Watching over the girls is the only thing that’s keeping me here. And yesterday, the only thing keeping me from going with River to turn herself in was the fact that she begged me not to. She didn’t want me to see her in case… my throat aches like I’m trying to swallow hot bullets…in case they took her away.
I only agreed to give her an incentive—if things went south, instead of her seeing me in masked pain, she’d leave that courtroom with a better memory of me; one worth fighting for. I also agreed as a show of confidence; confidence that she’d return. Neither of us could say it out loud, but we both feared she’d receive some jail time.
Yes it was self-defense, yes it was an accident, and yes there was supposed to be a rape victim who’d agreed to testify at River’s pre-trial on her behalf. But I didn’t trust for a second that Richard Westfield wouldn’t try to run interference. A gnawing in my gut tells me that’s exactly the reason River isn’t sitting here beside me.
I lower myself onto the steps, then check the time again. 3:08. Damn. This isn’t getting any easier. I scroll back through my messages and triple-check to make sure I didn’t miss a call or text. Nothing new. I stare at the name on the last call—my mom telling me that my Gram’s last round of chemo didn’t work. She’d taken a turn for the worse and they were talking weeks, maybe days. Mom was trying to book a flight for me so I could get to Kentucky as soon as possible. The timing is crap, but if the chief finds what he’s looking for soon, River will be home, and I’ll take her with me. No question.
It would be good for her to get away, but more important, it would mean everything to River to say good-bye to my Gram. She’d been a part of her life almost as much as mine: visiting most holidays and spending every summer in Texas. For the last month of River’s mom’s life, Gram even took a leave of absence from her job so she could help take care of the family after Jack fell apart.
River had to get out of jail; she had to go with me, end of story. I scrub at the stubble on my face; it’s rough where I didn’t shave this morning because River showed up early. My lips tug up when I remember our conversation: she asked me to try to understand that she didn’t want me to come with her to turn herself in. I told her I would if she’d try to understand this…and then I stalked across my room after her like a hungry lion.
Lucky for me, she had a positive response—more positive than I could ever have imagined. I close my eyes and taste her cherry chapstick on my lips, feel the weight of her body on mine, her curves. Goosebumps lick their way up my neck and I rub my arms. I can still feel her on my skin.
The flutter of birds’ wings brings me back to the present and I stare out at the flock sailing over the lake. Their wings beat in a synchronized motion, fighting to keep up with each other—fighting to stay together. I understand their desperation.
The screen door squalls and slams shut, reminding me I’m not here alone. The four of us stayed here all night: no sleeping, barely speaking, moving through the motions in our own private hells.
“This fucking sucks.” Kat drops down beside me and joins me in staring out at the dock or lake or the sky—anything that isn’t each other.
I nod because I don’t have anything to add; she’s just summed up everything that needs to be said about this torturous waiting game.
She offers her cigarette pack to me and I hold up my palm in response. I don’t smoke and she knows it, but it’s the only thing she has to offer me right now. Words of comfort are useless. Words of comfort would be noise filling up empty space that can’t be filled. Not with words or cigarettes or anything except River.
“When she gets out,” Kat pauses, then forces the words out, “it’s going to be real important that we stay close to her. You and I both know what she’ll be facing.”
My shoulders tense; the day I stopped by to check on Jamie a few weeks after Logan died is still fresh in my mind. Three girls had her backed against the metal shed behind her trailer. They were calling her names and talking trash about River, insisting she knew where her sister was. Before I could reach them, the tallest girl grabbed Jamie by the hair and threw her down.
Thank God, I showed up before they did much physical damage, but the real damage had already been done. Jamie had always been this sweet, sensitive, wide-eyed kid who looked up to her sister to take care of her. Over the last few months I’d watched her toughen around the edges. She didn’t have a choice.
It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that the reception for River will be even uglier. Even if the verdict is self-defense and charges are dropped, people have strong opinions about what happened that night.
I rub at the scar on my knuckle from where I’d decided I wasn’t in the mood for those opinions on one particular occasion. “I don’t plan on lettin’ her out of my sight.”
“That makes two of us.” Her lighter clicks and there’s complete silence for a few seconds. “Justice, what are we gonna do if…”
Kat doesn’t do bullshit and neither do I, so I don’t try to tell her it’s not gonna happen—that thing we both fear that neither of us can stand to think, much less say out loud. I tell her the only thing I can, the only thing I know that’s true for both of us. “No matter what happens today, we’re gonna be there for her. No matter how long it takes.”
A choke escapes Kat’s mouth and at first I don’t recognize it for what it is; a sob. Damn. Just damn. I’ve never seen Kat cry or anything close to it. River had always been tough and I’d only recently seen her crack for the first time. But Kat…she was in a league all her own.
Instinctively, I move to put my arm around her like I would a friend, like I’d done with River a million times. I guess Kat and I qualified as friends; we’ve never hung out much but we had River in common. Mid-reach I stop. This was Kat, who didn’t do bullshit or needless words or Hallmark moments. She was just as likely to rip my arm off and beat me with it, so I re-route at the last second and reach for her cigarette pack between us instead.
