by Ashley Jade
“I have a meeting with your lawyer in an hour,” my dad informs me after she’s gone.
That’s…weird.
“Aren’t you my lawyer?”
He shakes his head. “No. It’s a conflict of interest and I don’t want to give them anything else to use against us.” A weary exhale leaves him. “I’m going to pull every goddamn string and kiss every fucking ass I have to in order to make a deal.”
The muscles in my chest draw tight.
I don’t deserve a fucking deal.
“Dad—”
“But,” he interjects, his voice taking on that serious tone again. “I need you to give me some information I can use.”
“What kind of information?”
His eyes roam to the officers on the other side of the hospital room. “Can I have another minute with my son?” When they look like they want to argue, Dad adds, “I promise if you give me two minutes, I will get the truth out of him.”
Get what truth out of me? He already knows everything.
“Two minutes,” one of them agrees before they step out.
“What—”
“Who were you selling drugs for?”
Nah, fuck that. I ain’t no snitch.
“Myself.”
My dad doesn’t buy it. “Bullshit. My friend at the precinct told me the packets in your car all have a unique stamp on them. A unique stamp that belongs to some kingpin they’ve been trying to nail for years now.”
I want to laugh because Loki isn’t exactly a kingpin in the drug game—not yet, anyway—but I do the wise thing and keep my mouth shut.
Disappointment flickers in his brown eyes. “You know, I was really hoping for once you wouldn’t lie to me.”
Given he recently found out I fucked his wife behind his back, his dig is more than warranted.
However, I can’t focus on that because he snatches my finger.
I try to yank my hand back, but I’m still in cuffs. “What the fuck—”
He presses the pad of my finger to the button on my now cracked phone screen.
“Goddammit, Dad, stop,” I bark as he rummages through my cell, looking for dirt.
Loki might not be kingpin status yet, but he won’t hesitate to have someone shoot my ass for ratting him out to the cops.
Then again…it would be justified.
An eye for an eye.
He holds up my phone triumphantly. “Got all the information I need. Thank you for being so accommodating.” Determination illuminates his face as he heads for the door. “Be mad at me all you want, Oak, but I will do whatever it takes to make sure you don’t end up rotting away in a jail cell.”
Rotting away in a jail cell is exactly what I deserve.
My guts twist with nerves as I walk toward the courtroom.
As if sensing my apprehension, my dad says, “Don’t worry. We made a hell of a good deal in exchange for you giving up Loki.”
Funny…because I don’t remember giving up anyone or making any kind of deal.
“Negligent vehicular manslaughter while intoxicated,” I whisper, repeating what he told me earlier when he informed me he pulled some strings and got me on the docket today.
“That’s right. It’s a wobbler, but—” Dad gestures to my actual lawyer. “We got them to agree to a misdemeanor.”
My lawyer slaps me on the back. “You’ll be on house arrest for six months…tops.”
Just like a ton of other wealthy, white privileged kids with connections.
My dad grins. “You’ll be fine. The time will fly by.”
Jesus fucking Christ.
No wonder Hayley’s parents are devastated.
Not only did I kill their only daughter—and put the girl I love in a coma that left her with amnesia—I’m about to walk without so much as a slap on the wrist.
Bile works up my throat as we amble through the courtroom doors.
It’s not fair.
“All rise for the honorable Judge Gennett.”
My muscles lock up, and a sick sensation slides down my esophagus as my lawyer starts talking.
She turned twenty-one in May.
For reasons I never understood, she loved listening to Justin Bieber on the highest volume possible and chugged sugar-free Red Bull every morning for breakfast.
Fries were her favorite food, but she didn’t let herself have them often because she claimed they made her thighs fat…but they didn’t.
The collar of my shirt hugs too tight around my neck.
She told me she loved me over dinner at Sushi Sushi for our sixth-month anniversary.
But I couldn’t say it back…because I didn’t feel it.
However, I wanted her to find someone who would.
But she never will…
Because she’s dead.
While I’m standing here in a courtroom…two minutes from freedom.
Cocking my head, I spot Hayley’s parents. They’re huddled away in a far corner of the bench on the opposite side of the room, holding on to each other like they’re all they have left.
Because they are.
Her father is trying his best not to cry, while his wife quietly sobs into a tissue.
Hayley’s never gonna graduate college and be a vet like she always dreamed.
Her mother will never help her daughter plan her wedding.
And her father will never walk his daughter down the aisle.
Because I selfishly took the life they created.
And soon, I’m going to brush past Hayley’s parents and go on living mine…
While their daughter remains buried six feet under.
How the hell are they ever supposed to find peace in that?
Easy. They won’t.
“I hereby sentence you to six months of house arre—”
“No.” My voice punches into the courtroom with the force of a bomb. “I don’t want house arrest.”
I’ve spent twenty-one years of my life creating messes that I’ve either let someone else clean up or run away from.
Not this time.
