them. Mattias Bradley, the CEO of one of the biggest corporations in the world, kidnapped me and then flew me home and I don’t know why.”

“Yeah.” I closed my eyes. “They’d laugh me out of the precinct.” I took a deep breath. “Hey, I’m about to head into the subway. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, Bianca. Stay safe.”

I hung up the phone, my heart pounding as I tried to figure out what to do next. I couldn’t go home, not with Jakob there—and not with his having a key. I’d have to get the locks changed. I didn’t know what he was thinking, but I knew that he’d be angry that I’d escaped. I was in a maze and had no idea how to get out. The events of the past week were leading me in one direction, but all I could see were the walls. There still seemed to be no clear path out of this mess. I was angry and upset and so, so sad. I had nowhere to go and no one to talk to. I was all alone. I missed my dad. I mean really missed him. And more than that, I missed the lost opportunities that I had had with him.

I’d never fought for a better relationship. I’d never tried to cross that line to have a deeper, more significant relationship with him. I’d accepted his pain and lived with it. I’d occupied my mind with other things. Felt love and acceptance in other ways. I’d experienced the love of a father in movies. I’d experienced the childhood I’d always wanted by watching Meet Me in St. Louis. I had been Judy Garland, I had the caring and protective parents, the wonderful sisters, the next-door neighbor that made my heart clamor, I was on the trolley singing about the ringing and the dinging of the bell. I was happy in those moments. I was a part of something. That was the life I’d grown up with. It wasn’t real and it wasn’t mine, but I felt the heartache and the love and it was as if it were mine. It had been enough. Just like my favorite book, Homecoming, by Cynthia Voigt. I’d read that book every year since I was ten years old. The sadness and the loneliness of the Tillerman children was my own, and while I didn’t have the siblings, I had the feelings. I was on that journey, looking for home. I’d always been on that journey. I’d just never acknowledged it.

“Hey, girl, you okay?” An old black man standing by a trash can looked at me with wide eyes.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“You homeless?” He looked at me knowingly.

“No.” I shook my head.

“Don’t let them boys up at the corner recruit you.” He reached into his pocket. “It ain’t the way. Don’t get in no strange cars.”

“I’m not going to get into any strange cars.”

“Them men be sick. Some of them look sane, but, girl, they be sick.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You too good a girl to become a prostitute.”

“I’m not going to become a prostitute, sir.” I wiped the tears from my eyes and tried not to laugh.

“Why you crying?” He handed me some gum. “You wanna piece?”

“No thanks.” I shook my head, but he kept his hand held out, so I took a piece. “Thank you.”

“It’s Juicy Fruit.” He grinned. “Juicy Fruit always makes you feel better.”

“Thank you.” I unwrapped the paper and started to chew it. The sweetness of the gum invaded my shroud of sadness and I started to feel a bit more like myself again.

“It’s a cold world out there.” He looked up and down the street. “Look around you, girl, all these people with all this money, but who’s really happy?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged and looked around me. People were walking quickly in their suits, looking important and just as lonely as me.

“Everyone got somewhere to go. Somewhere to be. Everyone’s in a hurry, but you know what? When they get home, there’s no one there waiting. There’s no one there caring. All that money, all that power, it don’t mean nothing in the end.”