Because she’s sniffling now and I don’t know what the hell to do, I pluck out a cigarette, grab her lighter and fire it up. Companionship is better than nothing.
I take a draw and cough so much that Kat’s sob turns into a laugh and I couldn’t care less that it’s at my expense. “Pathetic,” she grumbles.
“I’ll stop smokin’ if you stop cryin’.” I keep my eyes on the cancer stick between my fingertips and wonder what the attraction is.
“Deal.”
I drop the cigarette onto the step and grind it with the toe of my boot.
“Justice Braden, you’re the only guy who’s ever been good enough for River.” Her words rush out as if she’s afraid she’ll lose her nerve.
For the first time since she joined me on the porch, I look at her. Despite her sincere attempt at smiling, tears spill over the half-fists doubling as speed bumps beneath her eyes.
“And you should know,” she places her trembling hand under her nose and sniffs, “that besides Billi Jo, you’re the only person on the planet I’m willing to share the title of River’s best friend with.”
I’m stunned speechless because I’ve never seen or heard Kat like this, so I just sit there and let her do or say what she needs.
After a couple minutes, she swipes her palms across her cheeks and clears her throat. “And by the way, good call on the whole putting your arm around me thing.”
I grin, relieved she’s pulling it together. “That mean you wouldn’t have hurt me?”
She shrugs. “I probably wouldn’t have hurt you for that.” Her green cat eyes narrow; the fire I’m used to seeing in them has returned. “But if you tell anyone I cried, I’ll kick you in the nuts. Hard.”
“Noted.” I wince, trying to erase the visual. “That your messed up way of telling me that we’re friends—by association?”
Kat glares at the mangled cigarette beside my boot, then at me. “I let you have my last cigarette, didn’t I?”
A definite yes. I shake my head and smil
e. Even if our whole lives were about to be ripped out from under us, it gave me comfort knowing we were in this together. Like the flock of birds, we had a common destination, and until we could reach it we’d stick together. For River.
HOMECOMING
Gravel crunches beneath tires and my heart hammers when I see the front end of the chief’s cruiser. I make it to the bottom of the steps, then my entire body freezes until I spot River in the passenger seat. I blink up at the sky and fight back the emotions begging to rush out of me. I want to cry and laugh and howl, but most of all I want to grab hold of her and never let her go.
But I can’t, not yet. I’m not the only person in this. Everybody here deserves their time with her as much as I do. Besides, my limbs have gone numb and my feet are rooted to the ground like a hundred year-old oak tree. I bounce the side of my fist against my lips, a reminder that now’s not the time to lose it.
Air catches in my throat when she steps out of the car. She’s gorgeous. Wearing the same blue button-down shirt and gray skirt she left my house in, she doesn’t look like she spent the night in jail. Her long brown waves curl almost to her elbows and my fingers flex with the urge to touch them. Her eyes are glass-marble blue, hopeful but with a shadow behind them I wonder if anyone else can see. I ache to be the one to make that shadow go away.
I strain to listen while she answers Jamie’s question about the verdict; charges dropped, probation restrictions, the nightmare is over. Standing here, watching her with her sister, then her friends is like being trapped in a straitjacket when the person offering me escape is right in front of me.
Then finally, finally, those beautiful eyes meet mine. I pat my hand on my heart—our signal that I’m with her; that everything’s going to be okay.
Her perfect rose-colored lips edge upward, then mouth the words ‘time-out’ and I make my move. To hell with restraint or walking all calm and cool, I bolt for her like I’m on fire. She’s barely had time to take a step in my direction when I reach her and lift her off the ground. Wrapping her arms around my neck, she buries her face in the crook of my shoulder and it feels so good I’d swear someone set off Fourth of July fireworks inside my chest.
“Three months’ probation, huh?” I ask.
“Yep. Can’t leave the state or get into any trouble.”
“Keeping you in Texas shouldn’t be a problem.” I grin and pull away just enough to rest my forehead against hers. “Keepin’ you out of trouble is gonna be the tough part.”
“I have a feeling that won’t be a problem as long as you stick around.” She says it like she’s teasing but something tells me she’s asking a question.
“Oh, I’ll definitely be stickin’ around. In fact, I’m thinkin’ house arrest sounds like a good idea.” I push her hair behind her ear and take in the intoxicating scent of honeysuckle. “Just you and me.” I whisper, then smile when she shivers in my arms.
“I like the way you think, Braden.” She laughs, then wraps me in another choke-hold.
I spin her around one more time, then set her down, and the way she’s staring at my lips means there’s no doubt what she wants right now. There’s no doubt what I want either and when I lean down to make it happen, I suddenly remember we’re not alone. I glance over her shoulder at her dad, who’s staring at me like he might take me out right here if I kiss his daughter with the passion I guarantee is written all over my face. The way I want to make her forget everything but me is gonna have to wait. Like tires screeching to an abrupt halt, I manage to pull up short and land a kiss on her forehead instead.
My phone buzzes in my back pocket but I ignore it. Then I remember I’m expecting a call so I slide it out and stare at Mom’s text: Here’s jour flight information—-plane leaves tonight.
