by Debra Kayn
"I don't think age had anything to do with her decision to leave." She gazed at the babies. "I would never leave my child...children."
Kylie leaned against her side. Sydney laid her head against her sister's.
"Let's swear, right now, if one of us does something so dumb, so unforgivable, we'll stop each other."
Kylie hummed, not replying.
She shifted and held her sister's arms. "What?"
"Are you serious about us stopping each other?"
She nodded.
Kylie closed her eyes and when she reopened them, said, "I think you're being dumb holding out hope that Jett will forgive you. I think how he's treating you is unforgivable."
"But, he's taking care of me. He lets us stay at his house and—"
"No." Kylie shook her head. "If he loved you, he would forgive you—for whatever misunderstanding you both had. You've been loyal and planning your future on what he's doing or wants you to do. You deserve more than what he's giving you."
Her chest squeezed. Kylie grabbed her, holding her up when she only wanted to throw herself on the floor and kick her feet in a tantrum to fight for Jett. Her sister would never understand how complete she felt when Jett forced her to come home with him, took care of her, or the happiness that bloomed inside of her knowing she was making a difference in his life, simply by staying with him.
If she'd been older when her mom gave her away, she would've found her and fought to keep her in her life. She would've done more to show her mom how much she was needed. But, she never had that chance and her and Kylie's lives were hard. Much harder than they deserved.
Maybe that's why she couldn't give up on Jett. She loved him, and she would do whatever needed to be done to prove that they belonged together because to walk away from him would change her life. Nobody could convince her she'd be better off without him. She knew differently.
"You can't put the responsibility on Jett never to leave because you're scared," said Kylie.
"I'm not scared of him," she whispered.
"No, you're scared that he's going to be another person in your life that doesn't want you and will leave." Kylie caressed Sydney's cheeks. "And, you feel that way because you love him."
Oh, God. Her sister was right again
She'd fallen in love with Jett and had been waiting for him to walk out of her life. His anger, his accusations, his rules, they all pointed to him leaving her.
And, she stuck around to have a chance to fight for him like she should've had with her mother.
How could any of her actions be healthy?
"I don't know what to do," she said.
"Go with your heart." Kylie looked over at the children sleeping on the floor. "You've never questioned your love for me. Don't question yourself with Jett."
"How did you get smarter than me?" she whispered.
Kylie flinched. "I'm not, and I don't want to be.
Before she could figure out what Kylie meant, the door opened, letting in the music from the main room. Kylie let go of her as Chief slipped inside and looked around. Swallowing the emotions left behind from the talk with her sister, she walked around the sleeping kids on the floor and approached him.
"Stassi's sleeping?" Chief huffed. "I don't think she's closed her eyes before midnight since she turned three."
"Kylie's storytelling works wonders." She pointed to the floor. "Do you want me to get her?"
He shook his head. "Johanna will be here soon. She's gone over to Danner and Lyla's house to pick up Jackie. It was supposed to be her first sleepover, but she wanted to come home. She got homesick."
"Ah, poor kid. She's still young." She folded her arms, knowing the words to say but being a foster kid never allowed her the gift of being homesick.
Chief touched her shoulder and motioned her toward the door. "I need to talk to you."
She looked at Kylie and hitched her thumb toward the door, letting her know she was leaving the room, then followed Chief out into the hallway. Without Jett around didn't make Chief any less scary but over the last six months babysitting the kids, she had to admit that the few conversations she'd had with Chief were almost...normal.
Chief stopped and faced her. "Jett wants you to come for visitation."
She'd expected him to criticize her babysitting skills or tell her she wasn't needed at the club anymore. Pressing her hand to her racing heart, she said, "He really asked for me?"
He nodded. "There's a condition."
"What?" She stepped closer. "No, nevermind. Just tell me. I'll do anything."
He tilted his head. "You wait three months, and you can only come if you bring Kylie with you to the prison."
Her head snapped back. She clicked her tongue, opened her mouth, and gawked at him. He could've asked her for the moon, and she would've figured out how to bring it to Jett.
"K-Kylie? Why?" Her sister was not the type of person to walk into a prison, get frisked, get interrogated, and sit beside criminals for no reason. Not even as a favor to her. No, she wouldn't ask her to do that.
"That's what Jett wants. Leave it or take it."
She inhaled deeply, holding her forehead. "I-I'll bring her."
Somehow, she'd have to figure out a way to change Jett's mind between now and three months. If he called her, she would beg him not to involve Kylie in his anger toward her.
"That's a yes?" asked Chief.
She nodded. "Yes."
"I'll pass on the message."
"Um, can you also ask him to call me? Please?"
Chief ducked his chin and walked away from her. Reeling from the invitation, she paced the hallway. Kylie had given her opinion of Jett, not ten minutes ago. How would she ever convince her sister to go to the prison with her now?
How could she ask such a favor knowing how hard it would be on Kylie?
She'd always protected her sister. That protective streak had come between her and Jett, and every foster family they'd lived with. She bent over and held on to the wall, panting for breath. She could feel her desperate hold on Jett slipping.
