Something in the Way: A Forbidden Love Saga: The Complete Collection

by Hawkins, Jessica

  Grimes held up his palms. “You have my word.”

  The room suddenly seemed half its size. I inhaled. I didn’t want to see the look in Dexter’s eyes when I told him, but I held his stare. I deserved to face my mistakes, and maybe that wasn’t all I deserved. Fact was, I had done something bad. And bad people got locked up all the time for one thing or another. “Like I said, Lake is Tiffany’s younger sister. Tiffany’s my girlfriend, for lack of a better term. Lake, though . . .” I couldn’t put into words what she was. As if I even knew. “She’s my friend.”

  “Be straight with me, Manning. She’s sixteen.”

  I flattened my hands on the table. I’d have agreed to almost anything for a cigarette at that moment. I’d never felt more deserving of one. “I had a younger sister.”

  “Had?” Dexter sat back. “I’m sorry.”

  I nodded once. “Having Lake around reminds me of how it used to be. With Maddy. You don’t just stop being an older brother.”

  Dexter gave me a moment. “If that’s true, and it’s nothing more, then we might be able to use that to our advantage, show your character.”

  “It was true . . .” I said slowly. “At first, Lake was uncomplicated. Genuine. Trusting. She brought back small things about Madison I hadn’t realized I’d forgotten.” I had the urge to look anywhere but at Dexter. To bash my head against the table and wake myself up from this nightmare. I’d made these decisions, though. I couldn’t just pretend I hadn’t. “It’s not that anymore. The more I get to know her, it’s something else. She’s not like the rest of us. She’s good.”

  “Are you saying something happened?”

  “I’m saying what I feel for her comes from an innocent place. I would never hurt her. If anything, I wanted . . . I want to protect her. To keep her pure.”

  “But you had sex with her,” he concluded.

  “No. God, no.” I ran both hands over my face. “We went for a drive. We don’t get much time alone, and somehow we’d ended up with this one night. We were only in that neighborhood with the lights out to see the stars. Never even stopped the car. On the way back, we almost hit a coyote so I pulled over. She got out and jumped in the lake. She wanted me to chase her. To give in. She wanted me, and fuck, I wanted her back, but it’s no excuse. In the truck, we got a little too close. I almost went where I shouldn’t. But I swear, that was all, and I ended it right before the cop spotted us. Lake hid in the back while I talked to him.”

  “She hid. Fuck.” Dexter took it all in. “He didn’t see her?”

  “No.”

  “Drinking?”

  “Not a drop, either of us.”

  “No sex at all? Were you inside her at any point?”

  “No, fuck no. We didn’t even kiss.” To hear it put so clinically, my stomach churned. “I know I lost control, but I’d never take advantage of her.”

  “Does anyone else know? The sister?”

  “Not unless Lake told her, but she promised me she wouldn’t. I’m sure that’s why she called. She’s probably scared.”

  He chewed on his bottom lip. The room got so quiet, I heard his watch ticking.

  What I did with Lake, it could’ve been worse, but what people thought held more weight than the truth. Even if we swore she’d ridden in the bed of the truck the entire time, people would think the worst. Blame me for taking advantage of a young girl. And some might blame her, too. They’d look at her differently. Her dad would see her differently. That changed a person, and I didn’t want her to change, didn’t want her to feel the stares, to think she’d done anything wrong, or that she’d disappointed her family.

  Lake was untouchable. I’d make sure it stayed that way. “I won’t bring her into this,” I said. “Even if it saves me.”

  He looked up. “You can’t go away for driving around with a minor. If you were with her and she corroborates that, then you couldn’t have been at the house. Basically, she’s your alibi.”

  If she were called to the stand to tell the court what’d really happened that night, she’d be traumatized. But I’d be fucked. I hadn’t forgotten what Mr. Kaplan had said at dinner about his “friends in the legal system.” If the burglary charges were dropped, no doubt he’d bring his own against me. He’d find a way. Maybe even statutory rape, and I’d serve a decade before I put Lake through that. I opened my mouth to tell Grimes as far as the courts were concerned, I had no alibi.

