It’s been two weeks since the break in, and even though only a few remnants of that night’s devastation remain, each creak of the house is more unnerving than the last. I never noticed all the noises this place makes until after the break in, but now, I hear everything. The shift in the air vents each time the AC kicks on, the running water from the fridge when another slat of ice cubes is made, it all piques my awareness and forces a jump to my heart rate.
My mother arrived the following morning. I didn’t want to come back home, but I knew she wouldn’t be okay with me spending another night with Kason, so I wound up sleeping in her bed a few times before I was able to return to my own room.
Still, every now and then, I have a hard time sleeping. Kason will stay on the phone with me those nights, although I’d rather be at his place. Never in my life had I been so scared as I was the night of the burglary. It wasn’t until Kason came for me that my sheer panic started to settle. I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep that night, and even though my nerves were rattled with fear, when I was in his arms, I was eventually able to get some rest.
All the electronics and broken goods have been replaced, new front doors installed, and the holes in the walls patched up. Investigators were able to locate a couple pieces of my mother’s jewelry that ended up in a pawnshop in Fort Meyers. Three men were later arrested. It turns out they were retaliating against the man my mother is representing who’s about to stand trial for first-degree murder charges.
Everything hit the news yesterday, and it’s now known that my mom is the one who will be defending this man’s case. It wouldn’t have been so bad if her client hadn’t made his way into the media over a year ago when the murder happened.
My mother has never been in the public eye, but she explained to me that she’s never worked a high-profile case before, either, so it was bound to hit the news as the trial drew near.
“Do you believe he did it?” I asked, not liking that my mother would defend a murderer.
“It doesn’t matter what I believe, sweetheart.”
“How can you say that? How can you defend someone if you know they’re guilty?”
“It’s a complicated thing for some people to understand, but whether he’s actually guilty or not has no relevance on the case.” She went on to explain, “In the courtroom, there’s a difference between factual guilt and legal guilt. The only thing that matters is legal guilt, and that’s up to the prosecution to prove. It’s my job to defend my client no matter what I think. It’s more than my job—it’s their right. In the end, I don’t hold the gavel, the judge does.”
I still don’t know how she could stand behind a man she knows is a killer.
I decided to stay home from school today because I’m scared to find out if anyone knows about this. And if they do know, have they made the connection that the lawyer being interviewed is my mom?
Trying to keep myself busy, I find a movie to watch until Kason gets out of school. When the doorbell finally rings, I turn off the security alarm, which now has a small video screen linked to several cameras around the property.
“Hey,” Kason says when he steps inside. “What’ve you been doing all day?”
“Nothing. I’ve been so bored.”
We make our way to my room, and he tosses his backpack next to my dresser before settling on the bed.
“Why are you smiling at me like that?”
“Because,” I tell him. “I got you something.”
“I thought I told you no gifts.”
“It’s your birthday, Kason. Did you really expect me not to get you a gift?” My smile grows. “Close your eyes and no peeking.”
He shakes his head, and when he closes them, I walk into my closet and pull out the Victoria custom Poly skimboard that’s hiding in the back.
“Your eyes still closed?” I call out.
“They’re closed.”
I’m full of excited anticipation when I crawl onto the bed next to him, holding the board in my hands.
“Okay. Open them.”
His reaction is priceless, and I can’t help but giggle.
“Happy birthday!”
“Are you kidding me?” His eyes gleam in disbelief, and when I give him the elite board, he runs his hand over the smooth carbon fiber finish.
“Do you like it?”
“How did you . . .?”
“Micah helped me with the customizations.”
He takes in all the upgraded detailing, and I know he’s probably thinking I overdid it, but I don’t care. He works so hard for everything he has that he deserves to have a top-of-the-line board.
“No one has ever done anything like this for me. I don’t even know what to say or how to thank you.”
“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted to get you something you’d love.”
He sets the board aside and pulls me over his lap. “If that’s all you wanted, you didn’t have to get the board.” Running his fingers through my hair, he draws my lips down to his, murmuring, “There’s nothing I could possibly love more than you,” before kissing me.
It’s a kiss laced with gratitude and humility, and I’m happy that I could do something special for him on a day he’s always considered unimportant.
“I don’t deserve this.”
“The board?”
His hands cradle my cheeks. “Any of this. The board. You.”
“Me?”
“Sometimes you feel too good to be true, and I wonder what I did so right to have someone as incredible as you in my life, loving me the way you do, because you do it perfectly.”
“You have it all wrong.” I drop my forehead to his. “I’m the undeserving one.”
