Page 23 of Save Me
8
QUENTIN
It’shard to breathe in here. Seeing Vogue half naked in some pillock’s flat after we’ve had to track her down because she escaped through the fucking window like some kind of a cat burglar, I’m running on a potent cocktail of adrenaline and pure fucking fury.
The van is crammed with tension, and every jolt of the wheels against the road reminds me that we’re far from okay. Vogue’s plea hangs in the air, raw and ragged, tearing at something in my chest.
“Stop the car,” she begs again.
But Cal’s having none of it.
“We’re almost home,” he says instead with finality in his voice.
Home. Funny how that word doesn’t seem to fit anymore. Not when there’s a dead man’s blood on Vogue’s hands. Not when secrets are clawing their way out of the dark like monsters under the bed.
Vogue’s barely holding herself together. She trembles and has frayed nerves, and her eyes are hollowed out from fear or maybe disgust—at herself or us, I can’t quite tell.
I watch her from my corner, feeling like my heart’s being squeezed in a vice. It’s not just the blood on her hands – it’s what’s behind her eyes. A hurt that’s old and deep, something that makes me want to reach out even when everything inside screams to keep my distance.
“Please,” she whimpers. “This isn’t what it looks like.”
“No?” I grit out. “Because it looks a lot like you sneaking out to go and fuck some skeevy guy behind our backs.”
“No!” she says, finally meeting my gaze. “That’s not what happened. He was trying to blackmail me!”
“So, you thought fucking him would make that go away?” Thayer’s voice is like ice.
“No!” she roars, grabbing his shirt in her fist.
He glares at it and unpeels her hand from him. She chokes back a sob as he rejects her, and it makes my anger flee like she did out the window.
My heart is a dead weight, throbbing painfully against my ribs. I inhale deeply, trying to find the words, any fucking words that will undo this mess. But the truth is ugly and twisted, and it’s got its claws deep in my guts.
“We need to let her talk. Do you really think she’d risk everything we have for a quick fuck with some scumbag?” I ask Thayer.
“It doesn’t matter what I think,” Thayer snaps, his jaw clenched so hard I can see the muscle twitching.
Cal’s hand drops from the steering wheel, scuffing through his hair in frustration. He pulls over to the side of the road, earning himself a blast of the horn from the car behind us.
Whatever this is, we have to protect her.
“Let her speak,” I say firmly after what feels like an eternity, my voice slicing through the tension. “We need to hear her side.”
Vogue sucks in a breath like she’s been underwater and just surfaced. “I didn’t want you to find out this way,” she beginshaltingly, tears choking her words as they spill out between sobs. “I did what I had to do back in Westfield to survive. I s-s-sold myself for money to help pay rent and eat. I hated it, but it was quick money and didn’t take away from my studies. I’m sorry. I don’t blame any of you if you don’t want to touch me or even look at me again.”
My heart feels like she has gripped it in her fist and is squeezing tighter with each second that passes. My hurt for her, that she reached such a low point in her life that she felt this was the only way out and my fury at the fucker who tried to drag her back into that life. It’s all fusing together until I can’t tell one emotion from the other.
“Christ, Vogue,” Thayer murmurs, and there’s something like defeat in his voice. “Why didn’t you tell us before?”
“Because I was ashamed!” she spits out the word like it burns her tongue. “I didn’t want you to see me as that person. As a whore.” The last word is whispered, but it echoes in the van like a gunshot.
When he turns to her, Cal’s face is stone, and his eyes are ice cold.
“You think we’d care about that?” he says finally, voice rough. “You think we don’t have our own shit buried in the closet?”
I nod in agreement, feeling my own secrets clawing at me from the inside. This isn’t just Vogue’s confession; it’s a mirror held up to each of our lives.
Harry’s hand reaches out to hers, hesitant at first but then gripping firmly. “You have nothing to be ashamed about. Not with us.”
