by Dawn Doyle
“Your grandpa’s losing his room at the retirement home,” she said, pulling me out of my thoughts. When I didn’t say anything, she reached behind her back and placed a pile of envelopes on the table. “His payments have been canceled, and neither of us did that. We checked, and the money hasn’t been coming from his account for a long time, it’s been coming from somewhere else.”
I didn’t need to read the letters to know they were from the retirement home. “So?”
“The account number listed there is yours, honey. You’ve been paying for your grandpa’s stay.”
I slumped back in my seat. “Yeah.”
“Why? He’s been nothing but mean to you, but you keep him in comfort for more than two years when you could’ve had him kicked out long ago?”
I shrugged. “It wasn’t for his benefit.”
“God damn it, Blaine, enough with the short answers! You’re not a child, so explain to me in more than a few damn words!”
I sat back and scrubbed my hands down my face before leaning forward to rest my elbows on the table. “Okay, fine. He’d already ran out of cash, so I stepped up so you didn’t have to.”
“There was no way I could’ve afforded to keep him there,” she countered.
“I know, and that’s why I did it.”
“Where did you get the money for this, Blaine? That place doesn’t come cheap, and I know you don’t earn that much from your job. Most of your paycheck goes to me.”
I nodded. Almost every cent I earned at Blacklocks paid for our home. “I made a good return on a few investments. I put the money to use. It keeps the old man from living with us because I’d smother him in his sleep if he did. I can’t go to jail—I’m too pretty.”
“And now you’ve run out,” a snide voice came from the doorway. We both turned to see Grandpa standing there in his light brown pajamas and moccasin slippers. “I always knew you couldn’t see anything through to the end.”
“Dad!” my mom yelled, but I put my hand up to let her know she was wasting her breath.
I stood and walked over to him until we were inches apart. I dipped my head, low enough so that I could see the look in his eyes when he found out why he was in the shit. “Oh, but I can,” I said, grinning. “I just stopped paying, old man.”
His jaw dropped, the angry glint in his eye replaced by surprise. “What?”
I shrugged. “Yeah. I figured it was time you found out that the piece of shit you hated so much was the one that was keeping a fancy roof over your head.” I shook my head. “Well, not anymore. I’ve had enough of your insults, your derogatory remarks, your snide comments when you think nobody can hear you. I’m not parting with a single cent for you anymore. It was for my mom, not for you.” I straightened and moved to walk past him, stopping when we were side-by-side. “No wonder Grandma divorced you. You’re a poisonous little man with nothing better to do than drag people down who don’t fucking deserve it.”
There was a scrape of wood against the tile, and my mom’s voice as she called after me. “Blaine, wait.”
I turned around and waited for her to reach me, my grandpa still frozen to the spot, his back to us. “All my life I’ve listened to him saying I was good for nothing, that I take after my asshole father and that he should’ve taken me with him, that you should’ve put me up for adoption when he left—”
“What!” she screeched. Grandpa spun around, his eyes bulging and his skin so pale he looked on the verge of death. “You said those disgusting things to my son?” She stomped to her dad and poked him hard in the chest. “Blaine is the only thing in my life that is worth a damn. He is a good boy, he’s smart, he’s caring and generous. He didn’t have to help you, but he did. Get dressed, and get out of my house.”
“I’m your father, you can’t do this to me,” Grandpa retorted, his fists clenched and his eyes blazing.
“You’re not even trying to deny it,” she snarled. “Blaine doesn’t take after his father, Dad, he takes after me. Get your shit, and get the fuck out of my life. This time, for good.” She turned back to me and threw her arms around my neck. “I’m so sorry I let him treat you like that,” she cried. “I had no idea he was saying those things to you.”
I rubbed her back but kept my eyes on the old guy as he skulked by. When he looked up at me, his rims red and full, I mouthed, ‘fuck you.’
