Release

by Aly Martinez

  With a renewed spirit, I’d tucked his stupid letter under my mattress and set about making a life for myself, because one day, when he got out, that life would extend to Ramsey too. Whether he wanted it to or not.

  “You’re still holding on to that shit? Jesus, woman, you have issues,” he stated matter-of-factly.

  I nodded. “Yep. And I can trace every last one of them to when I was ten years old and this kid jumped out of a tree and broke my leg.”

  He cocked his head and then cut me to the core as only Ramsey could do. “Funny. I can trace all mine back to that same goddamn day. Considering you were the reason I ended up in this hellhole, you got a lot of fucking balls showing up here today.”

  “Ramsey!” Nora scolded. “Don’t you dare!”

  I deserved that though.

  The color drained from my face. It was his one valid argument. I’d considered it countless times over the years. I’d spent a lot of nights sitting under our old tree, wondering if he would ever forgive me. God knew I’d never forgive myself.

  He’d never cast any blame though. Not in his one letter. Not to Nora. Not until that moment outside the prison when he revealed the only scenario in which I deserved exactly what he’d given me over the years—nothing.

  I rocked back a step, the sheer force of my guilt becoming more than I could withstand.

  He stared at me with a malevolence that was so unlike the boy I’d once known that it felt like a physical blow. I’d prepared myself for him to be different. Nora had warned me over and over again. There was no way a person could have lived through everything he had and still be the same sweet boy who’d spent the majority of his youth hiding in trees.

  It burned like the hottest fire to witness it in person.

  It would have been one thing if I’d been there to watch him grow. To see his heart callous over and harden. But I hadn’t been there. He wouldn’t let me.

  “I…” I shook my head as tears welled in my eyes. “I’m sorry… You have to know that I would never hurt you on purpose.”

  His jaw ticked, but he cut his gaze to the side.

  Desperate, I took a step toward him, the tears finally escaping. “Ramsey, please. Can we just talk? Or maybe you just listen. Anything?”

  He flinched and then shook his head. “I can’t do this. I gotta get out of here.”

  “Ramsey, please!”

  Suddenly, a man in a uniform came strutting out of the building, walking straight to the gate. “Hey!” he yelled. “Everything okay out here?”

  Head to toe, Ramsey turned to stone. To a stranger, it would have only been his posture that changed. But I saw it, and being so close, Nora felt it.

  A wave of panic crashed into him, momentarily washing away his anger and stealing my breath. His Adam’s apple bobbed and then his face fell tragically blank.

  The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as Nora and I exchanged knowing glances.

  “It’s fine,” I chirped in my telephone voice, the one I usually reserved for obnoxious clients.

  Nora moved first, hooking her arm through Ramsey’s. “Yep, all good. We were just leaving.”

  The officer swung his gaze over the three of us, seemingly convinced when Ramsey started walking with Nora and slowed only to snag his trash bag of belongings off the ground.

  I swear I didn’t breathe again until Ramsey was in the back seat, his seat belt on, and Nora pulled out onto the main highway.

  Well, that’s not totally true. As I used the rearview mirror to watch him sitting in the back seat, his elbows on his thighs, his head hanging down, not peering out the window with wonder, reveling in his newfound freedom, a pang of guilt hit me so hard that I wasn’t sure I’d ever breathe again.

  Suddenly, for the first time in twelve years, eight months, three weeks, four days, thirteen hours, and eighteen minutes, I was terrified that this wasn’t a fight I could win.

  Twelve years earlier…

  “Thea,” my dad called, knocking on my bedroom door.

  Confused and still half asleep, I mumbled an unintelligible, “Go away.”

  “Thea, honey, you need to get up. There are some police officers here that want to talk to you.”

  I sat straight up in bed, my heart lurching into my throat as memories from the night before came crashing down over me. My watch read six forty-five and the sun was barely peeking over the horizon, but Ramsey’s side of the bed was blisteringly cold.

  “Thea? Did you hear me? You need to come out here and talk.”

  Oh my God, Ramsey had told them. He’d told them about Josh. I’d begged him not to say anything. He had no right. I wasn’t ready to even think about what had happened much less talk to my dad and a bunch of strangers about it.

  “Thea? Are you—”

  “I’m coming,” I croaked. “Give me a second to get dressed.”

  Bruised and aching from head to toe, I swung my legs over the side of the bed.

  What the hell was I supposed to tell them? Maybe I could lie. It’d be Ramsey’s word against mine. It’s not like he was actually there or anything.

  I walked to the full-length mirror in the corner of my room and peeled my pajamas off. My wrists and my arms were black and blue, and so were the inside of my thighs. I had a bite mark on my shoulder and one on my breast. None of which had come from Ramsey. Bile crawled up the back of my throat and I fought the urge to throw up.

  Summer still lingered in the Georgia air. I wasn’t going to be able to pull off long sleeves and jeans without ringing alarm bells, so I put my pajamas back on and snagged a hoodie from my laundry hamper. As I tugged it over my head, I practiced my lies:

  “Nothing happened.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I think Ramsey must be confused or something.”

  My stomach wrenched when my dad knocked again.

