Chapter Eight
Emmett was mine during the next few weeks, and I couldn’t remember a time in my life when I was so … happy. It didn’t matter to me that his sister refused to slither back to Texas or that whenever Mrs. H saw us together, her brow furrowed in a worried frown. The only thing I could think about was him. The way he was slowly learning my body during other times spent at that same hotel or in his truck or wherever else we could find a moment alone to devour each other. The way he said my name just after he kissed me. The way my chest tightened every time he looked in my direction.
I was falling—hard. So damn hard that somehow, I’d forgotten that all good things had to come to an end. For me, it wasn’t the end of July, but a week before, when I came home from the nursery to find Hazel ransacking my bedroom.
“What are you doing?” I demanded. Before I could stop myself, I was halfway across the room, my hands on her shoulders as I jerked her to her feet. “Get the hell out.”
She shoved her face close to mine, a cruel gleam making her green eyes look like shiny marbles. “You stole my necklace, you trashy little bitch, so give it back before I call the cops.”
I froze, my brows drawing together in confusion. I released her shoulders and dragged my hands through my hair. “Okay, what is your deal with me? I haven’t touched anything of yours.”
“Right.” Pushing me aside, she stomped toward my closet, but I blocked her. “Move, slut,” she snapped. I put my hands on my hips and lifted my chin in defiance. Oh my god, this woman was a piece of work. Eventually, she shrugged a shoulder and smirked. “Fine then, have it your way.”
A few seconds after she pulled out her phone and punched in the numbers, making sure she jabbed all three buttons slowly and dramatically, I knocked the phone out of her hand. It landed on the braided rug between our feet.
“How can you call the cops when I have no idea what you’re accusing me of?” I shouted.
“Because if you didn’t do it, you’d move out of my way to let me in the closet.”
The sound of shuffling at my bedroom door dragged both our attention toward Mrs. Hudson. She gripped the doorway with one hand for support and flicked her gaze from me to her granddaughter, and then back again.
“What’s wrong?” she asked tiredly.
Since I was still at a loss, I held up my hands, shaking my head helplessly, but Hazel breezed past me to stand in front of her grandmother. “The Tiffany necklace Mom and Dad gave me for my birthday? It’s missing.” She rubbed her palm across her collarbone, and I held back the urge to roll my eyes at the theatrics. This was a serious accusation. One I was relieved had nothing to do with me. “Considering McKinsey’s had no problem taking things in the past, I wanted to make sure she didn’t—”
“Are you fucking with me?” I blurted out at the same time Mrs. H harshly whispered, “Do you know how serious it is to accuse McKinsey of something like that?”
Nodding, Hazel turned her back to Mrs. Hudson. Her green eyes were full of triumph as she waltzed to my closet. “Of course I know, but if she didn’t take anything, she wouldn’t have a problem with me looking, right? After all, I’ve already searched the rest of the room.”
“Without my permission,” I said through my teeth, and Mrs. H cast a disgusted look at Hazel.
It didn’t even faze her. “If Kinsey’s clean, I’ll apologize.”
Slowly Mrs. Hudson walked into the room and approached me. She took my hands into hers, and even though I knew what would happen next, my heart still felt like it was sinking when she said, “I know you didn’t take anything.” She took a deep breath, and I could see just how much this was hurting her. “But please, just to keep the peace …”
Because I was sure there was a bottle or two leftover from the night Lyra stayed here, I was terrified of what Hazel would find in the closet, but I moved my head up and down. Mrs. H finding out I’d snuck alcohol in the house was so much better than leaving her to think I was a thief.
“Fine,” I whispered.
Wearing the most insincere forlorn expression I’d ever seen, Hazel knelt down on her hands and knees and poked her immaculately styled face into the closet just as the sound of heavy boots thundered up the stairs. I was already so mortified that I wanted the floor to swallow me. I wasn’t sure I could handle Emmett witnessing his sister make a fool of me.
