The lack of emotion behind her words was killing me. The things she was suggesting, the years of abuse by her own father, these weren’t things that should be talked lightly of while wearing a damn pink bathrobe.
She cleared her throat. A small sign. A welcomed concession. “I’ve been in foster care ever since.”
“And that’s been better, right?”
Please don’t let her tell me my actions made her life worse.
Was that even possible?
Jo shrugged. “I don’t have anyone trying to sell me for drugs, so I guess that’s a step in the right direction.”
“He went to jail, right? Your dad?”
She nodded. “Yeah. Mom’s in the crazy house and dad’s in jail. Certainly bodes well for me, huh? Guess that’s why I’m the dark shifter.” Jo tried to laugh at the end of her words, but it sounded dead. Lost. Empty.
“I wondered who called the police?” I asked. I didn’t want to talk about dark shifters and light shifters tonight. It didn’t matter really. Because whatever one of us went through, it was clear the other would feel to some extent. Neither of us would be completely dark or light again.
“I did. I was sitting in that car waiting for the man to show up. I knew from the moment we stepped on this road that’s why we were here. For some reason, they wanted us to see this happen. They wanted me to relive it. Then you ran out there, and I realized it was always meant to be you. They’ve been in our lives the whole time, Logan.”
My ribs ached.
“I was sitting there,” she continued, “knowing I couldn’t run in there myself. So, I helped in the only way I could. I used the pay phone down the road and called the police. I waited outside and carried you in here.”
I nodded. It made sense. She was always thinking ahead. But there was one thing she hadn’t figured out. “Jo?”
“Hmm?” she asked, edging back towards the door.
“I know why they sent us here. Why this memory is important.”
“Why?”
“So, I could know you. So, you could trust me. We’re partners. Maybe the people who are controlling this aren’t doing it to play with us. Maybe they’re trying to make us strong. Ready for what’s to come.”
Just as quick as the emotions left Jo, they returned. Her chin wrinkled up and her eyes slammed shut. She dropped the rope and brought both hands up to cover her face. Her fingertips pressed into her forehead, her knuckles turning white.
She was fighting it.
“Jo.”
She curled her fingers into fists. “Don’t try to justify them,” she spat out between her arms, her face impossible to see.
“I wasn’t trying—”
She yanked her hands from her face and looked straight at me. Enraged. “You were. You like things to have explanations. You need answers. Sometimes evil is just evil. Sometimes people just like making other people feel pain.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but she cut me off again. “I’ll never be normal. Never! I’ll always be this way. I am so thankful you saved me, but I can’t be happy to have to live this again. I live it every day. I’ll always be this freak. Stuck.”
“That’s not true.” Maybe it was. I didn’t know.
Her anger was soon replaced by defeat. She walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. She didn’t speak. She pulled her hands inside the sleeves of the robe. When she looked back at me, I was startled to see her look scared. Truly frightened.
“What is it, Jo?”
“I think I like him. Ben. I think he likes me too,” she said quietly, turning her face from me again.
I swallowed hard.
“I’ll never have what you and Jenna have.”
“You don’t want what we have. Remember? It’s not honest or something.”
Jo shook her head slowly. “What would I know? I’ve never been in a relationship. I watch people in relationships and read books. That’s all I can base my conclusions on. But I don’t want to be alone. I wish this wasn’t another thing my father could take from me.”
It killed me to say this. I didn’t like Bentham. He was cocky. He didn’t deserve her. But she liked him. And I would watch out for her. “Why don’t you tell Bentham? Be daring. Try an actual date before you ship yourself off to a nunnery. I’m sure he’d say yes. You two do talk like every minute of every day. Right?”
“It won’t ever mean anything. I can’t even wear a damn short sleeve shirt without panicking. Eventually, things will get...intimate.”
“If he’s worth anything, he won’t push you.”
“I know he won’t. But maybe I need to push myself. I’ve never told him about these things. I never told you, and you’re pretty much the only friend I have. If I can’t trust you, the person destined to my partner, how can I ever even hope to kiss a boy without wanting to throw up?”