“Look, I’m going to be black and white here, all right?” His eyes flashed. “You don’t have a choice. You need us, mate. Me and O. You need our help. There is nothing wrong with that. It doesn’t make you weak. It doesn’t make us hate you for asking for help. But it does get old when you constantly fight the help we’re trying to give you.”
I had no reply. I stared at him dumbfounded.
The first time Justin had shown a spark of temper and he’d put me in my place like a kick to a barking dog.
He sighed, shrugging. “Sorry, but that’s the reality of the situation. You have no choice but to lean on us, all right? The other shit? It doesn’t matter. It’s all in the past.” His long legs ate up the pavement, his back ramrod straight. “Just focus on getting better. The rest we’ll figure out.”
I wanted to argue. To tell him I would figure this out without him, but fresh air licked over my skin as we strode through the door and into the night sky, and reality smashed me in the face.
I was lucky.
So fucking lucky to have people who hadn’t given up on me, no matter what sort of bastard I’d been.
Relief tried to worm under my overwhelming guilt.
I would never take freedom for granted. I would forever be in Justin’s debt. But I also couldn’t justify his sacrifice.
Why had he put so much on the line after only a troubled year of friendship?
Who did that?
Who was that selfless?
O.
O is that selfless...and so is Justin.
Two similar people who’d been lumped with the unlucky job of looking after me.
My teeth ground as self-hatred wormed through my chest. “You’ve given me time, Miller, and for that I’m terribly grateful. I will cherish every moment I have with Olive, I’ll do my best to repair what I did to O, and I’ll figure out a way to pay you back, but you can’t keep doing this. I’m not your responsibility. I know I listed you as Olive’s godfather but I don’t expect you to adopt her if this all turns to shit. Don’t feel like you’re trapped just because I am.”
He closed the gap between him and his parked car. Resting his hand on the roof, he scowled. “You’re a friend, Gil. Friends help out.”
“There’s helping out and then there’s being too fucking generous.”
“Look, I put myself in your shoes. I thought about how shit I’d feel being locked up when my daughter is too young to take care of herself. I don’t know a hell of a lot of what you’ve been going through, but I know it hasn’t been easy.” He unlocked the black sedan, cracking open the door. “I’m still waiting for that explanation, by the way. But in the meantime, just accept it for what it is. Despite all your efforts, you actually have two friends who care about you. You should be with them until...” His eyes flickered away.
“Until I’m sentenced.”
“Pretty much. Yeah.” He waited until we’d both slipped inside, and I’d puffed with pain to fasten my seatbelt.
He asked softly, “Do you know when they’ll call you to court?”
I shook my head. “They didn’t say.”
He started the car and shoved it into gear. “It can sometimes take months for a hearing.”
Staring out the window, I didn’t reply as my gaze landed on a small group of people with placards walking down the road to the police station in the dark. Streetlights highlighted a banner linked between the two women walking in front.
A banner that said, ‘Gilbert Clark deserves the death sentence.’
My heart stopped beating.
The placards all depicted paint splashes and pictures of the girls who’d worn my colours and who’d died because of it.
The family of the murdered.
“Shit,” Justin muttered as he stomped on the accelerator and shot in the opposite direction.
Yep, shit.
The world was out for blood.
And I was at their mercy.
Chapter Thirteen
______________________________
Olin
UNKNOWN NUMBER: O, it’s Gil. I’ve typed, deleted, and retyped so many messages to you, but none of them sound right. No amount of apologies will be enough. No number of thank yous will ever come close. So...I’ll keep it simple. I’m back home. I saw you arrive at the hospital today with Olive as I was driven away by the police. I tried to get in touch but was refused. I don’t know what the staff told you, but I was officially arrested, booked, and granted bail. Anyway, I just wanted to say, you’re free to travel now. I can look after Olive and figure out another scenario for her before my court date. I’m desperate to see her. Tomorrow, I can pick her up or you can drop her off. Either way, I’m extremely grateful to you for looking after her.
I re-read Gil’s message ten times, sipping on a glass of cheap supermarket wine, glancing at my bedroom door to make sure Olive stayed asleep and none the wiser.
I’d never had a message from Gil before.
The novelty sent shivers down my spine.
A teenage reaction to flirting and fun when neither of those options was real.
The wine was to settle my fear over what’d happened to him. After seeing him being driven away in a police car and being turned away at the hospital because he’d been discharged, I’d hid my own concern to protect Olive. I’d taken her to the library and checked out whatever books she wanted—mainly sketching and painting workbooks—and done what I could to distract her.
After a week of living with her, I’d grown used to her triggers.
Her bravery was sometimes far too good. She could laugh and joke and seem like any normal child her age. However, there’d be a moment. A fleeting second when her guard would drop and I’d see the truth. The worry over being in public if I’d gotten too far away from her. The bitten lip if a man walked toward us on the street. The jumpiness if someone came up behind us unannounced.
The fact she could hide her true fears as well as Gil drained me because my instincts took over—just like they had when doing my best to help Gil through his secrets.
My brain told me to give her space—to watch but not hover, to accept that time would heal her from the worst of being held hostage—but my heart wasn’t interested in giving her space or letting time heal her. My heart wanted to cure her. It wanted her laughter to be true and not some carbon copy of joy. It wanted her to be able to stroll down a supermarket aisle and not freeze in panic if I wasn’t there.
I sighed.
Poor thing.
But at least, she had her father back.
She could go home now.
She could bask in normalcy until Gil was summoned for trial.
Saving his number into my phone, I typed a reply.
Olin: I’m glad you’re back at home. Did everything go okay with the police? I can drop Olive off tomorrow around mid-morning if that works. She’ll be beyond happy to be home with you. She’s really missing you.
I inhaled sharply as I pressed send. I didn’t want to go to his warehouse. I still wasn’t prepared to enter the place where Gil had painted me. But I equally didn’t want him in my space, either.
Dropping Olive off was the best choice because I could leave straight away. If he came here, he might stay...he might try to talk.