No wonder she’d been pushing my ass away.

  I flipped the matchbox through my fingers, remembering the night we’d built a fire with it a few weeks before my court date.

  “Everythin’ is gonna be fine,” I told her, tightening my arms around her waist. “But if I have to go to jail—”

  “Don’t say that,” she whispered, leaning her head back on my shoulder.

  “If I do,” I continued, giving her a squeeze, “Curt will look out for you.”

  She stiffened slightly. “I’ll be fine.”

  “I don’t want anyone to mess with you,” I said, resting my chin on the top of her head.

  She paused. “They won’t. You worry too much.”

  I remembered that little pause vividly.

  The little notes hadn’t started after I’d gone to prison. They’d started before and she hadn’t told me. She’d been too afraid of what I’d do.

  Kara hadn’t been keeping secrets since I got out. She’d been keeping secrets since before I’d left.

  Chapter 17

  Kara

  “You’re still on my shit list,” Rose said as she wrapped her arms around me from behind and rested her chin on my shoulder. “Even if you’re doing the dishes for me.”

  “But this moves me in the right direction?” I asked, only half joking.

  “We’ll see,” she said. “You’re just so pathetic right now. Being mad at you kind of feels like kicking a dog or something.”

  “I’m not sure if I’m more offended about the pathetic part of that or the dog part,” I replied, wrinkling my nose.

  “I’m sorry Draco’s being an asshole,” she said, her chin still resting on my shoulder.

  I thought about the look on Draco’s face. “He was actually really nice about it,” I replied.

  “Which made it even worse, I bet,” she said knowingly.

  “Yes,” I said, pausing. “If he was an asshole, at least I could’ve been mad!”

  Rose laughed and gave me a squeeze. “I hear that.”

  “I mean—” I stared at the pan in my hands. “I don’t really blame him? I don’t know. It just figures that when I was ready to fix shit, he was ready to be done.”

  “Men are idiots,” Rose said.

  “I can hear you,” my dad called from the table, “and so can your sons.”

  “My sons won’t be idiots because I’m teaching them different,” Rose replied snottily.

  “Mama!” Jamison yelled at the same time from the living room. “Bwody fahted on me!”

  “You were saying?” I asked Rose drolly.

  “Okay,” Rose said, letting go of me. “Fart jokes are always funny, so that doesn’t count.”

  “Mmhmm,” my dad hummed.

  “Boys are gross, men are idiots,” Rose whispered with a laugh.

  “Still hear you,” my dad muttered. I looked over my shoulder at him.

  Rose turned and put her hands on her hips. “Could you go do something?” she asked him. “Because we’re trying to have some girl talk here.”

  “Do your thing,” he said with a wave of his hand.

  “He’s nosy,” Rose said to me.

  “He’s nosy?” I teased.

  “Hell,” she said with a huff. “I should have been nosier. I should’ve read your diary or something.”

  “I didn’t have a diary for that very reason,” I shot back. “Most of what I wrote down, I burned in the fire pit out back.”

  “I knew you were burning shit back there!” she said, her jaw dropping.

  I laughed as I leaned my butt against the counter and dried the last pan from dinner.

  “Thanks for doing that,” she said, taking the clean pan from me. “It’s nice to have the break.”

  “I help you,” my dad protested.

  “You’re not part of this damn conversation,” Rose snapped in irritation. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d stomped her foot. “And most of the time, you’re so tired when you get home that you pass out in your chair.”

  “I’ll give ya that,” my dad grumbled.

  “As much as I love listening to the two of you bitch at each other—”

  “This is friendly sparring,” Rose argued.

  “I need to get home. I have to work before anyone else in the world is awake.”

  “Except, you know, the people you’re making coffee for,” Rose said with a laugh.

  “Yeah, except those,” I said, tossing the towel at her. “We good?”