Chapter Twenty Nine
The noise level on the second floor of the cell block made Jett lose count of how many sit-ups he'd done. He curled his abdomen, pulling himself up, and went back down on his back. Five more times and he called it good. He tried to do two hundred sit-ups a day while he had the cell to himself.
Carbo, his cellmate for the last two years, got himself put in solitary for icing some inmate on another block during lunch a week ago.
His absence wasn't missed.
Jett stood and walked to the bars, holding on with his hands, and let his head fall between his arms. Exercise was the only thing that warmed his body and stopped his joints from aching. The two-inch thick mat he slept on could've been made of steel for how much it failed to cushion his body.
Clanking rattled his cage. "Stanton."
He ignored the call.
"Stanton."
His fingers tightened around the bars. Clem Olson had it out for him. Now, and back when he served time during his first incarceration. The closer he got to release, the harder Olson tried to take him out.
"You're going down, Stanton." Olson laughed. "Fourth rib, man. You'll never make it out."
He lifted his head and pushed away from the bars. Whether Olson had a shiv or one of his cronies, someone was out to stab him. A kill shot.
Less than five minutes later, a guard showed up and opened his cell. "Visitation, inmate."
He walked beyond the bars and stopped. The guard put a tie-strap on him binding his hands behind his back to transport him through the prison.
Out of his peripheral vision, he watched Olson slipping his arm between the bars. He'd need to walk past him. Any sign of stepping out of line on the walk to visitation would have him back in his cell. He wouldn't get to see Sydney.
If he stayed in line, Olson's reach would make contact with him. It wouldn't matter to Olson if he killed or got caught, because he was in on a se
venty-year sentence.
The guard ordered him to walk. He looked ahead and strode forward. Nothing would stop him from seeing Sydney. It was time to put his life back together again.
"Watch your back," said Olson under his breath.
He continued walking. Hyper-alert, he never let his guard down. Any of the men along the way would be looking for a way to trip him up.
Down the stairs, through two corridors, he lined up behind the other inmates outside the locked door leading to the visiting room. When the guards came by to check numbers, he said, "Four-four-seven-zero-eight-eight."
The guard snipped the strap binding his wrists together. He dropped his arms to his sides, ignoring the urge to rub his hands. Too many fights, too much abuse, too much riding, too much working the wrench in the garage at Brikken over the years had given him what he suspected was carpel tunnel.
At forty years old, it didn’t take much use to develop a deep ache and tingling in his hands. Half the fucking time, his right hand went numb.
A guard walked down the line, inspecting them all, while someone ahead of him read through the rules, expecting the inmates to be listening.
As his torment grew stronger, the door finally opened.
"Single file, inmates. Mind the rules." The guard stepped back.
He walked into the room, scanning the tables, drawn to the one with two women, and had to take an extra look. There was no mistaking the blue eyes that called to him in silent need. But, Sydney looked nothing like the girl he'd walked out of the visitation on last time.
All her black hair was gone and replaced with light blonde. A color that prompted him to think about warm honey dribbled over toast, reminding him of how hungry he was, and how long it'd been since he was with a woman.
The closer he got to the table, he finally blinked, seeing what made her appearance so shocking. Her makeup, not noticeable at first, accented her eyes and drew attention to her lips, lightly stained as they were blushing from being kissed.
He pulled out the chair, sat, and soaked in the grownup version of Sydney, trying to remember how old she'd be. Nineteen? Twenty? Whatever the exact number it was a far cry from sixteen. She was no longer a young girl trying to be a woman.
Glancing at her sister, she too had changed since he'd seen her in her uniform walking home from school. They could've planned to style their hair the same, the makeup the same because the only difference between the two girls was the clothes they were wearing and the feelings behind their gazes.
Sydney stared at him openly, desperate and familiar, while Kylie avoided his gaze, scared out of her mind to be sitting across from him.
Anyone looking would peg them as sisters. Only a year apart in age, their family genes ran strong. The knowledge of why Sydney had disguised herself when she'd ran away from foster care, hiding her age, her face, her looks, became obvious to him.
She hadn't tried to con him. She'd done what was necessary—her reasons no longer existed, and he assumed they had to do with her sister and being a ward of the state.
He dragged his gaze off Sydney and looked at Kylie. "You're living in my house with your sister. I've given you that, and you owe me the truth."
Kylie glanced at Sydney and then nodded. He tapped his thumb on the table. He'd had years to figure out what exactly went down the day he'd been arrested. Hearing facts added more to the situation.
"The day I met you, you were in the cop car. You never said a word as I was hauled to the police station." He stilled his thumb. "What did you receive for working with the police? Did you do it to get charges dropped on Sydney? To get her out of juvie?"
He wanted her to give him a reason to trust Sydney. Having brothers, a family, a club, he could understand protecting those he loved. He'd done it once, and he'd do it again, even if he ended up in prison. Again.
Kylie shook her head. "I wasn't working with the police."
"Bullshit," he whispered, but the quietness couldn't hide his anger.
Sydney reached over and held her sister's hand. "It's okay."
Kylie's eyes filled with tears. Her waterworks meant nothing to him.
"I lived in a strict foster home," said Kylie, barely audible.
