How to Save a Life(60)

My hands gently rubbed at the knots in her neck and shoulders, loosening the tension coiled in her. Jo slumped, her protective walls coming down a bit. They didn’t crumble—she’d built them strong. But I heard her sigh, letting me in a little. She leaned into my touch.

“It didn’t start out bad with Lee,” she said. “He wasn’t a prince by any goddamn stretch of the imagination, but he wasn’t a monster. Not then. Not until he got into meth.” Her breath hitched. “The drugs turned him nasty…”

“It’s okay, Jo.”

“I’m telling you because I’m not stupid. I don’t want you to think I’m stupid.”

“You’re not stupid.”

“I’m weak.”

“No.”

“I let my body become a receptacle for Lee,” she said miserably. “A punching bag, a spittoon. I traded my soul for shelter, a house to live in and food on the table. It was survival, not a life. Not a life…”

A sob bent her down, and her shoulders shuddered under my hands. I wanted to hold her to me so badly, hold her together as she came undone. I kept rubbing her neck and shoulders, waiting for her to let me know what she wanted. What she was ready for.

“I was exhausted and shit-broke and desperate,” she said. “But I would never… If I’d have known, he would hit… I’d never…”

She collapsed back against me, turning into my chest. I held her close, tucking her head under my chin and stroking her hair. My heart ached for her and soared for us at the same time.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me, Jo. I know. I know how strong you are.”

She shook her head, her tears dampening my shirt. “No…”

“Yes,” I said, holding her tighter. “You’re strong. Even strong people get stuck in in f*cking terrible situations.”

“A strong person would’ve left.”

“A strong person figures out how to survive. And then you escape or fight your way out. Or you give in. You never gave in.”

“And now he’s dead,” she said. “It’s my fault. I know it was an accident but I really f*cking wish you didn’t have that on your hands or heart. You’re too good to have to carry that.”

“I can take it,” I said. I have no choice.

She sat up and looked back at me with red-rimmed eyes. The lump on her temple was green with a purple seam of dried blood. “I’m sorry you got involved in this messed-up situation. But I’m really glad you ended it.”

I wished with everything I had, I could take away her pain—all of it, from the scar up to that moment—and keep it so she’d never have to suffer it again.

“It’s not over yet, Jo,” I said. “Not until I get you somewhere safe. Where none of this—” I gestured at the TV with my chin. “Can touch you.”

She didn’t say anything. A handful of seconds passed when neither of us moved. I wanted to tilt her face to mine and kiss her. Kiss her all night. But I’d only just found her yesterday. Abused, scared…I wondered when the last time someone was kind to her. Or touched her softly. When was the last time she made love with someone? With Lee? Was he good to her? Or did he abuse her behind the closed bedroom door, too? I wanted to ask but couldn’t, and my muscles stiffened with rage at the mere idea. Jo felt it and pulled away.

“I’d like to sleep now,” she said, her walls back up. “My neck feels better. Thanks.”

“No problem.” I rose from her bed so she could climb under the covers. “You should sleep. We’ll leave at dawn.”

“Sure.”

Jo crawled under the covers, and settled her head on the pillow. I covered her shoulders with the stiff, cheap polyester comforter. She closed her eyes, the furrow in her brow smoothed.

I turned out the bedside table lamp and lay down on my bed. It was only nine o’clock, but sleep was dragging at me too. I hadn’t realized how wound up I’d been, on the run for weeks, and then trying to convince Jo to come with me. Now that she was here, I felt myself melting into the bed. We had a long way to go, but she was here.

I was at the place where thoughts broke and started to scatter before sleep when her sleepy voice drifted across the space between our beds.

“I feel it getting closer.”

“Feel what, Jo?”

“Whatever is going to come and take you away from me.”

In the dark, she couldn’t see the expression on my face. Maybe she heard how my breath hitched at her words. Maybe she didn’t mean what my heart wanted her to mean, that she couldn’t stand the idea of being apart from me again. Maybe she meant my imminent arrest. Or maybe her thoughts were breaking apart too, and she didn’t quite know what she meant.

But I harbored the hope that some part of what we had four years ago was still alive in her, even if she kept it locked up.

I staved off sleep for another few minutes, waited until her breathing was deep and even, and I was sure she was asleep.

“Good night, Jo,” I said softly. And then, a whisper, “I love you.”





“Where are we going?” I asked. “I mean, aside from north?”

“Just north,” Evan replied. “For now.”