June

Wesley—Twenty-Eight Years Old

“So, what do you want to do first?” John asks me once I get in his car and shut the door.

Sighing, I sit back and think about that. I can’t believe I’m actually out. Free. I have no home, and I have no family—other than John and his family, of course. And, after being in prison for the last ten years, I don’t even know what to feel. A mixture of relief, fear, loss, regret, and hope all flood through me at once.

Relief that I served my sentence and made it out in one piece.

Fear of not being able to get a job because of my record.

Loss of the last ten years. I went into prison a teenager, and now, I’m twenty-eight. I’m so far behind everyone else my age, it’s not even funny.

Regret for the mistakes I made, for the people I hurt in the process.

And hope that maybe I can start fresh and make some good decisions for once in my life. I want to accomplish everything I put on my list.

My stomach grumbles, and I make my decision. “I need a cheeseburger, French fries, and a beer.”

“Coming right up.”

Twenty minutes later, we’re in a pub, polishing off the most delicious bacon cheeseburger and French fries I’ve ever tasted. I swallow the food down with an ice-cold beer and realize this is the first beer I’ve legally purchased in my life. Not to mention, the first beer I’ve had in a decade.

“Catch me up. How are things with you and Reanell?”

John smiles. “Awesome. I can’t wait for you to meet her. I think she’s the one.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “The one? That’s huge.” My mind wanders to marriage. Who will want to marry an ex-con who served time in prison? No one. “What else? How’s your job?”

He shrugs. “It’s really good. I’m so glad I found this opening in town or else I would have had to move farther away from home than I wanted to.”

“What about your parents?”

“They’re so excited to see you. They wanted to come today, but I thought it might be better if you had a chance to get settled first before they attacked you.”

“Thanks for that.” My stomach prickles with anxiety.

Mr. and Mrs. Bellamy visited me several times a year, which I appreciated more than they could ever know. John told them all the details after my second arrest. Even though they were furious neither one of us went to them for help, they told me they understood I was only trying to protect Anna. That leads me to my next question. The most important one of all.

“And Anna? How is she?”

John hesitates, wiping the condensation from his bottle of beer. I try to read his expression, and my stomach drops with the fear that maybe she isn’t okay. Her letters and packages are what kept me going. I’m just sorry I wasn’t there for her when she was having her own struggles. John told me she was doing much better. His current reaction is not so convincing. I can’t wait to see her with my own eyes to make sure she’s happy.

“She’s…okay,” John hesitates, drawing out the word as if he isn’t sure it’s true.

“What do you mean, okay?”

He sighs. “I don’t really know, Wes. I think she’s…trying to be happy.”

“She’s trying? What does that mean?”

“Well,” he pauses. “You guys wrote each other over the last ten years, right?”

“Yes.” It feels weird, talking about those letters with John. I saved every single one. I’ve read them all more than once; some of the papers became soft and worn with all the opening and refolding.

“She just hasn’t been the same since…since she and Charlie broke up. She had that severe episode of depression, but the meds they put her on didn’t really help. She just felt numb. She hated being on the meds so much that I think she just…tries to convince all of us that she’s happy.”

Anna told me as much in her letters. I keep seeing the image of her smiling face in the picture she sent me, arm in arm with her friends. I hoped that smile meant she was getting better.

I rub the scruff on my jaw. “But you’re not convinced.”

He shakes his head. “Not really. But she doesn’t want to talk to me about it, so I’m not sure what I can do to help. Besides, she isn’t horrible. She works, has her own apartment, and gets along with Reanell. I can’t make her act like the old Anna. But I miss her.”

Fuck. My stomach hurts.

“Does she know…everything?”

Despite all of our communication, I never told Anna I worked for Bryce to protect her. It would only make her feel guilty, and that’s the last thing I want to do.

John shakes his head. “I tried to tell her, but she didn’t want to talk about it. Lately, when she’s upset, she tucks tail, hides in her apartment, and gets lost in a book.”

I try to picture it but can’t. My Anna is fierce. The first day I met her, she got in front of a bully to protect me. I guess that’s what happens when you’re away from someone for ten years. They change.

“Is she dating anyone?” I don’t know why I dare ask this question. But the urge to know outweighs the risk of John thinking I have a thing for his little sister.

“Ha. Anna date? As far as I know, she hasn’t dated anyone since high school. Not since Charlie. Whatever happened between them was enough to scare her away from relationships. I’ve been trying to set her up with my friend from work, but she clams up every time I broach the topic. Maybe you can help.”

“Me? How would I help?”

“If anyone can get to Anna, it’s you.” He studies me, a concerned and almost pleading look on his face. “You guys were always tight. Maybe you could try to get her running again?”

“You think running is a magical fix?”

“Well, no, I don’t think running will fix everything, but it might help her feel like her normal self again, even in the smallest way.”

I mull this over, studying the flecks of gray and gold in the laminate tabletop. I used to love running with Anna, so this wouldn’t be putting me out in the least. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you.”

“By the way, if I haven’t said it already, thank you.” I meet his eyes, hoping he can see the sincerity in mine. “For visiting me every month, for coming today to pick me up, for letting me stay with you while I get back on my feet. I just…” Emotion makes my voice thick, and I clear my throat. “I can’t thank you enough for always having my back.”

He nods, his brown eyes warm and bright with emotion. “You would do the same for me.”

And I would.