Twisted Freedom

by J Grayland

  “Maybe you have some family that you don’t know about?” Nate said as he glanced down at the pictures.

  “Not any that turned up at their funerals or offered me any support after the accident,” I said, shaking my head. I stood up and pushed everything back into the box except the diary. I wanted to read it. Well, at least I thought I wanted to read it. Just not right now. Taking the box up to my room, I pushed it under the bed, turning to see Nate’s curious look.

  “You know, we could try and find out who those people are in the photos.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you might actually have some family, and that’s what you want right? A family to belong to? Casey, there are some things that you don’t have to hide away under a bed, and if you have some family out there, Maybe it’s worth it to try and find them,” Nate said.

  “The only thing that box will offer me is more pain, Nate. Besides, if I do have family and they are anything like my parents, I don’t want to know them,” I said, walking over and slipping my arms around his waist. “I have all the family I need right here.” Feeling his strong arms wrapping around me and his warm breath against the top of my head was all the security I needed.

  Chapter Eight

  Nate

  Standing in her room, with her small arms around my waist and mine around her shoulders, I rubbed my chin against the top of her silken hair and inhaled. Vanilla mixed with her own unique intoxicating scent. After a few minutes of us standing in the same embrace, she moved her head to look up at me. “So, are you okay?” she asked, eyes tinged with worry.

  “I’m fine, baby, why do you ask?”

  “I don’t know, it just seems that I’m dragging you into more of my drama.”

  “You’re not dragging me into anything. If I remember correctly, I volunteered to come here, didn’t I?” I said, pulling her head back to my chest.

  “Yes, but…,” she started, but I cut her words off.

  “No ‘buts.’ I’m here because I want to be. I’m not too happy about you going into the parole hearing, but that’s not my decision.” Dropping her arms from around my waist and taking a step back, she rubbed at the small line that started to appear between her brows with her finger.

  “I know you would rather me just write out a statement, but I think it might give me some kind of closure if I actually verbalize what I need to say.”

  “Verbalize to who, Casey? It’s a parole hearing. He’s not going to be there,” I said, trying to keep my voice at a calm level.

  “I know he won’t be there in the room, but I feel like I need to tell them, the people that have the power to set him free, what he’s taken from me.” And when she looked at me in that moment, I could see the conflict in those beautiful eyes of hers, and I felt like we just took a huge step back to that vulnerable and pained woman of a few months ago. This was exactly what I was afraid of. She could play tough on the outside, but she was forgetting that I knew her much better than she thought, and I definitely knew how to read her eyes. Right now, the eyes I were looking into were telling me that she wanted to pull those shutters down on me, and I was not going to let that happen.

  “You see, that look you have right now?” I said, pointing at her eyes. “That’s a look I don’t like.”

  Shaking her head and looking away from me, she turned, reached under the bed, and pulled out a dark blue suitcase, lifting it onto the bed and flipping it open.

  “So what, you’re just going to ignore me now?”

  “No, I’m just not sure what to tell you,” she said, pulling open the top drawer of the dresser and rummaging through what looked like panties. I walked over and took her hands in mine.

  “Just tell me I’m wrong, Casey. Tell me you’re strong enough to do this, because if you’re not, we’ll leave right now. Fuck the hearing,” I said through gritted teeth.

  Closing her eyes for just a moment then opening them again, she stared right into mine when she said, “I want to do this, and I know that I can, but I’m scared shitless, and I’d be a fool if I wasn’t. But you being here is giving me the strength that I need, Nate. I’m sorry that you can read my eyes, I can’t hide that, and I am trying my hardest to keep afloat. I just need you to warn me when I’m starting to sink, okay?”

  Her words made my chest ache, but they were honest and for that, I was satisfied…for now.

  Giving her a nod, I turned my attention to the open suitcase. “Do you need a hand with that?”

  “No, I’m good. Why don’t you go down, get a beer, and relax,” she said, smiling.

