Page 55 of Hiding for the Holidays
Asher
Everyone is silent for the entire forty-five minute ride back home. I’m dying to ask Clara a million questions, but I just want to get her home safe.
I keep glancing behind us, making sure we’re not being followed. I want to hold her but I can’t sit still. I’m dying to get my hands on the guy. Even from the other side of the rink, I could tell he was hurting her. And the fact that he had his dirty hands on her to begin with makes my blood boil with rage.
I’m dreading the conversation, but I’m hoping she realizes it’s time to tell us the full extent of what’s going on. There is no way for us to protect her properly if she doesn’t.
When Leo pulls into the driveway and switches the engine off, Clara reaches for her door, but I grab her hand and tug her gently towards me. “Come out this door.” She frowns but obeys, soothing the part of me that needs to take care of her without explanation.
I help her down then wrap my arm around her as my head constantly swivels to take in our surroundings, looking for threats.
Grant unlocks the front door, and I guide her inside. We all remove our winter gear, and I grab her hand again, leading her to the living room and guiding her to sit in the middle of the couch. I take a seat on the coffee table, right in front of her as Grant and Leo sit on either side of her.
I lean towards her, resting my forearms on my knees as I press my fingers together and watch her nervous face.
“Clara, we want to help you. But you’re going to have to do some explaining. We need details.”
She nods her head as she nervously eyes all of us.
“Well, to start, my name isn’t Clara Wolf. It’s Rosalie Ralston.”
My eyes widen in shock. I had not expected that.
“Who’s Clara?” Leo asks as she turns to him.
“I made her up, I needed a fake ID. I chose the name Clara because I love Christmas and it’s from the Nutcracker, and Wolf is from the Tenth Kingdom, my mom and my favorite movie.”
My brows furrow as I try to piece things together. She arrived in this town with a fake name and bruises all over her body. We knew it had been from an ex, but I didn’t actually realize she was in hiding.
“You’re on the run from him,” I say, getting her attention back on me. “Why? He hurt you, why didn’t you go to the police?”
“I tried,” she says, her hands fiddling with her sleeve cuffs nervously. “When they went to talk to him, he had bruises, too, and said he was just defending himself.” My brow furrows. “I swear I never hit him!”
I reach forward and grab her hand. “It’s okay, Clar—Rosalie.” Her name feels strange on my tongue, but I instantly decide it suits her better. “We know you didn’t. He was obviously manipulating the situation.”
She nods and licks her lips. “Are you mad?”
“Mad?” Grant asks.
“That I lied… about my name?”
“Of course not. You know you don’t have to hide anything from us now, right?”
She bites her lip nervously as she stares at Grant, then she nods once and lets out what looks like a breath of relief.
“I met him a few months after my mom had passed. I had been a bit depressed and felt really alone. But when Scott came into the picture, that changed. He was kind and nice, he brought me gifts and he helped to take care of me, to pull me from my depression. He constantly told me how pretty I was and how much he loved me.”
My eye twitches at the use of that word. She loved that asshole? I keep her hand pressed between mine, gently rubbing the back, as she continues her story.
“We moved in together after a couple months, but pretty quickly, he started to change. But it wasn’t instant. There were still a lot of moments of the sweet version of him, the one who would bring me flowers and compliment me. But the insults started to come out more and more. And I got the first glimpse of his anger.”
She stops to clear her throat, and Leo jumps up. “I’ll get you some water.”
“Thanks, Leo.” She waits until he comes back, passes her a big glass of ice water, and she drinks a third of it before continuing.
“The first time, he hit me in the side. I went to the police and… well, I told you how that went. When I got home, I expected him to be angry, but he was apologetic and said it would never happen again. He was good for a week, and I started to actually think he genuinely felt bad.”
“But he didn’t,” I say, making her look at me.