Then it hits me like a mule-kick to the gut; River’s on probation. She can’t leave Texas; taking her with me is not an option. I won’t be around to protect her, to help her get through one of the toughest transitions in her life.
I have to leave town. Without her.
“What’s wrong?” She blinks up at me beneath her thick dark lashes.
“I have to go out of town…it’s an emergency.”
Her blue eyes go wide, waiting. Waiting while I decide what the hell I’m going to tell her—anything but the truth.
“It’s…it’s for work.” Saying good-bye to Gram and being there for my mom is definitely going to be work, but I have to do better than that if I’m going to ease the pain on her face. “Yeah, it’s some disaster thing up North. I knew I might get called to go, I just didn’t think it’d be so soon.” Technically, not a lie.
She nods like she understands but I can feel her fingers grasp tighter around my shirt and see the panic begin to seep into her eyes. She doesn’t need to say it out loud for me to get that she’s afraid to face what her life might be like now that she’s home. And I hate the idea of her trying without me.
I lace my fingers with hers. “I’m sorry, my plane leaves in an hour. I have to get goin’.’”
“I can drop you off at the airport,” she says, her voice edged with desperation.
“No. You need to stay here with your friends, your sister.” Besides, she doesn’t need to be out driving alone. Not right now. Not without me.
“I’ll be back before you have time to miss me.” I shrug, acting like it’s no big deal. “I’ll call you every night, every morning, every chance I get. You’ll be sick of me before I even get back.”
“I doubt that.” She rolls her eyes, attempting to mask her fear, but I see straight through her.
I check the time on my phone again, then slip it back into my pocket. “I’m sorry, but I have to go now.” She nods and I press my lips to her forehead. “Seriously, if you need anything, if you wanna talk, if you don’t wanna talk but just know that I’m on the other end of the line, then you call me, okay?” I say because there’s nothing else I can say to make her feel better right now.
I release her hand slowly, turn to leave, and I’m two steps away when I hear her. “Justice.” Her voice is small and fragile and it nearly brings me to my knees. Then suddenly I know what to say.
I turn back to her, close the distance between us, and gently take her face in my hands, making sure she’s looking straight into my eyes. “We’re gonna be all right, Darlin’.”
Her breathing hitches and her body relaxes beneath my touch. Those are the words she’s always understood in tough times. Our words.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
My road to publication was not a sprint; it was a marathon, made possible by the following people…
Kevan Lyon, my rock star agent who gave me the first chance and hung in there with me through all the close calls until I finally got a ‘yes’!
Marie Romero, my brilliant editor who saw something in this story that made her take a leap of faith and work tirelessly alongside me to turn it into more than I ever imagined it could be.
The entire team at Tulip and Spencer Hill Press whose joint efforts helped transform this manuscript into a book.
Katie McGarry, Kurt Hampe, Kelly Creagh, Bethany Griffin, and Bill Wolfe: my unbelievably talented critique group who are so much more than that.
Kurt and Bill, for your painfully honest critiques right from the start, for “showing not telling” me how to make improvements, and having faith that I was capable.
Bethany and Kelly, for setting the bar so damn high, pushing me to be a better writer, and sticking around while I struggled to find my way.
Katie, I would not be writing this acknowledgement page if it weren’t for you. Without your guidance, friendship, second, third, and tenth reads this book would not exist. I can never thank you enough for believing in this story and in me.
A shout-out to the SCBWI organization, the tool used in leading me to these remarkable people as well as navigate this complicated journey. Also, to the RWA and the wonderful, talented ladies of the Louisville Romance Writers—especially Alison Atlee, my accomplice in r
oad trip adventures…and misadventures.
My enthusiastic, yet honest teen beta readers: couldn’t have done this without you:
Skyler Ballard, who is almost always excited to read drafts or listen to my crazy ideas even when she’s busy trying to become the amazing person she’s meant to be.
Spencer Goff, Jennifer Jackey, Brooke Smith—you guys are off-the-charts priceless.
These special ladies for your unwavering support, an abundance of laughter, and friendship throughout the years:
Lee Ann Helton for being on this path with me from day one, and never failing to “get” me.
Angela Smith, who never minds psychoanalyzing imaginary people with me, and is always there for me when I’m the one who needs to be psychoanalyzed.
Courtenay Goff, who never fails to give me ‘just do it’ speeches when I need them.
Lori Jackey for never pressing ‘ignore’ when I call with endless research questions, and taking me on the best behind-the-scenes fieldtrip ever.
Joanie Rogers and Keyata Harman for your guidance and generosity in helping me survive a ridiculous amount of horse drama.
Rebecca Roberts, who is as terrible at ‘friendship maintenance’ as I am, but who’s always been awesome at standing by me.
My extended family, my Ballard family, and the rest of my incredible friends and cheerleaders who are not mentioned by name; know that I appreciate each and every one of you and that you are a huge part of why I’ve made it this far.
Last but not least, my three favorite human beings for sacrificing my full attention when I’m immersed in another world. And for reminding me what really matters.
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