  “Sounds good, I’ll leave you to it,” I said before leaving the room and heading downstairs.

  Keeping the promise I had made to Paxton before we left the US, I needed to give her some space and myself some much needed time to relax a little and get myself in check. I told Paxton that I would be on my best behavior and wouldn’t smother Casey with my apparently dominant overprotectiveness, but I was finding that easier said than done at this point. I knew that she was dropping the walls she’d built around herself, but I could also see her building them back up again just as fast, and at the moment, I was caught between wanting to give her what she wanted and needed and taking what I wanted and needed, which was to get her the fuck back home and away from all this mess.

  I grabbed a beer from the fridge, flipped the cap off, and took a pull from the bottle. I headed toward the computer, figuring I might as well check through some emails and print off the tickets for the flight home on Saturday.

  Three beers later, while catching up on the latest game scores on Fox Sport, I heard the front door open, and I turned to see Flynn walking through, carrying a briefcase in one hand and what looked like a plastic bag full of take-out containers.

  “Hey, Nate,” he said, as he dropped his case and bag down on the coffee table. He loosened his gray suit tie as he flipped the top button of his white dress shirt, then shucked out of his navy suit jacket, tossing it over a chair. I watched as he walked to the fridge, grabbed a beer, and almost drained the whole bottle in one hit. “So, how was the trip today?” Flynn asked.

  “Interesting,” I said, tilting my head to the side and lifting a brow at him.

  “Really? How was Casey?” he asked as he flopped down in a chair across from me.

  “Nervous, but she did it.”

  Flynn let out a heavy sigh. “Fuck.”

  “Yep, balls of steel, that woman,” I said, trying to lighten the mood a little, which seemed to work because the lines on his face clearly relaxed.

  “I thought about calling her this morning and insisting that I go out there,” Flynn said.

  “No, man, I think she needed to go. She seems to have an agenda of things she wants to conquer, and that one probably fit in perfectly.”

  “So, what about the box?” he asked taking another slug of his beer.

  “Disturbing,” I said, giving him a sideward glance that caused his eyes to widen.

  “What do you mean?”

  “It wasn’t so much what was in it. It was what I kind of expected—some old photos and nondescript papers and a small journal that looks like it belonged to her mom. It was more her reaction to the things,” I said, rubbing my fingers against my chin.

  “Reaction?” Flynn asked, perplexed.

  “Yes, she was very detached. As she flipped through the photos, there was nothing, no recognition, not even when she got to one of her parents. It was like her essence had left her body completely. It’s just a little strange seeing her react to them like that.”

  “No, not for me,” Flynn said. “They weren’t traditional parents at all. They had no love for Casey, ever. To them, she was an inconvenience, an obstruction in their pathway to power. She was their mistake, and they reminded her of it every chance they got. No, Nate, they were not parents. They were a pair of selfish animals who deserved wh
at they got.” Flynn’s words were hard and tinged with a vicious anger, causing me to curse under my breath.

  The room filled with a silent pause for a moment while the silent rage and fury of two men perforated the air around us until Flynn finally broke it and stood up.

  “Well, better go up and get your girl. I brought us some Chinese take-out, and it’s getting cold.”

  Chapter Nine

  Casey

  Once Nate left the bedroom, I searched through my cupboards and drawers, picking out things that I wanted to take back to Portland with me and dropping the unwanted things into an empty box in the closet. Looking around the room now, I noticed how sparse it must have looked to Nate when he first came in here. I mean, it didn’t actually look like a typical girly room, now that I looked at it. In fact, if it wasn’t for it being my room, even I would think no one lived in it at all. But I guess that’s how it was. I never wanted to keep anything from my childhood, not even any pictures, so the only thing I ever needed was clothes. I was never really a person that needed lots of belongings around me to make me feel at home because, in reality, I have never felt at home, anywhere…except in Portland with Nate.