When he popped his head into my room, I shot him a pleading look, but as soon as he took in the sight of Mrs. H and me—and his sister rummaging through my belongings—he was fully involved.
“What the hell is going on?”
“My Tiffany necklace is missing,” Hazel snapped. He walked into the room, stopping just a few feet away from me. I lowered my eyes to the floor. “Just wanted to make sure our resident thief didn’t get bored.”
“Don’t be a bitch,” he growled, and Mrs. Hudson gasped. “Sorry, Mim, but it’s true. Hazel’s had it out for—”
“What have we here?” his sister interrupted him, the surprise in her voice sounding unmistakably gleeful. The sound of bottles clinking together made me cringe, and when she plunked the half-empty box of wine coolers on the floor next to Mrs. Hudson’s feet, shame washed through me. A second later, Hazel threw something else out of the closet, and I was horrified when I focused in on a box of condoms.
“I’d remove the vibrator,” Hazel said, “But who knows where it’s been.”
“Please,” I whispered. “Stop.”
But she climbed as far into the closet as she could, making little oohs and ahhs, until Emmett rushed toward her, gripped her shoulders and pulled her to her feet. “This shit has to stop,” he roared.
But she shook her head. “I’m sorry your bang-buddy is a thief, little brother.” Despite Mrs. Hudson’s groan and the look of sheer disappointment that crept into her dark eyes, Hazel continued, “Who knows what else she’s stolen while living under this roof.” She lifted her hand so everyone in the room could see and slowly opened her fist.
At first, I wanted to believe she wasn’t holding anything.
She shouldn’t have been holding anything.
But then I saw the same necklace I’d given back to her after she dropped it on the porch a couple weeks ago. The one with the diamond olive leaf. My fingerprints were all over that thing, and who the hell knew what it was worth. Dread spread through my body as I backed toward my bedroom door and three sets of eyes turned to look at me.
Hazel’s conquest.
Mrs. Hudson’s disbelief.
And Emmett’s shattered heart.
♫
“I didn’t take anything,” I told Mrs. H frantically a half an hour later as Hazel talked to the cops. I’d been instructed not to leave the couch, so my foster mother sat a few inches away from me, staring numbly at the giant black and white blow-up of her wedding portrait that hung over the fireplace. “I swear I didn’t take it.”
Emmett had refused to listen to me—had refused to even look at me—but Mrs. H’s hand found mine, and she gave it a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll get this worked out, McKinsey.”
She believed me. I almost let out a sob of relief as she held my hand, but I said nothing. I said nothing when one of the officers told me they needed to take me in. Or when I walked past Hazel’s smirk. Or when Emmett turned his eyes from me as I was escorted to the squad car.
I said nothing, and hours later, as I sat in a holding cell because Hazel Hudson was most certainly pressing charges, I wished I would’ve opened my mouth.
♫
“Jesus, what the hell are you doing in here, girl?” the voice speaking to my back stopped me cold in my tracks, and I clutched the threadbare towel closer to my chest, breathing deeply before I gathered up the courage to turn around and face her. This was my third day here—the first I’d ventured into the general population.
I should’ve expected I’d run into her.
Two women stood in front of me, but my gaze zeroed in on the one I knew. The one who’d alwa
ys left. I hadn’t seen her in nearly eighteen months, but she hadn’t changed a bit. Same smirk. Same mahogany hair hanging limply around a face that had gotten too old too soon, thanks to too much partying. Jessica Bell was a couple inches shorter than my five foot seven, but I still felt as small as a child when she swept her denim blue eyes over me.
“Mom,” I said, my voice raw.
“Give me minute,” she told her friend, who smirked at me before nodding and heading away. Putting her hand on her hips, my mother shook her head slowly in disappointment. “Come on, girl. Let’s go sit down.”
From our new spot on the floor with our backs to the wall, Mom gazed out at a group of women playing cards and rubbed the tips of her thumb and middle finger together—the same way she always did when she was deep in thought. At last, she looked at me. “I’d told myself you were smart enough not to end up in here.”
