Page 79 of Take Me to Church
"Piper’s with Tate." I should probably be worried about her too, but I'm not. She's not my priority right now and I know she’s in good hands. Even if she doesn’t realize it. "I'm sure she's okay."
Lydia lets out a little sigh, her smile coming back. "Good."
I hug her closer as I struggle to maintain my balance. "And I would have been proud of you no matter what happened."
Lydia curls closer. "I knew that, but I also wanted to be proud of myself. I wanted to show them I wasn't just going to lay back and accept what they were doing." Her expression falls, lips flattening in disappointment. "I do kind of wish I was the one who got to break Jeremiah's nose though." She lifts one shoulder in a little shrug. "I guess all that matters is he found out not all women will put up with his shit. Hopefully it will make him rethink his life choices."
I doubt it, but I don't want to ruin this moment for Lydia. It's clear whatever happened in that SUV has left her feeling empowered and in control, and I won't take that from her. I won’t letanyonetake that from her. "He’ll have plenty of time to think over lots of shit while he's in jail."
Lydia's eyes open wide, fixing on my face. "You think he’ll go to jail for this?"
The possibility soothes an old ache I expected to carry forever. "Oh yeah. All three of those motherfuckers are going to jail." Members of the IGL rarely face the consequences of their actions, but there’s no escaping this. I’ll make sure of it.
"I don't think so." Lydia's lips press into a frown. "Matthias works in the prosecutor's office. That's why my dad married Myra off to him. He wanted to make sure he stayed in the church so they could use him to stay out of trouble."
I reach the top of the hill, my steps stalling out on the shoulder of the road. "Matthias is that well-connected?" In the fifteen years I've been out, I haven't spent too much time looking back—watching what the IGL was doing in my absence. It was too painful, especially after what happened to my sister.
The group had always been tight knit and members protected each other, which is how I assumed my sister's husband got away with what he did. He claimed what happened was an accident and everyone else backed him up, filling in any blanks until her death was explained away. It never occurred to me they might also have someone working within the system, but that explains why all my calls and pleas for justice were blown off and ignored.
Lydia's jaw goes slack, eyes wide and clear as they meet mine. "They can't hide this." Her hand grips the front of my shirt as the pitch of her voice rises in excitement. "They can't just make this go away."
I shake my head, smiling in spite of all that's happened in the past fifteen minutes. "No. They can't." I sag against my car, using it for support, keeping Lydia pinned to my chest as a level of relief I’ve never experienced steals my strength. "We've got cameras all over the street. Every bit of what happened is recorded."
There’s no one here to lie for them. No one to cover their asses. It’s finally time to pay for all they’ve done.
The sound of sirens carries through the air as Simon breaches the crest of the hill, carefully carrying a bruised and swollen Myra. Lydia straightens in my arms, focus snapping to her sister. I begrudgingly begin to set her down, knowing she’ll want to make sure Myra’s okay, but the second Lydia's foot touches the asphalt she cries out, her hold on me tightening as she gives me all her weight. "Shit. I forgot about my feet." She winces a little, curling one leg to take a peek at the sole of her foot. The skin is red and inflamed with lines of drying blood smeared across it.
"That looks like road rash." I straighten, glancing over the edge of the hill, questioning if I have enough time to make it down to get in a few good swings of my own before the cops arrive. But doing that would involve leaving Lydia's side, and apparently the thought of that carries more weight than whatever joy I would get out of knocking her brother and father's heads together.
"Here." Carefully balancing her weight, I wedge one leg under her ass so I can free up my hand enough to open the passenger's door and ease her into the seat before going back to dig my first-aid kit from the trunk. I kneel down in front of her, draping her feet over one bent knee as the first police cruiser arrives.
Lydia explains the situation to the collection of cops who continue to arrive as I clean her feet, doing my best to soothe her discomfort until the ambulance shows up. Unfortunately, Piper is in worse shape than Lydia, so when the medics arrive she’s the one loaded into the back so her clearly broken ankle can be stabilized. I don't leave Lydia’s side as she fills out statements and does her best to calm an inconsolable Myra. Once we can finally leave, I take both women to the hospital where Piper is being treated, insisting Lydia let them tend to her feet while we wait. Once she's bandaged up, we all pile into Piper’s curtained-off room, waiting for orthopedics to set the broken bone of her ankle.
The day wears on and after one adorable but particularly large yawn, Lydia turns to me while Piper and Myra doze. "You don't have to stay. I can call you when we’re done."
“Not happening.” I hold out the bottle of water I’ve been forcing down her for the past hour.
She takes it from me and swallows down an obliging drink. “I’m serious. I know you can’t be comfortable in that chair and—
I lean in, nose almost touching hers. "Sweetheart, you're going to be lucky if I let you out of my sight in the next six months.”
29
LYDIA
"I'M SO SORRY. I just couldn't ignore the call." Myra sits on Christian’s couch, wiping her eyes with the crumpled wad of tissues in her hand. "I thought it would be okay. I didn’t think I was on the phone long enough for them to ping it."
I pull her into my side, squeezing her shoulders as I prop the side of my head against the top of hers. "It's not your fault. You haven't done anything wrong."
This is what I was expecting Myra's escape to be like. Me comforting her. Reassuring her. Helping her get over all that happened. Her carefree attitude definitely threw me off at first, but now I hate that it's been stolen from her. Hate that she now feels the same sort of guilt I struggled with for so long.
Myra takes a shuddering breath, the inhale hitching as she fights for air. "It is my fault though. I know better. I know how they are and I still turned on my phone." Her face crumples, fresh tears sliding from the corners of her eyes. "But I just couldn't leave them hanging. Not when they want so badly to get away."
Christian stands in the kitchen, watching where Myra, Piper, and I sit together on the sofa, banged up and exhausted, but safe and relatively whole.
It's more than I can say for the other three occupants of the car, and that makes me smile.
"I understand." I wipe at her wet cheeks. I don't point out that we could have gotten her a new phone. Could have switched over all the numbers and she'd have been able to contact anyone she wanted without fear of being discovered. It will only make Myra feel worse and remind her that no matter how much she wants to believe she's ready to jump into this world with both feet, the water might be a little deeper than she thought.