  Rose caught the towel and looked at me. “We’re always good,” she said seriously. “You know that. But I’m still pissed that you were getting bullied and terrorized and never said anything when we asked.”

  “That’s overstating it a bit,” I said quietly.

  “That’s understating it,” she shot back. “You were fucking stalked at that school.”

  “Well, I’m not there anymore,” I replied. “So you don’t have to worry.”

  “And they’re all adults now,” Rose said darkly. “If we run into them—” She shrugged and mimed taking off her earrings and pushing up her sleeves like she was about to fight someone.

  “And that’s why I didn’t tell you,” I said, only half joking.

  “Pfft,” Rose said. “I’m not an idiot who does shit with witnesses, and I’d make sure they got physical first. I’m very provoking.”

  “Jesus, ain’t that the truth,” my dad piped up.

  “Love you guys,” I said with a laugh. “Thanks for dinner. Come by the shop in the morning and I’ll make you something good.”

  “I’ll be there,” Rose said, snapping me lightly with the towel as I walked away.

  “Love you, too, princess,” my dad said, getting to his feet to give me a long hug.

  “I’m leaving, brothers,” I announced as I walked through the living room. They were watching some anime cartoon and barely even looked up to wave at me. “Love you.”

  “Love you, too,” Jamison said, his eyes still on the TV.

  I paused behind them.

  “Yeah,” Brody said with a shooing motion. “Love ya.”

  “Hey, Rose,” I said making my way toward the door. “You’re failing with Brody!”

  “Hey,” my brother called out in protest as I left through the front door.

  I’d put on a good show, I’d had years of practice, but as soon as I was outside, my shoulders slumped. I didn’t want my parents to worry about me any more than they already were. With our history, and my mom’s depression that had eventually ended her life, I knew that my parents had always kept an eye out for any signs that I wasn’t dealing well. They probably always would.

  I wasn’t depressed, though. I never had been, even when shit had been terrible. Sad, yeah. Scared, hell yeah. But I’d never even considered that things wouldn’t eventually get better. Amy had told me once that nothing lasts, not good times or bad—so you had to just enjoy the good while it lasted and endure the shit until it was over. I figured that was a good philosophy to live by.

  So, I knew that the sting of Draco’s dismissal would fade. The overwhelming grief that I felt wouldn’t always feel so overwhelming. It was just another thing I’d have to endure.

  “I don’t have my car,” I said, coming to a stop in the driveway.

  “Wondered when you’d notice,” Rose said from behind me, making me jump.

  “Shit!”

  “Come on,” she said, walking over to her SUV. “I’ll run you back to the clubhouse.”

  “Thanks,” I said, hurrying to catch up with her.

  “Your dad said he’d take you on the bike,” she called over the hood as she got inside. “But he’s beat, so I told him to stay with the boys,” she said as I climbed into the passenger seat.

  “His leg been bothering him?” I asked. When I was a kid, my dad and Rose had been kidnapped and while they were held, my dad had been tortured. We didn’t talk about it, or the fact that he still limped when the weather changed, but I always knew when those old wounds were acting up.

  “Nah,” she said reassuringly. “Climbing under cars all day just isn’t as easy as it used to be.”

  “Gotcha,” I said, looking out the windshield.

  “How are you doing really, princess?” she asked softly.

  The familiar endearment hit me right in the gut. My dad had always used it and still did, but Rose had stopped as I’d gotten older.

  “I’m okay,” I said. “I’m—Jesus, I’m fucking sad.”

  “Been there,” she said quietly.

  “I’m angry and I’m sad and I’m—I don’t know what to do with my hands, you know?” I flopped them out in front of me, making her chuckle. I knew she’d understand what I meant.

  “When me and your dad split up back in the day,” Rose said, “I was exactly the same. Like, what do I do now? How am I supposed to just move on from this like it didn’t happen? And yeah, what am I supposed to do with my hands? It’s like your whole body feels foreign or something. You don’t know what to do with yourself.”