  Pushing everything I needed into the case and zipping it up, I sighed, grabbed my iPod, and pushed the buds into my ears. At the moment, I needed to put myself into a music coma with the help of Adele. Leaning my head back against my pillow, I closed my eyes with thoughts of sitting on the bottom stair of Paxton and Lynda’s beach house, my feet sinking into the cool sand and the warm sun tickling across my face.

  Still on the beach, I saw Nate’s face come into view, his dark hair slick and wet with small beads of water from the ocean trickling down the side of his face and dripping off the scruff of his strong jaw. Reaching out with my hand, I traced a rivulet of water with one finger until I reached his bottom lip, sliding my finger over it with a light, lazy moan until he sucked it into his warm mouth. It felt so real. I felt his tongue slide over the skin of my index finger, and damn, this feels too good and way too real to be a dream, and then my dream bubble popped as I was woken by a low, gravelly moan against my ear.

  Opening my eyes slowly, I stared at his beautiful, grey eyes as he sucked my finger into his mouth again.

  “Damn, that’s hot,” he groaned.

  “Tell me about it. I guess dreams really can come true,” I said as I smiled at him.

  “Hmm, you were dreaming about me, huh?”

  “I was until you woke me.”

  “Why dream when you can have the real thing any time you want?”

  “Sounds good. I want. Now,” I said, wrapping my arms around his neck.

  “Me, too, but Flynn has dinner for us downstairs, so as much as it pains me to say this,” he said, emphasizing his point by grinding his hard length against my pelvis, “…later.” Nate pulled me up from the bed, taking me with him to a standing position.

  “Great timing, Flynn,” I grumbled under my breath as we went down to eat.

  The next few hours were filled with eating from a buffet of plastic containers filled with almost every Chinese dish you could imagine. Over a few beers and a bottle of white wine, Flynn went over the schedule for tomorrow and what to expect. Trying to reassure him that I would be fine and not to stress so much, he was starting to remind me of a mother duck making sure her babies were all together. Poor guy. I always knew he looked after me, but seeing the deep lines starting to appear on his face every time he looked at me made me realize just how much I wished he would take time for himself, to live the life he deserves.

  That night, after Nate made sweet, gentle love to me, he pulled me into his strong arms, tucking me against the taut muscles of his chest. He kissed the top of my head, and the last words I heard him say before I fell asleep were, “It’s almost over, baby.”

  I woke to the feeling of butterflies going crazy in my stomach, and I noticed that Nate wasn’t next to me. Sitting up and scrubbing my hands over my face, I pulled myself up and got into the shower. After drying myself off, I dressed in a dark green wrap dress with long sleeves and a pair of black two-inch heels. I pulled my hair into a ponytail and applied a small amount of pink gloss across my lips. Running my palms over the front of my dress to make sure it was straight, I took one more look in the bathroom mirror, satisfied with the look that I was aiming for: professional and dignified.

  Grabbing a matching black purse, I went downstairs and into the kitchen to where the two men in my life were sitting at the table having breakfast. Nate’s head lifted to look at me as soon as I walked into the room, his eyes staying on mine as Flynn jumped up and motioned for me to sit while he got me some breakfast. “Just a cup of tea, please, Flynn. I don’t think my stomach will cope with much this morning,” I said.

  Nate placed his hand on top of mine as he said to Flynn, “And a piece of toast, too.” I narrowed my eyes at him, ready to disagree until I saw that slight warning light that flashed across his face.

  Placing a hot, steaming mug of tea and a plate of toast in front of me, Flynn sat back down, taking a sip from his own mug. “You okay?” he asked me.

  “A little nervous, but weirdly enough, I’m okay. I think I’m just ready for it to be over,” I breathed out.

  “And you’ve been over what you want to say?” Flynn asked, smiling when I gave him a nod.

  “You’ll do great, sweets.”

  “Thanks.”