  With my pulse thundering in my ears, I opened the door and flashed my father the best smile I could muster, which admittedly wasn’t much. Things with my dad had gotten better over the years. Or maybe I’d gotten used to the distance between us. He liked to know where I was going and when I was going to be home. Which at least showed he cared. But he rarely asked questions or told me no. Really, it was more like a roommate situation rather than a father-and-daughter relationship.

  Concern like I hadn’t seen my dad wear since the day my mom was diagnosed with cancer was etched in his face. “Are you okay?”

  Damn Ramsey and his big mouth.

  “Yeah. I’m fine, why?”

  He swept his hand down the hall, where two uniformed officers were standing.

  “Miss Hull,” the older of the two men greeted. “Sorry to wake you. Can you come have a seat and maybe answer a few questions for us?”

  I made my way to our small den, asking, “About what?”

  “Ramsey Stewart.”

  Yep. I was going to kill him.

  I settled on the couch, while my dad and the officers stood around me. “What about Ramsey?”

  “He told us that he was with you last night. Can you tell us a little about what you two were doing?”

  I blinked. What the hell did they want to know what Ramsey and I were doing for?

  “We…were, uh, we were just hanging out.”

  “I thought you were with Tiffany?” my dad interjected.

  The younger cop lifted his hand to silence him. “What does that mean, hanging out?”

  Nerves rolled in my stomach, not quite understanding where this was going. If they knew about Josh, why were they asking me about Ramsey? “We have this tree on the Wynns’ property that we go to sometimes. We just kinda sit around and talk.”

  “Drinking?” he asked.

  My head snapped back. “No.”

  “Mr. Stewart do any drugs while he was there?”

  My pulse quickened. “No way.”

  He stared at me for a long second, searching my face. “Okay. Then can you tell me about what time Ramsey left l
ast night?”

  Alarm bells started screaming in my head. Something wasn’t right. This wasn’t about Josh. Or at least not about what he’d done to me.

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “I don’t know. Can you tell me why you want to know?”

  The cops looked at my father and I followed their gaze.

  He was pinching the bridge of his nose. “Thea, please just answer the question.”

  What the hell was going on?

  “Not until someone tells me what the hell is going on.” Panic bloomed in my chest. “Where’s Ramsey? Did something happen?”

  And then my dad spoke the words that ended my life as I knew it. “He’s in police custody, Thea. Josh Caskey was hit by a car last night. It was Ramsey’s car. Josh didn’t make it, so please, this is important. You need to tell them everything you know about what happened and where Ramsey was last night, because right now, he’s about to be facing some pretty serious charges.”

  My heart stopped and my lungs felt as though I was breathing poison. I was safely in my den, but I felt the blowback of the entire world as it exploded.

  “No,” I breathed, shooting to my feet. “That’s not possible. Ramsey wouldn’t…” Oh my God. After what Josh had done to me, there was no telling what Ramsey would have done. Tears sprang to my eyes as I stood there shaking my head. “You don’t understand.”

  One of the officers stepped forward. “Then make us understand, Thea. We can’t help Ramsey if we don’t know what happened.”

  Help him. They were going to help him. I was mortified about what Josh had done to me, but there was literally nothing I wouldn’t do for Ramsey. Not even burning at the stake to save him.

  But as I frantically yanked off my hoodie and began showing the police my bruises while word-vomiting every disgusting, filthy detail of what Josh had done to me, I had no idea I was tying Ramsey to the stake beside me.

  I found out later that Ramsey had told them that it was an accident and that he’d thought he had hit a deer that night. The police had no reason not to believe him.

  That is until I had unknowingly handed them the gift of a motive.

  It wasn’t my fault Ramsey went to prison. He’d made his own choices that night. But it was absolutely my fault that the prosecutor had been able to charge him with first-degree murder. The fact that he’d taken a plea deal, reducing it to voluntary manslaughter and sentencing him to sixteen years in prison, had not eased my conscience.

  It clearly hadn’t eased his resentment, either.

  “This is bullshit and you know it,” I rumbled at Nora. “I could get in trouble with my PO for having someone else living in the house.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Relax. I reported her on the parole paperwork.”

  “Just not to me though, right?”

  She shrugged. “Pretty much.”

  We were sitting in a fancy steakhouse Nora and I had been talking about since the day I got word of my release. It was my big celebration. Nora had insisted on steak and I’d agreed, telling her as long as it didn’t come from a can and wasn’t served on a plastic tray, I was game.

  I was regretting everything about that conversation now though.

  I’d just found out that my new home was Thea’s home too. Did I get a choice in the matter? Not fucking one. You’d think I’d have been used to that after so long in lockup.

  Fucking Thea.

  She was the last person in the world I’d wanted to see when I took my first breath of fresh air. She’d changed. Not that I’d assumed she was still sixteen or anything, but on the rare occasions I’d allowed my thoughts to drift to her, I had nothing but my memories and those didn’t age.

  I couldn’t tell if she was taller or not, but she’d filled out into a woman. Boobs, hips, butt. All the things I’d been looking forward to when I got out. But not with her. For fuck’s sake, she was wearing a damn dress and heels. That was more than enough to turn my stomach.