The two of us slip down into the bed, eager as always to be as close as we can with each other. Knowing we have time on our side before my mom is supposed to be home, we take advantage. With hands exploring, I relax into his touch—the only touch I ever want on me.
I reach to unbutton his shorts, but he stops me. Before I can ask him why, he kisses my lips, nudges my legs open, and grinds himself against me. We move this way for a while, making out and kissing so deeply, I no longer know whose breath I’m breathing.
Needy for his touch, I raise my hips to him, and he’s quick to give me what I want when he slides his hand beneath my unbuttoned shorts. My fingers press against his back, and he watches me as I ride on how good his love feels when we’re as close we are right now.
One hour melts into another as we slow down and cuddle into each other. I’m finding it harder and harder to keep myself from going further with him. There’s hardly a day that passes that we don’t find ourselves lost in the affections we share. A few times lately, I’ve had to stop him from touching me before I do something I’m not sure I’m ready for. He’s temptation to the ninth degree, and my feelings for him are unbounding, which makes it difficult not to go the final step.
After a while, Kason and I go out back and sit along the edge of the pool.
“Was anyone talking about me today?” I ask as I hook my ankle around his from under the water.
“A couple of people.”
“Seriously?” I fret.
“You can’t skip another day, Adaline. It’s only going to make them talk more.”
“What if they say something to me?”
“Ignore them.” He reaches over and holds my hand. “You have me, and no one is going to talk shit if I’m with you.”
“And when you’re not with me?”
“Then you have Micah and Trent to fill in the gaps. You don’t have anything to worry about.”
I shoot him an unbelieving side glare.
“I’m home,” my mom announces as she pokes her head outside. “I picked up dinner from Jackson’s.”
When we go inside, Kason is quick to tease, “I was hoping you’d cook for me, Cheryl.”
“You’ve known me long enough to know better,” she quips back, because her idea of cooking is pasta with sauce from a jar. My dad was the cook in our family, not her.
She pulls out the salads and an array of sushi rolls as Kason helps by grabbing plates and silverware. I love that, after spending so much time over here, he blends right in with my mom and me as if this were his home, too.
“Did you get the cake I ordered?” I ask.
“I put it in the fridge, dear.”
“You didn’t have to get me a cake.”
I look at him like he’s a crazy man, exclaiming, “That’s the best part about birthdays—the cake!”
“She’s right, Kason. What’s the point if there’s no cake?”
“What kind did you get?”
“Italian cream.”
We carry all the food into the dining room, and after we sit, there is nothing but silence and the soft clinks of our silverware as we eat.
After a few minutes, my mom looks between us. “So, did you two get signed up to take the SATs yet?”
“We registered for next month,” Kason tells her before popping a bite of sushi into his mouth.
“As if the hundreds of tests we take in high school aren’t enough, they make us stress out and pay for this one.”
My mom smirks. “Stressed? Really?”
“Okay, maybe I’m not stressed, but everyone else is.”
“Because everyone else is taking it seriously, babe.”
My mom laughs.
“I’m taking it seriously,” I defend. “I’m just not freaking out about it.” I stab a piece of lettuce with my fork. “I’m not kidding, Mom. It’s all anyone can talk about at school.”
“Speaking of, are you going back tomorrow?”
“Yes,” Kason answers for me.
“Why do I feel like the two of you are ganging up on me here?”
They both chuckle and shake their heads as I chomp down on a crouton.
“They’re already talking about me, you know?”
She sets her glass of wine down and drops the humor, saying, “I know this is hard on you, dear. And if there were anything I could do, I would. But this is a high-profile case, one that could do a lot for me if I can win it.”
“I know. I just . . .” I sit back in my chair. “The man killed his own child, and now everyone knows you’re the one defending him.” As soon as she opens her mouth, I cut her off, saying, “And before you start with all that allegedly stuff, the last thing I want is to be singled out at school.”
She looks to Kason. “How bad is it?”
“A few kids are already talking, but I don’t see it getting bad. There’s new gossip every week. This week happens to be about this.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You aren’t the one they’re talking about.”
“They aren’t your friends,” he says, softening his voice. “So, what does it matter what they say?”
I shove another crouton in my mouth.
We continue chatting as we eat our dinner. Kason begins asking my mother questions about various trials she’s worked. Long after we’ve finished eating, they are deep in a conversation about one of her previous cases where her client had hired a hit man to kill her husband, only to find out it was all a sting operation. He’s entirely enthralled by the story, asking her one question after the next while I revel in contentment for the relationship they’ve forged this summer.
