But nothing.
He was just a man.
Nothing more.
Silence fell for a second, filled with noise from the crowd, then Katie’s voice piped up. I’d completely forgotten she was still here. “I’ll leave you guys to chat.” She leaned past Gem to swap her now empty champagne for a fresh glass. “I think I saw Tiff over there. I want to ask her how she’s finding her new climbing shoes before I drop three hundred dollars on Zopaz.”
“Zopaz?” I asked Gem as Katie ducked through the crowd.
“It’s a climbing brand.” Gem pulled away, her eyes searching mine, trying to figure out how I’d shaken Tony’s hand without punching someone. Clearing her throat, aware we couldn’t have a private conversation just yet, she added, “They’re not cheap, but so worth it.”
“You have a sponsorship with Zopaz, if I’m not mistaken?” Tony asked, refusing a beer that the barkeep passed his way.
Gem nodded. “Yes. I was lucky enough to be offered a partnership with them a few years ago, which means I have way too many climbing shoes and obviously earn royalties every time I mention them in my videos.”
“And how is ad revenue going for you?” Tony cocked his head, looking more business-focused. “We keep an eye on your click rates, and shorter ads definitely convert better than longer ones—especially if that product has anything to do with outdoors, physical fitness, or healthy lifestyles.”
“I can’t complain at the income YouTube pays me.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Tony beamed as if he was the one who personally paid Gemma. And who the hell knew, perhaps he was. Was this her boss technically? All this online stuff made my head pound as much as a fresh concussion.
Tony turned to me, sending a whisper of anxiety down my spine even now. Even after my breakthrough. “So, Kas, I’m not sure if my PA has tracked you guys down yet, but the idea of the evening is we’ll introduce you to a bunch of people who we believe can be instrumental in launching a highly successful channel for anyone who has been trafficked—actual victims, families of victims, and anyone who’s got their own story—then, if you’re open to it—forgive me for not mentioning it via email—but we’d really like you to take five minutes out of your night and make a speech to all who are gathered here. Some hefty donators are in the crowd and they’re always looking to invest in goodwill projects.”
A roar sounded in my head.
Pain pressed on my temples.
Any peace I might’ve felt vanished.
All I heard was I had to whore myself out to men and women with fat wallets, giving up pieces of myself yet again so they would give me something in return. I had to dance, smile, and do whatever it took to make them like me.
Fucking hell.
White spots appeared on my vision. The room vanished for a few breaths. I let the whiteness smother me, then blinked it away, focusing on Gem.
She noticed I was borderline losing it.
She worried so much because of me.
But I didn’t want her to worry.
I wanted to be the man who made her happy not worry all the goddamn time.
I wanted to be the man I was just two seconds ago.
The man who could shake another man’s hand and not have a fucking panic attack.
Christ, what’d happened between now and then? Why did these mood swings keep happening? Couldn’t I just pick an emotion and stick with it, for fuck’s sake?
My nostrils flared as my temper grew hot.
I needed a drink.
I needed something to take the edge off before I completely destroyed any hope of being human in front of hundreds of people.
Spinning on the spot, I punched the bar. “Vodka. Neat.”
The barkeep nodded. “Coming right up.”
Gem rubbed my back, making me flinch. “Hey...Kas? Do you think it’s wise—”
“It’s very wise.” I grabbed the glass as the guy dropped a few fingers of liquor into it. “Don’t worry. I’ll be okay. I promise.” Tossing back the burn, I swallowed hard and bottled everything up. I shoved down my hopes, ignored my disappointments, and glared at Tony, who was watching me like I was a gorilla escaped from his cage.
“Kas, let’s go for a walk.” Gemma tugged my hand, her skin clammy with anxiety. “I need some air.”
Translation: you need some air.
But I was done being weak.
I’d come here to help others like me.
I’d come so kids crying in the dark, marked in bruises, and craving death wouldn’t have to wait as long as I did before they were free.
I could find them.
Free them.
I could save them this fucking heartache of doubting their own minds, fearing their own nightmares, and wondering if they’d ever be completely sane.
But I wouldn’t do it their way. I wouldn’t be their puppet.
Pointing a finger in Tony’s face, I snapped, “I’ll make a speech if it will help the kids who are lost, but I’m not being paraded around like a piece of meat, do you hear me? I’m not shaking hands. I’m not going to pretend I’m cured and that any of this is fucking easy. It’s not. Nothing about this is easy. Trying to live again after waiting to die? Believing you should be able to slot back into society, only to come face-to-face with the heartbreaking truth that you’re different now. You’ve changed and might never change back. You realize, against your wishes, that you’re not like the others who have never been touched by darkness. You’re still fucking lost even though you’ve been found.”