Carly didn’t lift her head. “Whatever happens, whichever way it goes, you leave and John’s still married to my mom. He lives with us at our house. And now he doesn’t have the painting. I don’t know what he was going to do before, but no matter what happens now, his plan is ruined.” She looked out her window, her mouth working to keep steady under the threat of tears. “Because of me.”

“I really don’t think he’ll hurt you. Or your mother. I still believe that.”

“But what does that mean? What if you’re wrong? You won’t be there. I don’t even know if he’ll be there, or if he’ll come back at some point. What am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to say? What about my mom? She must be freaking out right now.”

Marcelline cast around in her suddenly empty head for something that sounded reassuring. That’s what she was supposed to do as the grown-up, as a woman speaking to a child. But fatigue was sand in the gears. She couldn’t think. “I don’t want you to worry. Whatever happens, nobody’s going to leave you to figure this out by yourself. Okay? I promise. You’re not going to get dropped off without a plan. It won’t happen.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“We’ll think of something.” Marcelline turned into a strip mall with a big drugstore for an anchor. “I promise. Okay?”

“Okay.”

•  •  •

Marcelline felt like a traitor to women everywhere. It didn’t matter what she looked like. This was bigger than that. Owen’s want shouldn’t be a tool for her to use.

But she remembered the fear pounding through her when she ran away from him four years ago. All she’d had was flight that day. Every other option had been trimmed away.

His suspicion was dangerous. His weak point was terrifying. Owen had never left her with the impression that disillusionment was anything he’d be willing to float for very long.

Whatever came after disappointment, and how soon, or for how long, or to what end, she didn’t want to find out. Not then. Not now.

This time she had the truth and the Flinck to try to soothe him. But she didn’t exactly look as she did before. She watched her scar flex in the mirror under the flickering fluorescent lights of the drugstore’s restroom. She’d bought a few things to cover up the days of adrenaline and far too little sleep. She washed her face and set to work.