Chapter 13
Jake
Kailey stares at Carmen as if Carmen is a creature from another world. I have no idea what to say. Carmen just said some heavy stuff. Her aunt is a murderer, and Mrs. Philips is paying her employees to keep this quiet. I pull Carmen into a hug. My only desire is to protect her. She wraps her arms around my waist. In this moment, the poor girl is so fragile. I kind of forget how much younger than me she is. I kiss her forehead.
“It will be all right,” I whisper to her.
“I tried to tell you. But you kicked me out,” Carmen says against my chest, and that makes me feel horrible.
“Carmen, you need to tell the police,” my sister insists.
“And what would that solve?’ Carmen asks as she breaks away from me.
“There would be justice for Amy,” Kailey argues.
“And what if the police don’t believe me? What then?” Carmen asks, her eyes growing fearful. She has a point. Kailey frowns.
“Why wouldn’t they believe you? Kailey asks.
“Because, I have no proof,” she cries.
“She isn’t telling,” I declare. Carmen is afraid, I can see it in her eyes and body language. Since the shooting, she hasn’t been able to take risks. I can’t blame her. But Carmen has to tell the police what she knows, or she’ll regret it. I don’t bother to tell her any of that. Instead, I look around the room and spot the takeout bag at the table.
“Eat,” I tell Carmen. She shakes her head.
“I’m not hungry.” Sighing, I wrap my arms around her shoulders and start steering her toward the table. At first, she barely cooperates. But then, she sees reason.
“Raisins?” I ask Kailey, noting the package she’s clutching to her chest. She might want to write about something else. How great, another sappy romance that I have to edit. Danny doesn’t even support Kailey because writing is impractical. My parents want her to focus on school. Kailey is a pre-law major and is at the top of her class. But I can’t see her being a lawyer.
“Yup, I just came up with the best idea! Okay so…”
“Kailey, don’t bother. I’ll be reading it later.”
“Reading what?” Carmen asks before biting into a greasy burger. I sit at the table across from Carmen and try not to notice the grease saturating the wrapper to the burger. I’m not a half nut. Anyone can tell you that I love beef jerky and doughnuts. I just like good quality junk food.
“Her novel,” I tell Carmen, who seems interested.
“You write novels?” She seems excited, and I know that this might be beneficial to me. Maybe someone can pick up the slack. Kailey writes a novel a month and with my schedule, sometimes it takes me two to edit the book. I’m unsure of what my sister does with the finished masterpieces. Your guess is as good as mine.
“She writes impossible love stories,” I tell Carmen, who frowns.
“What do you mean?” Carmen softly asks.
“Love stories that happen between two very unlikely people. The last one was about a woman who falls for her prison guard.” Carmen looks interested.
“What’s that one called?”
“Untitled number six.” Each of her books starts off with untitled and ends with a different number so that we can keep track of them,” I explain. Kailey is uncharacteristically quiet. I catch sight of her with my peripheral vision. She’s sitting at the desk eating raisins as if she is munching on the most delicious treat in the world. I don’t bother disturbing her. The story must be taking form in her head.
“Do you think that she would let me read a novel?” Carmen tentatively asks, as if she’s intruding.
“Do you have drop box?” I ask.
“Yes,” Carmen replies.
“I’ll send you a link to the folder,” I say, digging out my phone. Relief springs over me when Carmen, truly distracted, begins eating in earnest. Good. We can’t have her starving. She needs to be distracted. When Carmen feels safe, I’ll take her to the police station so that she’ll reveal this tragic situation to the detectives working the case. Amy Gallagher had been working with the Philips family for ten years. We got along very well. I would hate it if she didn’t get any justice. Hell, I would give the police a hint myself if it comes down to it. But I’m not good with words. Carmen will have to get use to the idea.
“Jake, what happened between you and Adriana?” Kailey asks. Not this again. Kailey is convinced that my love story with Adriana would make a good novel. Carmen keeps her face perfectly neutral, because she also wants to know what happened. I don’t bother telling them. Instead, I glare in my sister’s direction. She, of course, isn’t looking at me. Her eyes are fixed to the ceiling as if a message is written there.
“Why does she want to write a story about something she doesn’t know about?” Carmen asks me. She doesn’t address Kailey because it’s clear that my sister is still in her own world.
“Because, she wants to understand how someone could be in love with me.” Carmen’s mouth drops open. “I already told her why Adriana fell for me. She thought that I was something I wasn’t.”
“You keep on saying that,” Carmen says. “What do you mean?”
“I mean what I say.” In truth, talking about her isn’t going to right my wrongs, so why bother? If Carmen thinks that I’m going to give her any more than what she needs to know, she can forget about it.
“Jake, I get it. But what did she think you were?” She’s clearly pushing this. Because Carmen’s dealing with the fact that her Aunt killed a maid who happened to be her husband's mistress, I don’t snap at her. Instead, I rub the back of my neck to keep the infamous Jones temper from exploding into her face.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I respond.
“You never want to talk about anything that has to do with you,” Carmen mutters. That is another one of my pet peeves. If you want to say something to me, don’t say it low enough in hopes that I can’t hear it. I get out of my seat, walk over to Carmen and squat by her chair. I reach out and cup her chin with my right hand.
“What did you say?” Her eyes bore into mine. She isn’t going to back down which makes my pulse rise. Her lips are so close. I could just lean in and suck her lower lip into my mouth. But I don’t. I don’t want a serious relationship with Carmen. No, that’s a lie, I can’t be with her. She needs way more than I could ever give her, emotionally. And on some level, I know that Adriana and Alex are right, I am controlling. I also know that I’m not changing. I want things a certain way, and that’s how it’s going to be.
“I want some ice cream,” she tells me, m catching me off guard. Her defiant look almost causes laughter to bubble up on the surface. Almost.