  Nate sat in the back seat of Flynn’s Jeep, gripping my hand. He was freshly shaved, wearing a white, button-down dress shirt and dark jeans. Looking at him made me think of how he always looked in his office, casual and relaxed, although I did miss the scruff that normally shadowed his strong jawline. For me, it didn’t take long enough to get to the court in Parramatta, and with my hand still held tightly in Nate’s, we walked up the stairs, where I glanced up briefly at the huge Australian Coat of Arms on the front of the building before we pushed through the glass doors and got into the lift.

  When the doors opened, Flynn motioned for us to sit. “I’ll go in and start, and when it’s time, someone will come and get you, okay?” he said to me as he rubbed a soothing hand over my shoulder.

  “Okay,” I said, nodding before leaning back into the chair. As we waited, Nate was silent aside from the pulsating muscle on the side of his jaw that told me he was trying hard to relax and keep it together.

  I jumped when the court door opened. An older woman wearing a conservative dark suit came out and motioned for me to come in. On somewhat shaky legs, I stood with Nate next to me, took a deep breath, and entered the courtroom. We were directed to sit in the front seats, directly behind where Flynn was sitting at a table covered in folders bursting with paper. As Flynn spoke, I zoned out, letting my eyes take in the surroundings. Sitting behind a long, heavy, carved wooden table were two men and a woman. The portly, balding, older gentleman that sat in the middle was introduced as a member of the judicial board. I could tell by his uniform that the other man was from the correctional facility, and the woman, a fairly young looking slim blonde, was a member of a community program that helped ex-offenders out on parole. At one end of the desk sat a slim monitor with a blank screen that flickered to life with an image that immediately caught my attention, making me suck in a gasp of air.

  The face on the screen was that of an older man, face lined with years of severity and harshness, a spray of home-style tattoos decorating one side of his neck. His eyes were as black as night, dark bottomless holes of nothing, just the way I remembered them. I needed to look away…now. I turned to look at Nate. His eyes were my salvation and what I needed to concentrate on right now, and that’s exactly what I did. I searched them for his strength, and although I saw a myriad of emotions swimming in them, I pushed past the anger and fury until I found it—understanding, validation, and love. I closed my eyes for a moment, just enough to balance myself, and when I opened them again, I found his
eyes searching mine. I gave him a slight nod, letting him know that I was okay.

  We listened to statements from the prison facility in regards to Max Sullivan’s long history of good behavior, steady work ethic while inside, his clean record in the last eighteen years, his clear mental state, and his newfound devotion to God. The young, blonde woman from the community support team had arranged for him to have somewhere to live, a part-time job, and his own private support team. I was starting to think that maybe I was the criminal because according to these people sitting in front of me, Max Sullivan was almost a perfect human being. If only they knew.

  By the time Flynn turned and motioned for me to stand up at the podium in the front of the room to give my victim impact statement, I felt completely drained and disheartened. I realized quickly that it didn’t matter what I said, they had already made their decision. I was only here as a formality, a tick in a procedural box, a duty from the State to the victim.

  Standing up, I placed my hands on top of the podium in front of me, slowly looked at the faces of the people in front of me for a moment, and inhaled deeply.

  “Please, Miss Tyler, you may begin whenever you like. The court does not wish to take any more of your time than is absolutely necessary today.” Looking up at the balding man sitting in the middle, I narrowed my eyes at him and swallowed hard, trying to push the instant anger his words had just caused down and away for later. Taking in a deep breath, I began.

  “Time. That’s a really important word to me because I have had a lot of it stolen from me; twelve years, to be exact. I know what you see written in the papers in front of you. You see a man who has done his time in prison and apparently done it very well. You see a man who has paid his price to society and deserves a new start with somewhere to live, even a job and plenty of support, and it makes me wonder where my support has been for the last twelve years. Because I wasn’t as lucky as Max Sullivan. Nobody gave me back what he stole from me. A home, support…nothing.” I took a moment to look at each and every one of them individually before I continued.