  “Pretty much,” I said, twining my fingers together on my lap.

  “I can’t tell you it gets easier,” she said as we paused at the gate to the clubhouse. A different prospect, looking bored out of his mind, was working the gate and he waved us through. “Because your dad and I got back together.” She looked at me. “But if you need anything or you just don’t want to be alone, or you just want to come home for a few days or a few hours to get away from everything, you know we’re always there. You’re my favorite person to hang with.”

  “Lily’s your favorite,” I replied dryly.

  “Lily’s everyone’s favorite,” we both said at the same time.

  “But thanks,” I told her as she pulled up next to my car. “Love you, Ma,” I said as I opened my door.

  “Love you, too,” she said softly.

  I closed the door between us before we both started crying. There were only a few times in my life when I’d called Rose Ma. I referred to her as my mom to other people, because she was—she’d adopted me when I was a teenager. But I’d met her when I was older and I’d just always called her Rose when I was speaking to her. I wasn’t sure why, but it had stayed that way. So, when I called her ma, we both felt it. It had somehow become a special thing that we both understood, a private acknowledgement of her place.

  She waved, blew me a kiss, and drove off as I got into my car.

  I drove home in silence, not bothering to turn on the radio. Any upbeat song would irritate me and I was walking such a tightrope that I knew any breakup song would push me right off and I’d be a sobbing mess by the time I got there. I tensed as I passed a police car, but it must not have been Officer Asshole, because he paid no attention to me.

  By the time I’d parked and made my way toward my apartment, my bag slung over my shoulder, all I wanted was to cry in the shower and crawl in bed. Between the flight home, the mess at the clubhouse, and dinner with my parents, it had been a long ass day.

  As soon as I opened the front door, I knew it was going to be even longer. Charlie and Draco were sitting on the floor blocking my way inside. Curtis stood behind them with a guy I’d never seen before, probably one of Charlie’s admirers. He looked exactly her type. It only took a second for me to take all of that in, but it took a few moments longer to notice the expression on Draco’s pale face.

  I looked down at the floor where they were sitting, surrounded by the pile of stuff I’d left there, and my ears started to ring.

  They’d found the box.

  My skin started to tingle as I stared at all the little notes I knew had been folded, now laying open in a neat pile.

  “Baby,” Draco said softly, his voice holding all the things I’d wished for when I’d gone to the clubhouse earlier that day.

  Earlier, when I’d made the decision to tell him everything on my terms.

  This—this was beyond comprehension.

  “How dare you,” I breathed, staring at him.

  “I’m sorry,” Charlie said. I could tell by just her words that she was drunk. “We were just going to bring your stuff into your room.”

  “And you accidentally unzipped my bag and pulled out the box that was in the very bottom of it?” I asked flatly.

  “We—” she shook her head. “Me and Curtis were kind of fighting over it,” she said quickly. “The zipper caught and I pulled and the bag fell and—”

  “Spare me,” I snapped.

  “It was an accident,” she said, her voice pleading. “I swear.”

  “And then you accidentally went through it?” I asked softly. I took another step back.

  “She tried to put it back,” Draco said, pulling my attention back to him.

  “You made your decision,” I replied, my voice barely a whisper. “Why the hell would you do this?”

  “I was wrong,” he said, getting to his feet. “I went out to find you, but you were already leaving—”

  I put my hand up to stop him. The apartment was silent as I reached up and pressed my fingers against my forehead, hiding my face with my hand.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “No. Get the fuck out of my apartment.”

  “Kara,” he said gently, taking a step toward me.

  “Get out,” I yelled, dropping my hand.

  “We need to talk,” he replied stubbornly.

  “You—” I was so angry I could barely speak. “You went through my things. You read through my private things.”

  “How could I not?” he asked, his hands out in front of him, palms up.

  “I don’t even know that guy,” I shouted, pointing at the man who clearly wanted to be anywhere but standing inside my apartment while I lost my shit.

