After Lori was cald down, I was determined to find Kristen and figure out what in the hell was going on with her. While I felt for the fact that being stuck in the house can really make a person stir crazy, she had really crossed so lines, and she had to understand that it was never going to be okay with for her to treat my family, or anyone I cared about, the way she had just treated Lori.
Once enough ti had passed that I felt like tensions should have at least begun to subside, I walked around the house until I found Kristen. She was standing at the doors to the deck, staring out at the backyard with her arms crossed.
"Hey," I called to her.
"Please don’t co talk to only to make feel bad. I already feel like sh*t, okay?" she groused.
"Well, that isn’t my only goal," I began lightly. Her face turned to look at . I gave a little shrug. "I want to know what’s going on with you. Clearly, sothing is wrong."
Kristen shrugged and looked back outside. "I don’t do well feeling caged. That’s how I feel here. Like a feral animal left in a cage too small. That may not make any sense, since this is a mansion, but I can’t help how I feel."
I frowned and put a hand on her shoulder. "While I can’t wrap my head around all that you’ve gone through, I can be empathetic to not liking the sensation of feeling trapped. Just rember that it isn’t forever. Try not to make this ti too horrible for yourself, you know? Find things to keep yourself busy."
She snorted and averted her gaze even more. "What am I supposed to do? Scrapbook like those two? No. That isn’t ."
"I’m not saying you have to do what they do. You don’t even have to hang out with them. Just find sothing that makes the passage of ti a little less boring. A little less painful," I corrected.
She let out a bitter laugh. "How can ti be any less painful?" she asked . When I didn’t imdiately have an answer, her head turned to . Her eyes burned intensely. "Every mont that is spent idly laying around this house is a mont wasted. I get that Marcus and Ed can do what their jobs are remotely and from laptops, but that’s not how I operate. I need to be out there—I need to be talking to people. The more people I talk to and the more ground I cover, the more girls are saved."
"You’re concerned about not doing enough for the movent?" I asked, just trying to clarify what her point was.
"I’m saying any amount of ti that isn’t putting a dent in the stack of nas of won that are being trafficked being freed, or their handlers being arrested, is ti wasted. I’m here wasting ti, and for what? To protect my own life? There are thousands and thousands of lives out there, waiting on soone like to go intervene in their own personal hell. I know because I’ve been there."
Her voice was gravely serious, and her hands clenched behind her back.
"Why do I deserve to play pretend and act like it isn’t happening when they don’t get that luxury?" she asked.
It was all becoming clear to then. Kristen wasn’t stir crazy because she was bored—it was because being trapped inside kept her from her purpose. Kristen’s only passion, goal, and thought, was how to network, search out, and help the won that were being sold, traded, and bartered in the human trafficking world. She was tense because she hadn’t been doing anything for her cause—a cause that she would lay her life down on the line for—for weeks.
Her bitterness toward myself and Roman was beginning to click into place in my head. It didn’t have to be rational for it to be real for her. As far as Kristen was concerned, she was a superhero who had been asked to hang up her cape until further notice to protect a tiny percentage of the lives she normally saved.
I gave her shoulder a little squeeze. "I think it’s beautiful that you want to help so much. You are really a caring and giving soul. It makes sense you feel the way you do, and I think you would be hard pressed to find anyone that had been in your shoes that you would disagree with," I began.
I pursed my lips before continuing. I was nervous I would do nothing but offend her.
"But, you can’t be a savior every mont of the day. You need to reserve so ti for you and just to be happy. Like I said, you don’t have to do what they were doing. You can find your own hobbies and things that bring you joy."
Kristen didn’t look convinced.
I pressed on. "If you continue to pour yourself into everyone else, you’ll have nothing left at the end of the day for yourself. You need to do so self-care."
It was then that I noticed the tears stinging her eyes. "I don’t know how," Kristen admitted. "I’ve only ever been property or freeing others who are seen as such. I don’t know how to enjoy or do anything else. Even my night out with you was just a way for to work on things. Does that make a bad person?"
"Of course it doesn’t," I assured her. "We all just have to start sowhere."
"I don’t know where to start," she frowned.
"Well, I’m going to make and decorate so cookies," I suggested. She looked at like I grew a second head. I gave a little shrug. "Other than the investigation, I don’t have much going on, either. This is my way of keeping busy. So, do you wanna join?"
After only a little hesitation, Kristen nodded.
Together, we moved into the kitchen and began the process of making the dough. I read the recipe from the website and let her take charge of adding things to the bowl. While we had a stand mixer that would have taken the work out of mixing the ingredients, I left that detail out and handed her a whisk. I figured it would be good to help her get so of her frustration out. And it seed to work.
Once the dough was made and set, we began the fun part. Rolling out the dough into sheets, we took the variety packs of cookie cutters I had ordered online and cut out shapes. There were pumpkins, snown, bows, bats, dogs, and the works. We slid the shapes into the oven, layered on parchnt paper and watched them like little girls as they spread out and hardened in the oven. I got the understanding that neither of us had ever baked a day in our lives. We were both nervous, confused, but excited.
We took the pans out and admired our work. So were wonky and fat, others were a bit too golden, but we were oh so proud of our creations. We giggled at our foolish looking attempts, but we were proud! I had never made anything like these before, and they appeared to be edible and a little cute. All they were missing were the final touches.
By the ti we were busting out the piping bags of various colors of icing, Kristen was smiling and Roman was wandering in on a break from work. He looked delighted at the scene he had walked into.
While I had discovered more than once he was a great cook, I was soon to learn he was a disaster when it ca to baking. Even sothing as simple as icing cookies.
I had to admit, though, it was f*cking adorable. He had the sa childlike giddiness to him that Kristen and I did. It made feel so full, warm, and nostalgic.
I was nostalgic for the tis unfolding right in front of . I knew they would be mories I cherished forever.
We all took to the task of designing our cookies. They were turning out to look horrible, but we were all kidding around and goofing. Roman turned to stick a cookie to my face which was covered in black icing. However, I put an arm up to block him. He lost his balance and knocked over the tray of cookies that were complete.
Icing, dough, and cutters went everywhere.
Kristen and I were in stitches, almost unable to breathe.
As I caught my breath, I found myself delighted at how the day had turned around. Even if things were never going to be perfect, we could always, and I an always, make the most out of it.
There was sothing to be said about that. Or maybe the smile that seed to be attached to my face, said it all.
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