The cab was waiting outside fifteen minutes later, and Grandpa walked out with his overnight bag. Nobody said a word as he got into the back, not even staying to watch as the cab drove away.
“Thank you,” my mom said when she closed the door.
“What for?”
She wiped her face, then smiled. “For what you did. Keeping him there meant he wasn’t here, apart from the occasional overnight stay or visits. Blaine, when they told him about the payments, they said he had until the end of the month to pay what he owed. He said he would live with us, but never consulted me about it. They’d already begun making preparations to move his things here.”
“Dodged a bullet, huh?” I said, hugging her.
“Sure did, my baby. There was no damn way he was going to live here, not a damn chance.” She grinned and pulled her lips into her mouth. “I got him a room at The Resting Place.”
I barked a laugh. “That shit hole?”
Mom giggled and then nodded. “He’s got enough money to pay the rent there. He’s not getting a single dime from us again.” I released her, and she walked toward the stairs. “Now I’m going to sleep better than I have in a long time.”
“I’ve just got a few things to do.”
“Don’t stay up too late, honey.” She took a few steps, then turned back around. “And Blaine? Your father leaving had nothing to do with you, you know that, right?” When I nodded, she continued. “It was all on him and the choices he made. I love you so much, sweetheart.”
I smiled, my chest warming at the sincerity in her voice and her kind eyes. “I love you too, mom.”
I watched her walk up the stairs, then headed back into the kitchen. I put my hands in my jacket pockets and pulled out my phones, and something else; it wasn’t mine.
“What the fuck?” I looked down at the old looking key, turning it over in my hands. “Where the hell…?”My voice trailed off when it dawned me how that particular key got into my pocket. “Darcy.”
Chapter 13
Robyn
Cold walls and hard floors had been my company for the past hour. My ass was growing numb from the hard plastic chair I was sat on, the dirty red color and the grubby wooden table reminding me of my old high school classrooms.
I looked down at my hands and the metal cuff attached to my wrists. What did they think I was going to do, fight my way out of the interrogation room?
‘Miss Thorstensen?’ A man in a police uniform asked as I opened my door. It was just after two in the morning, so I wondered why the hell they were knocking on my door.
‘Yeah, that’s me,” I replied, my eyes sliding to the female officer beside him.
She looked me up and down. ‘Miss Thorstensen, we have reason to believe you’re responsible for the theft of a vehicle belonging to Mica Burnett’
‘What? That’s impossible,” I said, rubbing my still-tired lids. ‘The last time I saw his car was when it was following me.’
‘You can tell us all about it at the station,” she said, reaching behind her.
The male officer spoke again. ‘Miss Thorstensen. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you by the court. With these rights in mind, are you still willing to talk with me about the charges against you?’
My heart thudded violently against my chest at the thought of being charged again with something that wasn’t my fault.
The gray door opened, pulling me out of my recent memory, and Derek walked in, my shoulders sagging with relief of a familiar fac
e.
“I didn’t do it,” I said for quite possibly the hundredth time. “I swear, Derek, I never took the damn car.”
Derek took a long breath through his nose and slowly blew it out as he opened a dark beige file, and read the contents. “It says here that they found some of your belongings under the seat. Burned, but otherwise yours.”
“Somebody must have put them there because I haven’t been in that car in months!” It was true. The last time Mica had given me a ride, it was when my own car was in the shop for its annual service. “Do you seriously think I would leave anything behind if I’d stolen it?”
Derek shook his head. “Only if you thought it would be destroyed when you set it on fire.”
I sagged back in the chair, the line digging into my shoulder blades. “I never took Mica’s car, Derek. How could I? I was with my boyfriend in his car. Mica’s car followed us, but when we got back, he said he hadn’t left. Somebody took his car, went after us for a while, and we never heard anything about it again.” I’d run through the story over and over again, and no matter how many times they asked me questions as if trying to catch me in a lie, the answers were always the same. “I don’t even know what possessions of mine were in there—they won’t tell me,” I said, pointing to the door, both arms up in the cuffs.
