Mom plopped back down on the seat. “What?” Her whispered word was covered in hurt.
I finally looked at her, and my ribs constricted and took a pounding with the disappointment hanging in her eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
I was sorry. All the damn time. For the year in jail. Sorry for what I did at Hopper’s. Sorry for what I put Mom and Tim through. Sorry for falling into the same trap as my dad. My heart hit against my chest hard, and my skin felt too tight, just like always whenever I thought about him.
When I got out of jail, I vowed to do right by my family, to make up for my mistakes. Instead I was doing exactly what I had done before: following orders. It clicked into place then, what I needed to do. How to make things right. How to protect my family. How to show my brother that I was better than he thought. How to save what little sliver of dignity that hadn’t been stripped away.
How to escape Vance’s control.
I cleared my throat. “I’ll make it right. I promise.”
I never stopped thinking about Mom and Tim while in jail. It was hard not to let my mistakes fester, to kick myself for letting them down when I was surrounded by the reminders of my shortcomings on a daily basis. I couldn’t take those things back, but maybe I could give them a clean slate. Away from me.
Tim stood up and walked over to the sliding door where our tiny balcony stood. The view wasn’t much. Just gray buildings and a parking lot full of rusted and broken-down cars.
I stared at the squared shoulders and clenched fists of my brother, and I knew I was just like my father—a disappointment. It cemented my decision.
Mom pushed back her chair, face contorted in anger. “What were you thinking?” she hissed.
I pulled my arms back from the table and stared at the roll of paper towels at the center, preparing myself for the onslaught coming my way.
“After everything? How could you? You said you were out, Corey!” Mom raged. “What would your nana think?”
I closed my eyes at the mention of my grandfather, Mom’s dad. The man who tried to do his best by us after Dad died. Nana passed away when I was twelve, before I went to X for a job. And I was glad he wasn’t alive, because sometimes I thought that if he had lived to see what I had become it might have been the death of him.
“Don’t.” I ground out the words, “Don’t bring him into this. I was only thinking about keeping you alive, Mom. That’s all I ever think about.” I pushed away from the table, chair scraping against the floor. I grabbed my plate and walked it to the kitchen sink, hands shaking. “It’ll be fine. Don’t worry.” I placed the plate down and grabbed ahold of the counter and focused on breathing.
I turned around and stared at my brother, his eyes wide with fear and sadness, and Mom’s shaking shoulders. This was my life. From the outside it didn’t appear to be a lot, but it was all I had and I’d be damned if I let anything happen to what little I had left.
I could handle going back to jail and sitting in a cell that was so cold it dug into my bones. The one that smelled like wet concrete and mold, where the only comfort I found was in knowing my family was safe.
“What do we do if you can’t fix this?” Mom wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and finally faced me.
“You will be taken care of, Mom. No matter what. I’ll make sure of it.”
I grabbed my bike and exited the apartment. Mom and Tim didn’t try to stop me. They’d be okay. They had Stan now. That gave me some solace.
Everything comes with a price. It took longer for me than most to realize the cost: freedom.
We struggled after Dad died. We had nothing, and the bills started to pile too high. So I did the only thing I could think of—I went to my dad’s old boss for a job. Even at fourteen, I didn’t take my responsibilities lightly. I knew in order to keep my family afloat I needed the job. I would succeed, unlike my father. And I did, for a while anyway.
I got comfortable with my way of life. That’s when the trouble began.
I rode my bike with heavy legs, making it hard to pedal. I hated riding the thing around, but after I went to jail I made my mom sell my car and use the money to help pay for the lawyer’s fees and other bills.
I took my time making my way around town, taking in the scents, the glare of the sun, letting myself feel all of it before it was too late. I stopped at the park and breathed in and out. Stared at the green, soaking it all in. Trying to memorize it all for later. By the time I was done, the sun was high in the sky and the heat of the afternoon made my sweatshirt cling to my back. I had to get going.
I pedaled faster, the wind whipping at my face, wanting to get it over with already. The closer I got, the more the fear made me numb against the decision I had made. That happened sometimes when I got scared. Instead of making me freeze, it propelled me forward, further into the darkness, digging me deeper into the hole of bad choices.
When I got to the slanted driveway, the fear was what I leaned on to give me the courage for what I had to do next.
TESSA
My feet ached after hours of standing. My shift at Dr. Ford’s vet office neared its end. I sat at the front counter, tapping my pen against the check-in clipboard, watching the clock on the wall. I needed to get home and help Dad with the house damage. I managed to convince him not to cancel the rest of his trip. He made me promise to stay away from the house until he got back last night so he could assess the damage for himself. I hated leaving him that morning to do it all on his own, but he insisted that he was fine and that I shouldn’t call in sick.
“How you holding up?” Paige walked down from the back room where the animals were kept. She had doodie duty.
Paige gave me a look. “You were thinking doodie duty, weren’t you?” Her flat expression only made the laughter bubbling in my chest pop out of my mouth. Paige rolled her eyes. “You are such a child sometimes,” she huffed.
I held the clipboard up against my mouth, hiding my wide smile. “Oh, please, don’t act like you weren’t the one who came up with it.”
Placing an elbow on the counter, I shifted my weight to my left leg because my right ankle was still a little sore from the other night. Paige walked back to the sink and washed her hands, and I went to the computer to check our patient list for tomorrow. I’d already called in reminders to everyone, but Paige had to send out texts to those who had signed up to receive them.
After I got done with the checklist, I went back to staring at the front door and rolling a pen back and forth on the counter. I couldn’t wait to get home and shower and wash the smell of wet dog off my skin. Not that I was complaining—I loved working at the vet office. It gave me the opportunity to interact with animals, my main passion after biking, and to learn more about being a veterinarian. Sheila Ford was an excellent mentor. Her love for her job got me excited about my own future.
Grabbing my phone out of my pants pocket, I checked my messages for the umpteenth time.
No text from Dad. I had asked him if I could bring anything home to eat for lunch and he hadn’t responded. I fidgeted with the screen before typing out another message.
Dad???? FOOD???
It was very unlike him to not respond when the possibility of takeout was an option.
A soft meow caught my attention, and I glanced down the hall to the row of patient rooms in time to catch Mr. Morrison walking out with his fat gray cat, Barry. Dr. Ford trailed out behind him, her black dreads up in a ponytail.