Page 18 of Two For the Show
She’s not that old, but from what I know of her story, she’s lost two partners. That would age anyone. I don’t begrudge her wanting to slow down and take it easy after such a hard life.
“Is that what that mystery appointment was about?”
She nods sadly. “Yeah, I was meeting with a potential buyer. I was going to negotiate for you to stay on, if you needed it, but you can’t anymore. You can’t stay here, Lexi.”
“I know.” Those two words take a lot out of me to admit. It’s a weight off my chest, but bile still rises in my throat at the danger I know I’m going to bring to their doorstep.
“You’re scared. You feel guilty for leaving. And your life certainly isn’t fixed because one threat is eliminated. I know that. But it’s time for you to face the carnival music.”She chuckles at the joke. “Let’s make a plan to get you where you belong. You’re sick, you’re unsafe, and more than all of that, you’re sad. You think you’re hiding it, but you miss them.”
Of course, I miss them.
Dario’s hidden depths. Quinton’s goofy company. Matteo’s soothing sweetness. Jude’s strength and protection.
I even miss Dexter’s grumbling and general moodiness.
But if I go back to them, I’m putting them in danger. I know that. It’s selfish.
Like she can read my mind, Sylvia pats the back of my hand before standing up. “It’s time to be a little selfish, Lexi. Let’s go get you packed up.”
I stareat the two beat-up suitcases that Sylvia is loading into her equally run-down car. The ones I had with me when I knocked on the door of Jude’s trailer.
“You don’t have to drive me,” I say again, feeling bad for putting her out like this. The spot the circus is at is eight hours from here, in the opposite direction from where she sent Tripp.
“How else are you going to get there? I’m not letting you take a bus and risk getting recognized by someone.”
I blow my newly trimmed bangs out of my eyes. I still don’t love having them, but they make me harder to recognize, just like the black dye job does. “But you’ll be driving for sixteen hours round trip. You’ll not be able to open the cart up tomorrow.”
She rolls her eyes. “So I’ll lose a day in the cart. At least I’ll get to see for myself if those boys deserve you. Now, get in the car.”
The drive is relatively uneventful. We got moving early enough on a weekday that we don’t hit much traffic, and we only stop twice. Once to refill gas, once to grab coffee and eat.
When we pull up to the edge of the fairgrounds, where that familiar striped tent looms ahead of me, my stomach clenches.
“I don’t know if I can do this, Sylvia,” I say quietly.
“You can, and you will.” She eases her car down the flattened grass pathway that leads toward the trailers. Acid rises in my throat, my skin grows hot, and I feel like I’m about to explode.
“Stop the car,” I wheeze, clutching at the door handle. “Please, I need to get out.”
She slows to a stop, and I throw open the door, tumbling out of the car and onto my hands and knees, hurling into the grass. Nerves and FOS have combined to leave my elbows shaking, my fingers digging into the dirt.
“Can I help you?”
The words immediately soothe the ache in my stomach. I can’t see him, but I can smell the salty, sweet taffy scent of Jude Oliver. The meager suppressants in my system can’t hide that.
A needy, pained whine escapes me, and I hear heavy footfalls rush around the car. Maybe Sylvia pointed him toward me, maybe he was drawn to me the way I am to him, but it doesn’t matter one bit when I’m gently lifted by his massive hands and clutched to his expansive chest.
Immediately, tears track down my face, and I bury myself into his neck.
“I’m sorry,” I whimper, unable to stop myself from inhaling his scent deeply. “I’m so, so sorry, Jude.”
“It’s okay, Omega,” he says softly, petting my hair. “Welcome home.”
Chapter 8
She’s here.
Dexter’s plan worked.