He looked down at the paper. “It says here that there was a pen with a chewed lid, a notepad from the coffee shop, and your black apron.”
I balked. “How? My apron was at work this morning. The pen and pad were in the pocket.” Tears brimmed my eyes. “Please, Derek, you know I wouldn’t do this. Why would I risk violating my probation? I have a damn black box in my car so I don’t even break the speed limit!” I lifted my hands and roughly swiped my tears away. “Call Blaine. He’ll prove to you that I was with him.”
There was no point in calling anybody else; they wouldn’t have seen anything. Everybody was inside at the party, so nobody would’ve seen me getting into Blaine’s car, not even Mica. For all they knew, it was possible I’d taken it and went on a joyride.
“Blaine’s in the next room,” Derek said, closing the file.
“He is?” My heart rate shot through the roof, my stomach rolling over and over with panic. I needed to see him, I couldn’t breath knowing he was right there and I couldn’t get out of this fucking room to go to him. “Can I see him?” My hands trembled on the table at the same time dark spots rained down on it, dripping from my chin. “Please, Derek, you have to help me.”
Derek stood, then tapped the file. “Even though your fine is paid up, you’re treading a thin line, Robyn,” he said. “If what he says is true, then I strongly suggest rethinking your romantic choices before you do end up behind bars.”
“What?” I whispered. I hadn’t paid up at all; he was mistaken. “You’re not making any sense. What’s Blaine said?”
“Somebody’ll be by to release you soon,” he said, opening the door. “He’s confessed.”
A giant punch to my gut caused all of the air in my lungs to come out at once, winding me, rendering me unable to suck in oxygen. I began to choke, my throat constricting as I tried to breathe, my chest tightening. I attempted to stand, my weak legs giving out right away, and I fell back onto the chair, the legs scraping the floor as it slid back.
“No, he didn’t do it,” I choked, my fresh tears running freely. “He was with me.”
“Well, whatever did happen, Robyn, I sure hope you had nothing to do with it because if it turns out that you did, your home for the next two years will be damn smaller than this room.”
The door clicked shut, and I broke down. Scorching hot streams fell down my face as I unleashed the sobs that had built up inside me. “He didn’t do it!” I screamed as loud as I could. “He didn’t take that piece of shit! Blaine!”
I pressed my head down onto the table, letting the solid surface dig into my skin, the pain against the flat bone doing nothing to distract from the pain inside my chest. I knew what was happening, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Blaine had made his choice, and it was the wrong one.
“Aunt Joan,” I croaked, as I was led to the front desk of the police station, my throat hoarse and my eyes stinging from crying hard. “He didn’t do it.” I’d repeated myself over and over, but nobody was listening to me.
She rushed over to me and held me close. “Robyn, what were you thinking?” She pulled back and held me at arm’s length, checking me over. “How can you be a part of this?”
“Of what?” I snapped.
“Blaine stole Mica’s car and set it on fire.”
I shook my head quickly, then gripped her arms as she held mine. “He didn’t. Mica’s car was stolen weeks ago. If Blaine had taken it, which he didn’t, why would he wait until now? How did he get my apron from the shop this morning and put it inside?”
Aunt Joan’s eyes narrowed as though she was thinking it through. “Your apron? Blaine hasn’t been in the shop today, Robyn. How could your apron get in the car when I saw you put it away before you left?”
“That’s what I’ve been saying!” I led her outside and down the long step toward the sidewalk. “Blaine confessed, and I know it was to keep me from getting into trouble. I don’t know how he found out because they would only let me call you, but there has to be a way to fix this. I’m not letting him take the blame for somebody else.”
“Robyn, this is serious, honey,” she said sternly. “We need to get you home and rested before you do something you can’t take back.”
