Free The Forgetting by Nicole Maggi

room.
    â€œYeah. Tea would be great. Thanks.” I followed slowly, running my fingers over the edges of the furniture I passed. With each touch, a new memory of this place blossomed. Laughter. Warmth. Safety . This had been Jane Doe’s refuge.
    Nate pulled two mugs down from the cabinet and filled them with water from the water cooler against the wall. “Black or herbal?”
    â€œHerbal, please.” I perched on the table closest to the kitchen. “Do you, like, work here?”
    â€œSort of.” He put the mugs in the microwave and set it for a minute. “I volunteer for FAIR Girls. They run a chapter out of here.”
    â€œWhat’s fair girls?”
    â€œIt’s an organization that helps trafficked kids.” He pointed to a poster on the wall. “TRAFFICKED CHILDREN ARE HIDING IN PLAIN SIGHT,” it read beneath a picture of a young girl surrounded by shadowy adults. “FAIR GIRLS” was emblazoned in yellow across the top.
    â€œTrafficked? Like—”
    â€œSex trafficking? Yes.”
    The microwave dinged. I watched him take the mugs out and dunk a tea bag into each. When he turned and held a mug out to me, I took it and our fingertips grazed. My heart jumped a little, but who the hell knew if it was my own reaction or Jane Doe’s?
    â€œI, um, didn’t realize that happened here in Boston.”
    â€œA lot of people don’t.” Nate half smiled. “That’s a lot of what FAIR Girls does. Educate the public.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “I’d like a little education here. You still haven’t told me your name.”
    It seemed odd that he didn’t know when I knew everything about him. I took a sip of tea and let its heat burn through me. “I’m Georgie.”
    â€œOkay, Georgie.” He was watching me over the rim of his mug but I kept my eyes trained on the floating tea bag in my own cup. “What the hell is a Beacon Hill girl like you doing on this side of town?”
    I lowered my mug. “I’m from Brookline , not Beacon Hill.”
    Nate shrugged. “Same difference. What are you doing here?”
    I swallowed. I wasn’t about to tell him the whole truth, but I wanted whatever clues he had about Jane Doe’s life and death. “I was looking for…the other girl. The one who used to work that corner before Char.”
    A shadow darkened Nate’s face. “Why?”
    â€œI just wanted to…find out about her.” I swallowed hard under his intense gaze.
    â€œWhat for?”
    My hands tightened around my mug. “Why are you getting so defensive?”
    â€œWhy are you so interested?” Nate shot back. “FAIR Girls is here to protect these girls.”
    â€œWell, you certainly failed in her case,” I said, banging my mug down on the counter. My tea had gone cold.
    â€œWhat’s that supposed to mean?”
    I froze, looking at him. Did he not know? I stood there, unable to move or even breathe. Nate’s brow furrowed. “Georgie? Are you okay?”
    The sound of him saying my name softened something in me. I sank into the closest chair and raised my face to him. “You don’t know, do you?”
    â€œKnow what?”
    I tasted tears in my mouth. “Nate, I’m so sorry. She…she’s dead.”

Chapter Seven
    Nate fell back against the kitchen counter. “What? When? How?”
    â€œA few weeks ago. She…fell. From a balcony not far from here.” I had to look away from him to say the next words. “They say it was suicide.”
    Nate’s body seemed to crumple. He turned away from me and bent over the counter, his face buried in his hands. I kept my eyes averted and picked up my cold tea. I barely knew him; it seemed way too personal to watch him cry.
    After a few minutes, I heard him clear his throat. He moved closer to me and dropped into the chair closest to me. His eyes were red-rimmed but dry