Page 10 of Blossoming Dahlia

“Alright, you don’t need to take them. But you’ll probably have a rough time in the car without them,” I replied, standing up when I heard the bathroom door creak open. Hunter walked out to join us, his hair still damp from the shower.

“Either of you want to freshen up before we take off?” he asked, giving me a sharp once over. I rolled my eyes and grabbed my bag, rooting around for a new shirt. He was a stickler for appearances.

After a quick shower, we loaded up the car and headed back to the highway. Today at least the skies were clear, and we should be back home by late afternoon.

Chapter eight

Dahlia

Iknew I was being a stubborn brat, but I wasn’t going to numb myself up with those stupid pills and let the fear eat away at me. I told myself this over and over as I concentrated on breathing.Inhale calm, exhale the pain.It wasn’t fucking working though, and every bump in the highway felt like a knife stabbing into my skin. Asher insisted my stitches looked fine, but he said they’d have a doctor check them out when we got home.

Home.

I was getting more anxious the closer we got to the city. Hunter told me someone from his office had already reached out to Amanda and Josh, and that they’d be waiting when I got there. I just wanted to go back to my apartment, but I guessed we had to go to their offices first for paperwork and stuff. It was nearly August already—I’d been taken in mid-March, right before Josh and I’s six-month anniversary. We weren’t planningto celebrate officially or anything, but I’d been thinking we’d go out for dinner that night to mark the occasion.

I wondered what he’d been up to these last four months. Had he worried about me? Had he moved on? That thought should have stung more than it did, but I felt surprisingly… ambivalent? Maybe rational, I was being rational. I’d been gone nearly as long as we’d been dating. We hadn’t even said ‘I love you“. If he moved on, I wouldn’t blame him. Why wait around for a girlfriend who hadn’t even met your parents yet?

I hissed out a breath as we hit another pothole, and Asher glanced back at me. He didn’t understand why I wouldn’t just take the pain meds, and I didn’t have the energy to explain it to him. I managed to get some sleep last night at least. After I fell asleep during theShining, I had a lovely, dreamless sleep. It was the first time in a long time that I’d woken up feeling safe. So, of course my scars had to remind me that I wasn’t safe and I wouldn’t be as long as the man who’d caused them was caught.

“Nearly there now,” Hunter announced, merging off the highway, and I shifted, trying to find a position that didn’t cause me as much pain. I vaguely recognized the area surrounding their offices, I must’ve been around here at least one or twice since I moved from Seattle way back in my undergrad. Hunter and Asher both had to flash their badges before we were let into the parkade, and I pulled at the hem of my shirt nervously as he parked.

Gritting my teeth, I slid out of the car, careful not to twist too much. Asher appeared at my side instantly, his hand reaching out to steady me as I wobbled. I gave him a small smile, rubbing my arms anxiously as we headed toward the elevators.

“We’re okay for now, but sooner or later the press will find out you’re back home and try to contact you,” Hunter warned. “We’ll try to keep their harassment to a minimum, but you might want to think about doing an interview with one of the betternews channels eventually, just to get them to back off a bit.” I grimaced, absolutely hating the idea of doing an interview, but I knew he was right, it would have to happen at some point. I followed him off the elevator with Asher close at my side, and I felt the silly urge to hold onto his arm, but that wouldn’t be appropriate at all. Hunter led us to a medium-sized conference room and left Asher and I there, disappearing back down the hall. I remained standing, leaning against one of the tables for support. Asher leaned against the wall beside me, and I could feel his eyes sweeping over me.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly, and I nodded, gritting my teeth. I was far from okay, in fact it felt like my heart was going to explode right out of my chest. I wiped my palms on my sweatpants, trying to calm myself down with my deep breathing. I heard a sharp inhale and looked up, seeing Josh standing in the doorway. He’d cut his hair, and it looked like he’d gotten a new pair of glasses, but otherwise it was the same Josh.

I wasn’t prepared at all, my gaze darting over his face, remembering the features that had faded from my memory in my time away. I should be feeling excited right now, right? Relieved? I remembered thinking about all the things I wanted to do if I got out of that godforsaken room, but now I couldn’t remember if any of those things had involved Josh. I stepped toward him since he seemed to be frozen in the doorway, his face a sickly shade of white.

“Hi J.” I smiled, my voice faltering as it fought its way past the lump in my throat. I wished now that I’d bothered to do my hair or something, I must’ve looked horrific. He took a nervous step inside, then another, until he was right in front of me. I wrapped my arms around him in a hug as he stood there, shell-shocked. There was no warmth, no familiarity when I pressed against him. It was like hugging a stranger, and the thought stung.

“I... I never thought I’d see you again,” he mumbled, and I pulled away from him. Was it my imagination, or did he sound… guilty? I searched his face, but it was a mix of pain and fear and sadness, telling me nothing of value.

“I know, but I’m back now,” I offered, swallowing the tears that threatened to appear. This was not the reunion I’d been dreaming about in that dim little room, and I suddenly felt so desperately alone.

He took a step back, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I... you… you were gone, for… for months. I didn’t know… I’m sorry Dahlia.” I stepped toward him, frowning, and he took another step back, leaving the distance between us. What was happening here?

“Josh?” I managed to get out, frowning. He took another step back, smacking his shoulder into the door in his haste.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Dahlia, I really am. I’m sorry, I just… I shouldn’t be here, I don’t belong here. Good luck,” he stammered, and I stood dumbfounded, watching him backtrack and practically run back down the hall. My vision blurred with tears, and I blinked them away furiously, but a couple managed to escape and spill down my cheeks. This little rejection, after all I’d been through, was too much for my poor brain to handle.

“Jesus Christ, Dahlia I’m so sorry!” Oh god, and of course Asher had been here to witness that humiliating moment. I wiped the tears away quickly, taking a shaky breath.

“It’s fine, really. We hadn’t been dating that long anyway, it’s not like we were engaged or anything,” I told him breezily, but my traitorous voice cracked. His hand brushed my arm, warm and consoling, and I choked out a laugh. “I bet that’s a first though,” I mumbled, feeling a small bubble of hysteria building up in my chest.

“A first what?” he asked, drawing closer.

“I mean, how many times has a serial killer’s victim gotten dumped in an FBI conference room?” I laughed. “I have to be the first one ever right?” Was I shaking from laughter or panic? I couldn’t tell.

Asher chuckled, his hand moving to rub my back in a comforting way. “We could get a plaque to memorialize it. Put it up by the door,” he suggested, and another hysterical giggle burst out of me.

“DAHLIA!” I froze, and Asher’s hand dropped away from me quickly. I had time to process a mess of black curls before arms were wrapping around me, nearly lifting me off the ground.

“Careful, her stitches!” Asher admonished quickly, and my feet landed back on the floor, the grip on me loosening enough for me to see my friend’s face. Amanda had tears rolling down her face, smearing her makeup. I pulled her back against me, hugging her so tightly I felt my stitches pull in protest.This, this was what I’d missed. Josh might have felt like a stranger, but Amanda felt likehome.

“Mandy, I’m so sorry,” I mumbled, closing my eyes as I breathed in her familiar smell, jasmine, coconut oil, and a hint of marijuana. I heard her click her tongue, pulling another laugh out of me, or was it a sob? My face was wet, and I realized I was in fact crying, the tears pouring down my face.

“You havenothingto be sorry about,” she snapped, pulling out of the hug but keeping her hands on my arms. “You know who will be sorry? That fucking bastard who did this to you. I will personally hunt him down and-” Asher cleared his throat awkwardly, and we both looked at him, Amanda’s eyebrows shooting up.

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