I nodded, then made my way to her waiting car. Once she got me home, there was somebody I needed to speak to. I didn’t give a crap how big and scary he was, there was nothing scarier than a woman on a mission, and that woman was me.
“I don’t care that it’s four in the morning, open the fucking door!” I yelled, pounding my fist against the solid surface and ringing the doorbell. “I swear to fucking God, that if you don’t tell me where he lives, I’ll start breaking shit!”
The door flew open, and there stood an incredibly sweaty Lucian, his hands bound in wraps, his breaths coming hard and fast. “What the fuck are you doing here, and why the hell are you looking for Nate?”
“What’s going on?” Luca came into view as the door opened wider. "Robyn, is everything okay?" she asked, tightening the belt on her white silk hooded robe. The red edging made it look like it would be for a fighter.
“No, it fucking isn’t,” I snapped. “Where does Nate live?”
“Why?” She placed her hand on Lucian’s chest. “Baby, I’ll deal with this, okay? Go back to your training.”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Something got her riled up like this, and I need to know why.”
“Come in.” Luca gestured inside.
“No, I just want to know where Nate lives, so he can tell me why he set Blaine up before I cut off his balls!”
“He what?”
Lucian stepped forward and looked around even though their property was well away from the street where anybody could hear. “Get inside, Robyn, I’m not asking. Get your ass in here and tell us what the fuck happened.”
“Nate wouldn’t do that,” Lucian said when I informed them of my fantastic experience. “He might be an ass sometimes, but there’s no fucking way he would do anything like that to Blaine.”
“Oh really?” I snipped. “I know I only met you a couple of days ago, but I think differently. Don’t you think it’s a little coincidental? Nate forces me to tell Blaine about my record, then two days later, cops turn up at my door, arresting me for stealing and burning out Mica’s car? He did say he’d been sitting on my info for a while.”
Luca picked up a phone from the counter near the fridge and put it to her ear. “Get your ass over here, Nate. Something’s happened to Blaine, and we need you.”
“What the fuck happened?” I heard him yell. “Where is he?”
My mind began to whirl. Had I got it wrong? Nate sounded like he was worried, an anxious tone
to his voice that surely wouldn’t be there if he were responsible.
“He’s at Lake View police station,” Luca replied. “They arrested Robyn for stealing Mica’s car, then Blaine showed up and said it was him.” She put the phone down. “He’s on his way.” When my knee bounced, and my fingernails found their way to my mouth, Luca walked over to me and placed her hand on my shoulder. “Robyn, we’re gonna get this mess sorted out, okay?” She glanced at Lucian then back to me. “Blaine can talk himself out of anything.”
“I don’t know why he did that,” I said, shaking my head. “Why did he say he stole the car when we both know it’s impossible?”
“Because he’s an idiot, that’s why,” Lucian said. “But he’s an idiot that’s in love with you. Blaine might be a thief, but he wouldn’t do something stupid like that unless he had a fucking good reason.”
“I’m sorry, did you just say he’s a thief?”
They looked at each other, their eyes wide. “Robyn, did you and Blaine not talk about this when you left here?”
I shook my head slowly, staring them as I moved. “We talked about my accident and arrest.” Ice-cold shivers ran down my spine, a high pitched ringing going through my head as I tried to understand what they were telling me. “So that’s what Nate meant when he said people would look closely and we’d both be fucked.”
Lucian rubbed his forehead. “Oh, shit.”
I blew out a sharp breath. “Yeah. Oh, shit is about right.”
Blaine
The room next door had grown quiet, and I was going out of my fucking mind because I didn’t know where Robyn had gone, or what had happened to her. The moment I realized where that key had come from, I knew something was going down. I wasn’t expecting a text to lead me here, though. The message had said, ‘I hear Lake View Police Station is quite accommodating.’ I didn’t understand what they were playing at, but now they’d involved Robyn—maybe to get her out of the picture, but I wasn’t going to let them drag her down to my level. The confusing part about it was, why plant the key on me?
