“What, like a ward?” Penny asked suddenly, the anger ringing out in every word. She glanced over at Naz, her brow pinched when she demanded, “Does she mean like a place they put me in overseas? Another hospital or—”
“That’s not going to happen,” Naz told her.
His tone was firm.
Other than Roz, only Naz or the social worker—if her guardians weren’t doing their part in caring for her—could check her into another mental institution. She had to trust when he said it wasn’t on the table, but a part of her still didn’t believe it.
Penny still couldn’t help the heaviness settling in her chest or the ache in her heart. That vicious swell of anxiety threatened to drown her under the rush of waves crashing into her one after the other with no end in sight. The way her mood could go from bleak to terrifying in the span of seconds was sometimes disconcerting.
“I don’t wanna go back—”
“Penny,” Naz murmured, his hand cutting between them like he was drawing an invisible line there, “it’s not happening. It’s not.”
Right, right.
So, why didn’t her brain hear that, too?
Then, to the principal, Naz lost his friendly, willing-to-please facade when he said, “She’s not moving out of this school. I’ve already paid for her year—her graduation isn’t that far away. Her grades are passable. She’s kept up with online classes and the minimum classwork needed to stay above board. And what, because she won’t engage with people the way you think is acceptable, you’re willing to push her out altogether? Give me a fucking break.”
“Excuse me, just who do you think—”
“You know exactly who I am,” Naz muttered, standing from his chair and stretching to his full height. Penny quickly moved to follow. “What do you want—more money? I heard they’re looking to add to the gym facilities and upgrade current equipment. Send me a memo. A check will follow. In the meantime, make a little more space for Penny while she finishes her year here and without bullshit like this that wastes my time. She’s already been victimized enough outside of these walls. Let’s not add to it while we get her to graduation day.”
The principal gaped, silent.
Naz smiled again. “Anything else?”
“I ...”
“I’ll take that as a no. Penny, let’s go.”
“Okay,” she whispered, quickly scrambling around the chairs to follow after Naz. On their way out of the office, Naz snatched the phone from Penny’s hand without regard to her question of, “What are you doing?”
He plugged in a number, then handed it back saying, “If they give you any shit here after today, and you need somebody to get here fast, but Roz and I aren’t available, call Luca. That’s his number. He’ll drop everything and be here, okay?”
Penny quieted, glancing down at the new contact staring back at her. Naz didn’t miss it.
“You seemed okay with him—sorry, I didn’t mean to assume. Are you not?”
The empty corridor of the school leading away from the office echoed with their footsteps. She had to ask herself that same question while a warmth bloomed in her chest at the idea of having Luca available to her with nothing more than a phone call. It was almost enough to make her smile.
And that was crazy.
Dumb, even.
It certainly didn’t help that the guy made her tongue-tied just by being near, and that she didn’t even know why. Was she okay with it?
Confused more than anything.
Eventually, Penny muttered, “Yeah, it’s okay.”
Sort of.
“And thank you,” she added.
Naz frowned. “For what?”
“That. Back there with Tippens.”
He stopped walking. Penny turned to face Naz at the same time.
“I guess,” she said when he continued staring at her while saying nothing, “I’m still surprised you guys keep doing anything for me at all when I don’t do very much for you except ... be here. In the way.”
“You’re not in the way, for one. And don’t be surprised about shit. This is what we do for people we love, Penny. We take care of them. We take care of you.” He didn’t give her time to consider his words before he said, “Therapist appointment next, right?”
Penny nodded, her throat thick with an emotion she hadn’t expected. “Yeah.”
THERAPY WAS THE SAME as it always was which meant Penny zoned out the second she sat on the chair facing the windows. For a while, Dr. Tangler was willing to play along with her patient’s typical behavior, but then she asked a question that couldn’t be ignored.
“Are you willing to talk about your father today?” the therapist asked.
Penny snapped out of her haze in an instant. “Talk about what, specifically?”
“Well—”
“I did hours of victim testimony. Sat in front of cameras while I talked to detective after detective. And I know you were given access to all of it, so what exactly do you want me to say to you about him that I haven’t already said?”
Over her shoulder, she found the therapist staring back at her instead of down at the pad in her hands that she constantly scribbled notes throughout their sessions. What Penny would give to get a single peek at those notes even once.
What did the woman write about her?
What did she think?
Probably nothing worse than what Penny dealt with on her own. It couldn’t be.
“For those things,” Dr. Tangler replied, “you detailed the sexual abuse and circumstances of your situation over the years. I was thinking—”
“It’s all the same. Him. What he did to me. Nothing is different now.”
“How about his death, for starters. We could talk about that and if that’s had any—”
“He got what he deserved,” Penny said, a venom coating every single word. And she didn’t regret it, even when the doctor’s eyes widened at her patient’s outburst. “And he’s where he belongs, too.”
In hell.
She hoped he burnt there forever.
Turning back to the window, Penny ignored the sound of a pen scratching against paper behind her. She expected the woman to push the topic a little more—as if every other time Preston Dunsworth was brought into their sessions, and she refused to talk about it would change.
Instead, the therapist changed the subject. Entirely.
“How are things at home with Nazio and Rosalynn?”
Penny’s brow dipped. “Fine. Why?”
“I wonder if you’re happy there or if ... things have changed at all. I wanted to ask if you noticed anything that made you uncomfortable or that you might want to chat about with me while you’re here.”
That didn’t sit right.
Penny didn’t know why.
Red flag number one.
This was the first time the therapist ever asked about Naz and Roz in such a way. If anything, the doctor seemed to like the way Penny responded to her guardians and being in their custody. It wasn’t an issue.
Why was she searching for one?
“Has anything concerned you—maybe business within the home—with them?” the doctor asked. “Anything at all?”