My mother’s cell cuts into their conversation when it vibrates against the table. She silences the call as soon as she looks at the name on the screen.
“Who was that?”
“Nobody.” She takes another sip of wine and returns her attention to Kason.
Her screen lights up and buzzes once more, and when I look over the table, I see she has a new voice mail from my dad.
“Why is Dad calling you?”
“We’ll talk about it later, dear.”
“Why can’t you tell me now?”
There’s reservation in her silence, which only amplifies my curiosity.
“Mom?”
“I’ve been trying to talk to him about reaching out to you,” she says.
“He’s a jerk,” I lash out in irritation. He hasn’t bothered to call me—not once—since the night he threw me out of his house.
“That may be true, but he’s also your father. And that relationship is important to me.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re important to me. You’re my favorite,” she stresses. “It hurts me to see the two of you at odds when it was never supposed to be this way.”
“He made it this way when he chose her over us. He hurt you, too, Mom.”
She sits back and fiddles with the stem of her wine glass, and I hate him for walking out on us. My mother never let the divorce effect the lifestyle we had been accustom to living, but even years later she’s still working her butt off.
“So, what did he say when you told him to call me?”
When she takes her eyes off the glass and looks at me, she tilts her head, and Kason’s hand comes to rest on my knee when I press, “I want to know what he said. His exact words.”
“That he didn’t see a point,” she answers warily, and even though I’m still so angry with him, I can’t deny the agony that punctures through my heart when she tells me this. “And with the baby coming, he feels it’s best that your holidays be spent here.”
Kason’s hand leaves my leg when he wraps his arm around me, but I shrug him off with an aggravated, “I’m fine.”
I’m far from fine.
How could he just cut me off like that?
It feels like my heart is caving in on itself and sinking in my chest. I’m so mad at him, and I wish that was all I could feel because being furious at someone is so much easier than being hurt by someone.
“I’m sorry, Ady.”
I don’t even try to speak around the emotional knot lodged in my throat. I know if I try, I’ll lose control of my façade and cry, and that’s the last thing I want to do. So, I sit here, stone-faced as the two of them look at me as if I’m a broken doll. I do what I can to swallow the bitterness of my father’s rejection, but when I start to teeter on the brink of falling apart, I scoot my chair back and abruptly excuse myself before rushing up to my room.
My legs won’t move fast enough, and the first tear falls before I can close my bedroom door behind me. Bracing my hands on to my dresser, I take in a trembling deep breath and attempt to calm myself. But then my eyes catch the stack of photos from the frames that were destroyed in the burglary, and I look into my dad’s eyes as I sit happily on his knee. Memories of how close we once were crumble from all around, and when I cover my hands over my face, the pain I’ve buried erupts out of me in an agonizing sob.
I fall apart.
My body hunches over, and I cry because the one man who was never supposed to break my heart is the man who completely shattered it.
Warmth covers me from all around as my tears free fall, but his strength never wavers as he holds me with everything he has. I cling to Kason as my sadness dampens his shirt. He grips me tighter. Needing his comfort, I let him take care of me, and when my eyelids start to get heavy, he walks us over to the bed.
My head rests over his heart, and I let the steady beats lull me until I find a semblance of peace. We’re wrapped in each other, and it’s here where I’ve come to find my safety. It’s wherever Kason is. He’s where I can be my most vulnerable when I’m so used to keeping everything bottled inside.
His lips fall on top of my head in a still kiss before he finally speaks. “What can I do?”
I lift my shoulders and drop them just as quickly.
“Have you thought about calling him?”
“What’s the point? I shouldn’t have to force my own dad to talk to me.”
“I know.” He drags his thumb across my salt-covered cheek. “I hate seeing you hurting so badly. I wish there were something I could do. Just tell me, and I’ll do it.”
“This is all I want,” I respond as I squeeze my arms around him. “You’re all I want. Only you.”
“You have me. I couldn’t possibly imagine giving myself to anyone else. You’re everything, Adaline.”
I close my eyes, and within the sadness flooding this room, I find pure happiness. He never loosens his hold on me, and when night paints the sky with a peppering of stars, I feel myself dozing. A shadow crosses the room, and I sit up as my tired eyes focus in on my mom. Kason sits up next to me, and after she sets the cake box on top of the covers, she crawls onto the bed with us.
With only the moon casting its glow into the room, I open the lid as we all grab a fork. And without a single word spoken, so much is said as the three of us eat Kason’s birthday cake straight from the box.