“What are you doing?” my father mutters, but I ignore him.
The judge blinks, no doubt caught off guard by my outburst. “Young man, from my understanding you made a plea agreement for six—”
“Fuck the plea agreement.”
A few people in the courtroom gasp. Hayley’s parents lift their heads.
“Excuse me, young man,” the judge says tersely. “One more word out of you and I’ll hold you in contempt.”
“Do something,” my father hisses to my lawyer.
Contempt isn’t long enough.
“I apologize, Your Honor,” my lawyer chimes in. “My client is going through a—”
For fuck’s sake.
“I’m not going through anything,” I interject. “Hayley’s parents are. So are the Covingtons.”
Because of me.
Confusion spreads over Judge Gennett’s face. “Young man, I suggest you—”
“Negligent vehicular manslaughter while intoxicated…that’s what I’m charged with, right?”
The judge nods. “That is correct.”
“Can you charge me with murder instead?”
Because I killed her.
“Oakley,” my father snaps. “Stop talking. Now.”
The judge’s mouth falls open. “Are you telling me you intentionally kill—”
“No. I didn’t, but—”
“I’m sorry, your honor, my client is under a lot of stress.” My lawyer clears his throat. “He isn’t thinking clearly.”
The judge fixes his glasses. “Well, I suggest you figure out a way to de-stress him so he settles down, or I will hold him in contempt.”
Thinking quick, I search my brain, recalling the facts my lawyer rattled off about my charge earlier. “If charging me with murder isn’t possible…can you give me the year?”
The judge sighs. “Young man—”
“Look, you’re the judge, right? That means you ge
t to override plea deals and can sentence someone to what the court allows for a particular charge.” I might not be a lawyer but being the kid of one means I do know some stuff. “Well, last I checked my charge is punishable by one year in prison in the state of California.” My insides tighten as I look him in the eyes. “And I’m asking you to sentence me to that year.”
It’s not much. Still a slap on the wrist, but Jesus fuck…it’s something.
“Oakley,” my father hisses, his face turning red with anger. “What the hell are you doing?”
The judge slams the gavel down. “Order in the court.”
My father once told me there were three times when it was okay for a man to cry.
When the love of your life walks down the aisle to meet you at the altar.
When your child takes their first breath.
And when you bury your parents.
But he never mentioned the fourth…
Taking a life that wasn’t yours to take.
And feeling so fucking guilty about it there’s no amount of drugs or alcohol in the world that will ever numb the pain.
“Please,” I plead, my insides churning with shame. “Give me the year. Hell, give me a hundred years.”
He slams his gavel down again. “Young man, I’ve repeatedly asked you to settle down. This courtroom is mine, not yours.” He pins me with a look. “I’m hereby sentencing you to three hundred and sixty-five days at the Blackford Correctional Center.” He turns to a man wearing a police uniform. “Take him away.”
I lock eyes with Hayley’s parents as they slam cuffs on my wrists. “I’m sorry.”
So fucking sorry.
Chapter 1
Bianca
Past…
“Did Mom come out of her room?”
Jace blows out a heavy breath. “No. She—” He hesitates. “She’s still sick.”
We both know it’s a lie. Our mom isn’t sick.
Not physically anyway.
No, what she has robs her of happiness, her husband a wife, and her children a mother.
What she has is pure evil.
Her sickness is something I don’t understand, but I wish I did so I knew how to help her.
The only thing I know how to do is love her.
Throwing my bookbag down, I race up the staircase.
“Bianca—” Jace starts to scold, but I brush him off.
She’s been in her bedroom for four whole days now.
Enough is enough.
I knock on the door, not bothering to wait for a response before entering.
As usual, she’s curled up in a ball under the covers.
Only, she isn’t sleeping…she’s clutching her phone.
No doubt waiting for my father, who is still away on a business trip, to call.
Whenever it rang, she perked up like the sun.
As if his voice was the cure for all her pain.
Removing my shoes, I crawl into bed with her.
We have an unbreakable bond that no one can destroy, and when she’s hurting…so am I.
“I miss you,” I whisper, draping my arm around her.
Lifting her head slightly, she gives me a small smile. “I didn’t know you were home from school already.”
It doesn’t surprise me. Whenever this sickness happens, she seems to lose all concept of time.
I trace my finger over the curve of her nose.
My mom is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
And the saddest.
“Bianca.” She laughs, pushing my hand away. “That tickles.”
It doesn’t. She just hates me drawing attention to the bump on her nose.
However, the imperfection is my favorite feature of hers. It makes her real.
“Do you want me to bring you up some food?”
“No, baby girl. I’m good.”
My heart sinks. “Oh.”
She hardly ever eats when she’s sick.
I trace the arch of her eyebrow with my finger and kiss the bump on her nose, trying not to let my disappointment show.
It will only make her feel worse.
Rolling over, I get off the bed. “I’ll let you get some sleep.”