  “But,” he said, frowning, “since the cop didn’t see Lake, he’d either assume you were lying or that she’d hidden. So even if the jury believed her story, they’d draw their own conclusions as to why she’d hide from a cop.”

  “You’re agreeing with me?” I asked. “We can keep her out of this?”

  “I think that’s best,” he said hesitantly. “I’m concerned her testimony could actually hurt us.” Dexter picked up my file, straightening it on the table. “We’ll have to find another way.”

  27

  Lake

  The clock on the dashboard changed. 12:53 P.M.

  Tiffany had been the perfect person to get us here—driving over the speed limit was her default. But we hadn’t left the house early enough, and traffic had slowed us down. I had only seven minutes to find Dexter Grimes and tell him what I knew. I wasn’t sure if it’d help or hurt, but at this point Manning’s lawyer was the only person who’d be able to help me.

  Tiffany pulled into a parking spot, and I jumped out of the car.

  “Slow down,” she said, unbuckling her seatbelt. “I don’t know where to go.”

  “Neither do I.” I slammed the door shut and hurried across the courthouse’s parking lot. It was smaller than I expected. During the drive, I’d built it up in my mind as some large, scary place.

  “Lake!” Tiffany caught up with me at the entrance since we had to go through security. “Don’t ditch me,” she said. “Dad’ll kill me if I come home without you.”

  Maybe she was making a joke. I couldn’t tell. My stomach hurt, and my mom’s pumps kept slipping off, already rubbing against my heels. “It’s almost one.”

  We went through the metal detector and retrieved our purses from the conveyor belt. “Maybe they’ll be running behind,” she said.

  “Maybe they won’t.”

  In the lobby, the line to talk to someone was too long. A large calendar on the wall displayed a list of names, so I went there instead.

  Tiffany stood next to me, scanning it. “There he is,” she said, pointing. “Sutter, M. Courtroom eight.”

  I turned to her. “But where would his lawyer be?”

  “I have no idea.”

  I bit my bottom lip, looking around us. Men and women in suits hurried down the hall in both directions. The clock above reception ticked down . . . four minutes to go.

  I took off for courtroom eight, our only shot, the click of my slippery heels echoing off the walls. A week ago, I’d been on a horse, hugging Manning’s middle while the sun warmed us, inhaling the scent of pine trees-and-Manning with every breath. He’d helped me conquer my fear, but he’d also taught me something about myself. As I checked the numbers over each courtroom, I realized what he’d said was true. The sick feeling in my gut told me this was my Ferris wheel, my Betsy Junior. It was as bad as boarding an airplane. I had no control over Manning and me, and I never really had. Whatever choices I’d made that night, they’d led us here, but that wasn’t me being in control. That was my selfishness. I’d pushed and pushed Manning, trying to get him to see me differently. To want me. To love me. This was my fault. I had to show up for Manning, no matter what happened; it was the only thing I could control in this moment.

  Tiffany and I arrived at the same time, pulling open the door to courtroom eight together, all brown wooden pews and worn carpeting inside.

  Manning stood before a judge in an orange jumpsuit, his back to us, a head taller than anyone in the room. The judge, elevated above the rest of us, looked down at Manning and spoke words I barely registered. “ . . . count o
f attempted robbery in the first degree . . . felony . . . do you understand the nature of the charges?”

  The brown-haired, suit-wearing man next to Manning looked over his shoulder at me. Dexter? I mouthed to him, but he just glanced at the ground and turned forward again.

  Manning nodded once. “I do.”

  The judge shuffled some papers. “Are you entering this plea freely and of your own will?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “Do you understand that by pleading guilty, you’re giving up your right to a trial?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  Guilty? I must’ve misheard. My ears rang. Not guilty—that’s what he’d said. I took a few steps farther into the room, my heels sticking on the threadbare carpet. Tiffany grabbed my elbow to pull me back.