He tuned out the low murmurs in the room and concentrated on Kylie's mouth. The slight tremble of her lips.
"My foster dad would often show up on my walk home from school to check up on me and make sure I was coming straight home. He meant well, both him and my foster mom. They were good parents." Her neck spasmed as she swallowed. "The policeman...he was my foster dad. He stopped and gave me a ride because it had started to sprinkle. When he saw you, he told me to stay in the patrol car. Then, he ran your information and told me he would be transporting you to the station, and I wasn't to talk or look behind me. I-I don't think Mr. Mathew knew you'd talked with me because he never asked me about you. I never said anything during the ride because I didn't want to get in trouble." She glanced at her sister. "Sydney's the one who always got in trouble for protecting me."
His eyes closed momentarily as the truth came out. He had no reason to believe she was lying. His arrest was almost four years ago. She would've had plenty of time to come up with a better story, even take herself out of the equation, for Sydney's sake. But, she hadn't.
He'd met Kylie with his vest off, his pistol in plain view tucked into the back of his jeans. Something he never would've done, but he'd been consumed with finding Sydney. He hadn't wanted to scare Kylie by wearing his leather before he had a chance to talk with her.
The fact it was her foster father who arrested him after seeing him armed and on a motorcycle was a coincidence.
He looked at Sydney, the stubborn tilt of her chin daring him to try and upset her sister, so she could fly across the table and come to Kylie's defense was apparent to anyone in the room.
His little con artist with a heart for only him, unafraid to go up against an inmate. His chest expanded. Chief had been right in raising Johanna from a young age as his life partner, to be beside him as he led Brikken. That kind of devotion that was needed could not come from someone already independent and set in their ways.
He'd had that chance with Sydney.
He ran his hand down his beard and inhaled deeply. Prison fucked with his head. Not having control outside the fence and spending every minute inside with people trying to take him out had turned him paranoid.
To keep himself on tap and aware, safe, he'd concentrated on Sydney's betrayal. His pulse roared. Except, she'd stayed loyal to him, despite him putting her through hell.
He closed his mouth, looked away, and inhaled deeply before facing her again. "Syd, I—"
"I swear, if you call me a liar or send me away as some kind of punishment, I'll walk out the door right now, and you will never see me again." Sydney's upper body shook, adding fervor to her words. "I've given you more years of my life than any other person besides my sister. I'm not giving you one second more, Jett. Not, one second."
Fucking. Hell. He loved her.
Despite his need to be careful who he invited into his life and knowing the mistakes that had been made in the past, there had never been a question that he wanted Sydney. Even when he believed she'd put him in prison.
"I believe you." He leaned forward, keeping his hands on his thighs so he wouldn't break the rules and touch her.
"You do?" She raised her brows and grabbed onto the table, perched on the edge of her seat. "I mean, you should. It's the truth. I've tried to tell you, but you shut me out—"
"Not going to shut you out anymore," he said.
"All I wanted to do was talk to you, and you didn't call or—"
"I'll call you." He balled his fists, hating the space between them.
"Are you going to kick me out of the house when you get released?" She glanced at Kylie. "Kick us out of the house?"
He shook his head. "I want you there. Kylie's welcome to live with us."
Sydney fell back into the chair and gawked at him.
Her switch of emotions would've amused him if he hadn't been the one who'd put her through the pain of being pushed away.
She put her hand on her forehead, clicked her tongue, and said, "I don't know what to say. I came here prepared to leave."
"I'd never let you leave." He paused, aware of the time ticking by. "You're doing okay?"
"Yeah...now." She blew out her cheeks and sat up straighter. "I kept telling Kylie that I couldn't leave. I didn't know what I was doing or what I'd say to you, but I knew you wouldn't leave me. I knew it," she said, ending in a whisper.
His chest squeezed. "As long as there are clouds above you," he whispered back.
Sydney's chest rose and fell, but it was her smile he was watching. "Things are okay?"
"Babysitting the Brikken babies has turned into a part-time job."
"You like it?"
"Yeah, I mean, it's easy." She raised her brows. "Wait until you see Stassi. She's not a baby anymore."
He inhaled, clinging to any news about the family. "She's what...four?"
"Almost." She laughed softly. "She's a spazz, and you can't help but love her. Jackie's nine-years-old now and compared to her sister is easy going."
"They're growing up," he murmured, captivated listening to Sydney talk. He'd only had that happiness from her for a short while before they were forced apart. How much he missed seeing the world through her eyes, innocent eyes, was unmeasurable.
He cleared his throat. The last time they were together on the outside, he'd planned to have sex with her. She hadn't been with anyone since doing a two-year stint in juvie. He'd made sure that she had no contact with any men outside of Brikken, and even then, contact was limited to the guys who were fathers or related to him.
"Oh." Sydney turned to her sister. "Can you walk over to the lady at the window and get the change I gave her. She'll watch you to make sure you spend the money at the vending machine. Buy two Snicker bars."
Kylie stood, glanced around, and chose to walk the longest way around the room beside the wall, skirting the other tables and inmates. Jett focused on Sydney.
She leaned forward and whispered. "Chief wanted me to make sure you ate the candy before our visit was over. I promised him I'd get some for you."