I’m about to walk away, but she wraps her arms around my waist, tugging me back to her. “How was your day?”
“Fine,” I lie.
“Come on,” she urges. “Tell me the truth.”
Somehow the woman always knows when I’m full of baloney. “During recess, Julianna said I was too ugly to be a ballerina, and everyone laughed.”
Julianna is popular…and mean.
And unfortunately for me, I’m her target.
My mother swears my awkward phase—a horrible one that includes teeth that are growing in crooked and a mass of frizzy hair—won’t last, but I’m not so sure.
She cups my face in her hands. “Don’t listen to her. You’re beautiful.”
“I don’t feel beautiful.”
A wrinkle forms between her brows. “I already told you. What you’re going through won’t last forever. I went through an awkward phase too. But then—”
“But then you turned out beautiful and everyone loved you and you became a famous actress.” Annoyed, I look down at the carpet. “What if that doesn’t happen to me? What if I’m ugly forever and—”
“Baby girl, you aren’t ugly. Julianna is just a little bit—” she catches herself before she finishes that sentence. “Unfortunately, there are tons of Juliannas in the world. But the best way to deal with someone like that is to show her it doesn’t bother you.”
My eyes prickle with tears. The girl is ruining my life. “I’ve already tried, Mom.”
Tried and failed.
And every day that passes, it’s getting harder and harder to pretend it doesn’t hurt.
Visibly frustrated, she rubs her temples. “Okay, fine. You want to know a secret?”
I give her a nod. I’ll take any advice she’s willing to give me.
“Julianna won’t stop picking on you because she’s a bully who likes to pick on those she perceives as weak.”
Ouch. “I’m not weak. How do I get her to stop?”
Sighing, she closes her eyes. “I’m officially getting the worst mother of the year award for this.”
“Come on, Mom,” I press. “Tell me.”
Another long sigh. “If you want to make a bully back down you have to beat them at their own game. If she makes fun of you, then you make fun of her right back and expose her insecurities in front of everyone.”
“How?”
“Everyone has insecurities, baby girl. Study someone long enough and you’ll figure out what theirs are.”
I think about this for a moment and realize there may be something to this after all. “She likes it when everyone tells her how pretty she is and how good she is at ballet…even though she’s not.” Pursing my lips, I cross my arms. “I’m a way better dancer than she is.”
I might not be in ballet, but I have more rhythm in my pinky finger than Juliana has in her entire body.
Grabbing the comb off the nightstand, she motions for me to sit in front of her so she can brush my hair. “Then I guess we’ll have to sign you up for ballet classes, buy you the cutest costumes, and make that brat eat her words.”
Hope surges through my chest. “Really?”
She parts my hair in three sections and proceeds to French braid it. “I can sign you up for classes while you’re at school tomorrow and we can go shopping for shoes and leotards this Saturday.”
“You promise?” I ask skeptically as I pass her the hair tie from around my wrist.
Sometimes she said she would do things but didn’t end up following through because of her sickness.
However, she never broke a promise.
They were too valuable to her.
She kisses my cheek. “I promise.”
I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face if I tried. “You’re the best mom ever.”
She sec
ures the hair tie at the end of my braid. “Only because you’re the best daughter ever.”
A frown mars her pretty face when she checks her phone.
“Still waiting for Dad to call?”
That sadness is back again. “Yeah.”
“You really miss him, huh?”
My parents had a love story that could rival a fairytale.
Mom was working as a famous Bollywood actress in India when my dad went there on a business trip with his father.
They were sitting in a restaurant one night when he happened to look up at the table across from him.
It was love at first sight…for the both of them.
A few days later Mom dumped her long-term boyfriend, got engaged to my dad, and left behind her career to move to America and marry him.
Unfortunately, the abrupt marriage created some tension between her and her family.
She hasn’t seen them since the wedding, and for some reason my father forbids us to visit them.
Her frown deepens. “Promise me you’ll never fall in love.”
My parents have their issues and sometimes my mom says things that don’t make any sense to me. Things like—men were toxic, and you needed to destroy them before they destroyed you—but deep down I know she loves my father.
However, her new thing is making me promise never to fall in love.
“Why?”
Usually, I reassured her and vowed to do whatever she wanted, but I’m starting to grow curious.
Every fairytale made it seem like love was the best feeling in the world. I don’t get why my mom doesn’t want me to experience it.
Drawing her knees to her chest, she whispers, “I don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did.”
“What mistake—” My stomach knots as it occurs to me. “Am I a mistake? Are Jace, Cole, and Liam—”
“No,” she quickly assures me. “You and your brothers are the best things that ever happened to me.”
That’s comforting…sort of. “Then why is falling in love so bad?”
“Falling in love isn’t bad. It’s who you fall in love with.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You don’t now, but one day you will.” She cradles my face in her hands. “Love gives someone the power to break you…and if you give the wrong man that power…he’ll shatter your heart and ruin you.”