“Wasn’t I bred for this?” I snapped, and when her eyes hardened, I stared down at the floor, shuffling my feet until a scuff mark formed on the slick surface. Mrs. H would be so disappointed in me if she heard me talk to my mom like that. I twisted the collar of my shirt between my fingers, wishing my key necklace hadn’t been taken during booking. “Sorry.”
“I probably deserve it.”
She did, but that didn’t mean I needed to be rude to her. I licked my lips. “I didn’t do it, Mom.”
She snorted. “That’s what they all say, sugar.”
“Is Dad in here too?”
When she laughed, I felt the sharp slap of ridicule taking in her incredulous expression. “Do you see your dad?” She held her arms out wide, gesturing to all the women around us. “How the fuck should I know where he is?”
Which meant he was the reason why she was behind bars in the first place. Why wasn’t I surprised? Clearing my throat, I brought my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms tightly around them. “Are you going to be here for a while? Just in case …” But my mother moved her head from side to side. Coldness whooshed through my chest.
“Thank god, my three months are up next week.” She tilted her head to the side, narrowing her eyes. “From that scared look on your face, I’m guessing you don’t know how long you’ll be here.”
“I didn’t do it,” I whispered. “So I’ll be fine. Someone will come for me, and I’ll be fine.”
Her lips parted to say something, but then she stopped herself. Gulped down whatever she was about to say that would rip me apart a little more. “I sure as hell hope so, Kinsey.”
An awkward, painful silence settled over us until finally my mother scooted to her feet. Wiping dust off her ass, she stared down at me and the pity in her gaze numbed me. “Once your time is through, we could try to fix things. I was a baby myself when I had you, but I’ll try my best.”
This is what I’d hoped to hear almost my entire life, but for some reason, I felt numb as I looked up at her and slowly bobbed my head.
I didn’t do anything wrong.
Things would be fine because I didn’t do anything this time.
Everything would go back to normal, and I’d be able to go home.
♫
But I didn’t go home.
And other than one uncomfortable visit from my mother two weeks after she was released, nobody came for me.
So I waited.
And just when I finally gave up after a couple months, when I finally came to terms with the fact that I had nobody—no Emmett, no Mrs. H, not even my mother whose letters had been returned to me marked Moved, Left No Address—I finally got a visitor.
Lyra.
She sat across from me at visitation, her pink lips pressed together, and her hands starch white because she was gripping the phone so tightly. “I’ve been worried sick about you. I would’ve come sooner, but my mom has a bad habit of collecting my mail for months, and I just got your letters when I was home in Savannah,” she whispered. She put her hand against the glass separating us, and I swallowed down the sob threatening to explode from the back of my throat. If I hadn’t cried in the last several weeks, there was no point doing it now. Not even when Lyra reminded me of just how screwed I was. “A year. They gave you a year. I’m so sorry, Kinz.”
“I didn’t do it.” I’d been saying it for so long, it sounded robotic now. I touched the glass, earning an eye roll from the woman in the next booth over. “Hazel set me up.”
Lyra closed her eyes. “I didn’t think you did, I just—”
“That crazy bitch set me up because she thought I’d ruin her brother’s career and then she poisoned Mrs. H into hating me too.” I’d written long letters to both Emmett and Mrs. Hudson and neither had responded—not that I’d expected them to. My fingerprints had been all over Hazel’s necklace, and given my history, I didn’t have a leg to stand on.
That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell to feel abandoned.
My friend took a deep breath. “Kinsey … I don’t know anything about Emmett, but Mrs. Hudson …”
The hesitation in her voice froze my spine, and I knew I didn’t want to hear what she was about to say next. I knew it would finally break me.
And it did. Because what Lyra said next was worse than waiting or being alone.
What she said finally broke the numbness and dragged out the sobs I’d been holding in since I was arrested because I kept telling myself that I would figure it out, that things could be okay.
Mrs. Hudson was … gone.