  “I understand there’s a plea bargain on the table,” the judge continued. “The prosecutor will now state the terms of the agreement to the court.”

  A man at the table to Manning’s left stood. “Your honor, we’re offering to reduce the charge from attempted robbery to burglary in the first degree with a low-term sentence of two years.”

  The judge looked at Manning. “Do you understand the terms of the plea agreement?”

  “I do.”

  “Two years?” I asked aloud. A few people looked over at me.

  Tiffany tugged on my elbow while the judge asked questions I didn’t understand. “Let’s sit,” she said.

  I ripped my arm from her grip and walked toward the divider separating the gallery from the court. Tiffany hurried after me.

  “Mr. Sutter, how do you plead to the charge?” the judge asked.

  Manning didn’t even hesitate. “Guilty, Your Honor.”

  Tiffany and I looked at each other. No. He had no reason to plead guilty. It must’ve been a mistake. It had to be. I went for the gate, but Dexter turned, put his hand up to stop me, and shook his head.

  “The court will accept your plea of guilty . . . sentenced to two years for a felony charge . . .”

  I gripped the sides of my head, covering my ears. “Manning,” I said. “Please don’t.”

  Manning turned as quickly as he could, his hands cuffed in front of him. My vision blurred with tears, but our eyes met, his imploring me.

  “What are you doing?” Tiffany asked him. “You’re not guilty.”

  “Ma’am,” the judge said. “Please don’t communicate with the inmate.”

  “It’s okay,” Manning said immediately, his voice hushed. I didn’t even think he understood what he was saying. He came to the wall. “Everything’s okay. You shouldn’t be here.”

  A man in uniform started toward us.

  Dexter checked over his shoulder. “Time to go, Manning.”

  “Not yet,” I said, but my voice came out as a whisper. I had to undo this. All of this had started because I’d gone over to talk to him on the wall, because I’d forced him to let me in the truck, made him drive me around when we should’ve gone straight back. “I can help—”

  “It’s okay, Birdy. I’ve got this,” Manning said calmly, leaning in. “You did good.”

  “No I didn’t.” My voice and hands shook. We were so close. I wanted to feel his stubble on my cheek, to have him whisper in my ear that this wasn’t happening. He couldn’t even touch me with his hands shackled. “This is my f—”

  “I did this to myself,” he said. “It was the only way. You have to trust me.”

  “But you’re innocent.”

  “Be good, Birdy.” He looked at Tiffany. “Thank you for—”

  “Defense,” the judge said. “That’s enough. Communicating with the inmate is grounds for arrest.”

  “Come on, Manning,” Dexter said.

  The man dressed like a security guard grabbed Manning’s arm. “Let’s go, inmate,” he said, leading him away.

  Tiffany’s chin wobbled. “Can I come see you?”

  “Your sister needs you,” he told Tiffany over his shoulder.

  Her contorted expression eased, smoothing out. I looked from her to Manning just as he disappeared into the back.

  Dexter stayed with us. “It was the best-case scenario,” he said. “The odds were stacked against him.”

  “But he’s innocent,” I said. “I was—”

  “I know,” Dexter cut me off sharply. He looked me in the eye. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over. If we do anything more, it can only hurt him.”

  My chest tightened. I had to steady myself on the divider. Manning had told me to trust him. Dexter clearly knew about me already. The information I had could make things worse, I understood that—I’d only hoped the opposite was true.

  Dexter handed Tiffany a business card and a clear plastic bag with hardly anything in it.

  “What is this?” she asked.

  “Manning said to give it to you. His apartment keys are in there.” Dexter shook his head. “I don’t think he has anyone else.”

  I took the bag from her. There was a pack of cigarettes, keys, some loose papers, a ring, and . . . the bracelet I’d made him. I swallowed back another wave of tears as I took it out. It was worthless, just a few intertwined wax strings, but they hadn’t even let him keep that. This was all that’d been on him when they’d arrested him—which meant he’d also been carrying around the huge and chunky ring at the bottom of the bag. I wasn’t sure what it was or if it meant anything to him. The other morning as we’d walked into Reflection, he’d said he’d wanted to give me something. Maybe this was it. I put both the bracelet and the ring in my pocket before Tiffany could take them.