  When I had seen her climb out of that car, I’d had some sort of visceral reaction. Every pain I’d experienced over the years sliced through me. It was a wonder I’d stayed on my feet.

  I’d nearly suffocated in that car on the drive over to the restaurant. And Nora was now telling me I was going to be living under the same roof with Thea too?

  Fuck. That.

  But that argument could wait until I wasn’t on the verge of a panic attack. The restaurant was too busy. Too many people. Too much talking. Too much moving around when we were supposed to be eating at the fucking table.

  Only we weren’t supposed to be doing anything. Everyone was on their own schedule. Coming and going at will rather than on orders.

  It was too late for lunch. Too early for dinner.

  It was…too much. All of it.

  And Thea was there. That was pretty much the definition of too much for me. I glanced up to the bathroom she’d disappeared inside only seconds earlier. How was she there? Better yet, why was she there?

  I was a dick. This was not something new. But even with as much as my vision had flashed red when I saw her standing outside of that prison, I’d had no right to lay into her with the bullshit about her being responsible. I just had no idea what else I could say to her to make her leave me alone. Letters—all the fucking letters over the years. If she would have just moved the hell on the way I’d told her to, we could have saved half a damn rainforest and all of my sanity.

  It had been almost thirteen years. She should have been married and two kids deep. Or at the very least living in Paris and traveling across Europe on the weekends. But not Thea. I have no idea why I was surprised. She’d always been stubborn as hell. It didn’t help my cause that she and Nora were obviously ganging up on me.

  I was free but trapped all over again.

  If I could paint a picture of what prison life was like, it would be nothing more than a black canvas with the tiniest speck of white in the center. That speck was the only light I’d had to navigate the darkness. Hell had more flames, but there were a lot of nights I would have rather been burning alive. The loneliness was debilitating, and growing up in prison was paralyzing. As a six-three seventeen-year-old back in Clovert, I had been the big man on campus. In lockup, I was nothing but a child men got their kicks trying to break. My smile was no protection in there. Grinning like an idiot made me a bigger target. That was when I lost it.

  Adapt or die, right?

  And for the first year, dying was exactly what it was. The person I was had to die in order for me to survive in that place. Yes, I missed Thea. I missed Nora. I missed our tree and having somewhere to escape to when life got rough. I missed stars and the summer breezes. I missed belonging and trusting and loving and being loved. I missed living in a world where it didn’t feel like the walls were going to close in at any second.

  But obsessing about everything I was missing only made the days harder and the nights longer.

  I had to let them go. Longing and hope were useless emotions that hung around my neck like a noose. With every thought, every memory from home, it got tighter until I was only days away from hanging from a bedsheet in the corner of my cell.

  Call me a coward.

  Call me a quitter.

  Call me an asshole.

  But you’d be amazed by the things you’d do in order to survive.

  Hate was easier. And God knew I’d needed something in my life to be easier.

  I tore my attention off the door of the women’s restroom. “I’m going to ask my parole officer if he can find me a room to rent for a while.”

  “Uh…no, you aren’t.”

  “I’m not fucking living with her.”

  I loved my little sister. She was smart and funny and honestly the only reason I was still alive. But Christ, the woman excelled at bitchery.

  “I want to care how you feel right now, Ramsey. I want to sit here and give you everything you could possibly want, but what you want is not what you need. Living in some trashy glorified cell where you have n
o idea who is coming or going in the rest of the house is not a safe place for you. You’re on parole. Having a place to live is only part of the requirements.” She lifted her hand and started counting off using her manicured fingernails. “You also have to maintain employment and avoid criminal activity, drugs, and alcohol. Plus, you can’t travel within sixty miles from home. One step out of line and you’re right back in there to serve out the rest of your sentence. That’s three years, Ramsey. Three.”

  I ground my teeth. “I can’t live with her.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “Both.”

  “Fine. You want to bullshit me that you don’t love her—”

  “It’s not bullshit,” I rumbled.

  “It is. But if you want to lie about it, then fine. I’m not going to stop you. But, right now, you need to be surrounded by people who love you. I’m not asking you to put a ring on her finger.”

  Panic hit my chest. “That’s not fucking happening, Nora. Do you understand me? Let go of whatever fairytale bullshit you’ve made up in your head. She is nothing to me.”

  “Then you should have no problem living under the same roof as her.”

  “Nora,” I warned.

  “She was your best friend once. It’s not too late. You could have that back.”

  “I don’t want it back.”

  “You don’t want what back?” Thea asked, suddenly appearing beside me.

  Surprise was not a positive emotion in prison.

  Rational thinking told me that it was just Thea. Twelve years of experience caused me to shoot to my feet, knocking my chair over behind me.

  Thea scrambled back.

  Nora shouted my name.

  And my heart pounded as my head tried to separate reaction from reality.

  It was Thea.

  It was Nora.

  I was at a restaurant.

  I was free.

  Only this didn’t feel like freedom. There were no bars. There were no guards. There were no cells. But after years and years of conditioning, the prison was inside my mind now.