  “I didn’t look at your stuff,” he said quickly.

  “Great,” I snapped. “I feel so much fucking better.”

  “You didn’t say shit,” Curtis said, finally breaking his silence as he stared at me. “You were gettin’ those and you didn’t say shit.”

  “Oh, fuck you,” I replied, sneering at him. “You made it clear you didn’t want me anywhere near you. Fuck you and your blame shit.”

  “I don’t even remember it,” he said, leaning forward at the waist.

  “I don’t give a flying fuck,” I yelled. “Get out!”

  Charlie was still sitting on the floor between us and she flinched when I yelled, then frantically reached for the stack of letters.

  “Don’t touch them,” I snapped. I fell to my knees and practically shoved her out of the way, grabbing fistfuls of the box’s contents and stuffing them into the backpack.

  I hadn’t seen the words in years. I’d stuffed them in the box and put them away and refused to look at them again. But, the minute I saw the familiar handwriting, the same nauseous feeling and skin tingling fear that someone was watching me swept over me from head to toe. I shuddered. My hands started to shake as I zipped the backpack closed.

  The room was silent.

  “I’m so sorry,” Charlie said, putting her hand on my back. She dropped it when I glared at her. Her betrayal was worse. I’d trusted her more than anyone else on the entire planet and she’d let them look through my things.

  “You’ve chosen your side,” I said flatly. “Either you move out or I do. Maybe you can move in with Tweedledee and Tweedledum.”

  Charlie’s mouth tightened and her eyes filled with tears.

  “That’s enough,” Draco ordered. He reached for me.

  “Don’t touch me,” I snapped.

  My words didn’t stop him. He pulled me to my feet and ignored the way I shoved at him as he threw me over his shoulder.

  “Clear out,” he ordered the rest of the room as he stomped toward the hallway.

  I pounded on his back and kicked my legs. When that didn’t work, I pinched any skin I could reach as hard as I could.

  “Stop it,” he ordered, slapping my ass. “Jesus.”

  When he dropped me onto my bed, I came up swinging and just barely missed him as he jerked backward.

  “Get out,” I screamed, pointing at my bedroom door.

  “I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he shouted back.

  “Yes, you are,” I gritted out. “Get out.”

  “You want to be with me?” he asked, frustration making the words come out hard.

  “I don’t even want to look at you,” I hissed.

  “You’re mad,” he replied. “Fine. You want to be with me?”

  “Get out.”

  “Doesn’t matter how many times you say it,” he shot back, slamming the door closed. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

  “Did you have fun going through my shit?” I asked nastily. “It would make a good drinking game. Take a shot every time my boobs or vagina were mentioned?”

  “Jesus,” he replied in disgust. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

  “Am I just supposed to be okay with you rifling through my stuff?” I asked in disbelief. “Okay.” I stood up and walked to my dresser, jerking open the top drawer. “These are my underwear,” I said, dropping a pile of them on the floor between us. “Did you get a good look?”

  Draco stared at me.

  “Oh, these ones,” I said, pulling out a ratty stained pair that I’d had for years. They were stretched out and huge, comfortable when I felt like garbage, and no one ever saw them, so I’d kept them. “These are my period underwear,” I said, holding them up in all their glory. “Nice, huh?”

  “Baby, stop,” he said tiredly. “Just stop.”

  “Why?” I asked, turning back toward the drawer. “I mean, my life’s an open book, right? I’m sure I have an even better pair in here somewhere.”

  “I don’t care about your underwear,” he said.

  “No, those aren’t nearly as interesting, huh?” I replied, closing the drawer with my hip so I could lean against the dresser.

  “I shouldn’t have looked,” he said, making me scoff. “But I’m glad I did.”

  “Great. Good for you.”

  “There were hundreds of them, Kara,” he said softly.

  “Really?” I asked easily. “I never counted.”