  Dexter had to go. Tiffany and I, out of options, walked back outside. The California sun felt angry, blinding. By the time we reached the curb, I was limping from the blisters the shoes were giving me.

  Tiffany noticed. “Wait here,” she said. “I’ll get the car.”

  I took off the pumps. Away from Manning, Dexter, and Tiffany, my nose tingled as tears leaked from my eyes. Guilt weighed on my shoulders. I never would’ve jumped in the lake if I’d known how his sister had died. I never would’ve gotten in the truck if I’d known an innocent man could end up in jail. I’d made some huge mistakes, and I didn’t even have the luxury of reaping the punishment myself. The man I’d hurt, the man I loved, had to do it for me. If anyone deserved to be led away into that ominous back room, it was me.

  Tiffany’s BMW pulled up to the curb. When I didn’t move, she rolled down the passenger’s side window. “Get in.”

  Barefoot, I crossed the pavement and slid in next to her.

  We sat in silence a few moments, her staring through the windshield, me out my window at nothing but the building’s beige stucco walls and chipped brown roof.

  Tiffany turned off the car.

  I looked over at her. “What’re you doing?” I asked.

  She kept her gaze forward. “Did you have sex with him?”

  My mouth went dry as the car shrunk around us. Sunlight harshened a film of dust on the dashboard. “What?”

  She turned to me. My sister’s eyes were as familiar as anything in my life, but I didn’t remember them ever being the glacial shade of blue they were now. “I saw you get into his truck that night. So did you?”

  “No.” My voice shook. It never occurred to me someone might’ve seen, least of all her. That’d been over three days ago, and she hadn’t said a word about it. “I swear, I didn’t. All we did was go for a drive.”

  “Why should I believe you?” she asked.

  “I wouldn’t lie to you, Tiffany. We drove around and came back. He didn’t burglarize any house. We didn’t . . .”

  “Say it.”

  “We didn’t have sex.”

  She grabbed the baggie of Manning’s things from the console and threw it at my feet. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with his shit?”

  I picked it up, the keys jangling. “I . . . I don’t know. He has no one else. I guess we—”

  She snatched it from me. “There is no we. Are you going to
go to a landlord and explain this? You can’t even drive.” Her voice broke. “He wouldn’t even talk to me in there. He only had a few seconds, but you took them. All he said to me was ‘your sister needs you.’”

  There was nothing else to say. How could I ever explain what the last five weeks had been for me and Manning? That I’d felt justified in the decisions I’d made to try to keep him for myself? “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry won’t get him out of prison.” She started the car. “Look what you’ve done, Lake. You made a colossal mistake, and now my boyfriend has to pay the price.”

  We pulled away from the curb. I watched the courthouse in the side mirror until it disappeared—gone, just like summer. Just like Manning.

  I stared at nothing in the reflection long after we’d driven away, until I could no longer see through my tears.

  Tiffany’s words played over and over in my head.

  Look what you’ve done, Lake.

  If I closed my eyes, I could still see them—all blonde sunshine, ocean-blue eyes, and long limbs. My scenery may have changed from Heaven to Hell, but some things never would, like my struggle to do right by both sisters. The sacrifices I made for them, I made willingly.

  A better man would’ve walked away by now, but I never claimed to be any good. I only promised myself I’d keep enough distance. If I’d learned one thing from my past, it was that love came in different forms. You could love passionately, hurt deep, die young. Or you could provide the kind of firm, steady support someone else could lean on.

  Lake was everything I wanted, and nothing I should ever have. I was nobody before I knew her and a criminal after. The way to love her was to let her shine—even if it would be for somebody else.

  Somebody Else’s Sky is book two in the Something in the Way series.

  Preface

  Lake, 1995