Everly

I pulled into the jail parking lot. Once again, the chain-link fence loomed before me. How had this become my new normal? How had this become my life?

Slowly, I got out of the car. What was I going to say to her?

What was I going to say to Cameron?

I glanced at the white paper bag on the passenger seat. One little box. One little box that could do so much.

On the one hand, it would change my world. I’d always wanted to be a mother—more than I wanted anything.

Or so I’d thought.

Did I want it more than I wanted Cameron?

He wouldn’t be thrilled. Not when he was fighting to gain custody of one child. Not when he’d lost a baby so recently.

Not when I had told him it wasn’t possible.

Excess saliva swam in my mouth, and I swallowed it down. Sick. I needed to throw up.

Oh, God. That was a symptom.

Of nerves and dodgy pizza for dinner, I told myself. It was a sign of pregnancy, sure—but other things, too.

As I signed in on the visitor’s log, my mind whirred. I had a plan, but I didn’t know if it would work. I just needed to hope like hell it would.

I sank into the cool metal seat in the far corner of the room, my eyes trained on the door.

Am I pregnant?

She loved drugs. No, that wasn’t quite right. She loved the easy income they could provide her. How could she not have thought she’d get caught?

Arrogance.

It was the only answer.

My plan could work. She’d have to be afraid she’d slip up if she tried dealing again—then she’d be without Piper. We’d win sole custody.

If I am pregnant, I’ll be due in, what? July? August? I’d need to check the dates on my phone.

I’d tell her I was going to hire a PI. That he would follow her everywhere. Or I could try using her arrogance, her greed, against her. “Cameron would pay a nice sum to help with childcare. Surely you want that in your life.”

I could mention I was a counsellor—she didn’t need to know what kind—and offer to help clients of hers. Those who had problems with drugs, who needed them to survive. People’s children—and as a mother, that would surely play on her heartstrings. “What if Piper took drugs?” I’d ask her, trying to make the problem feel more real. “What if she found them in your house?”

I’ll have an ultrasound. This Christmas could be the last I spend without a child. Next year, I might be able to place presents from Santa around the tree, even though he or she will be too little to understand.

Giselle would shake her head, act tough. That will never happen to me. That was what she’d say, but I’d have planted that seed of doubt. I’d have put fear and panic into her mind, fear that she’d get caught, panic that Piper would get hurt, and that sort of worry always made people slip up. It would only be a matter of time before she made a mistake and we could get that paternity test done.

He or she. A boy or girl. Will it look like him? Have those amazing crystal eyes?

I shifted in my seat, the clock in the corner steadily ticking. What was taking so long? Had Giselle refused to see me? I didn’t know if they announced visitor names before they brought the inmates into the room. I’d kind of hoped they didn’t.

I will love him or her so much. It will be my whole world. And Cameron—if he’s not excited now, he will be. But we will discuss it together. As a team.

Because I love him too.

And as much as I want this child, as much as I love the idea of us being a family …

I love him more.

I stifled my gasp. I loved him more.

I didn’t know that that was possible. I thought falling pregnant was the one thing in life I needed more than anything, to prove myself as a woman. To prove myself as a human.

But without a doubt, I loved Cameron. And while the idea probably wouldn’t thrill him at first, we’d work through it together. Whatever it took.

If I’m even pregnant.

I shifted on the seat. What was taking so long?

The door moved, and the woman from the sign-in desk walked over, papers in her hand. She stopped in front of me, her black hair shining blue from the bright lights above. “I’m sorry, Miss Jenkins, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” I stood. “What’s the matter?”

“The paperwork was slow to come through. It hadn’t reached my desk yet.” She glanced at the white sheets in her hand, then looked back up at me, wincing. “Giselle Scott is no longer here.”

What? “She’s … escaped?”

“No.” The woman’s throat bobbed. “She was released early.”

* * *

CAMERON

Searching the house took longer than I’d thought.

Someone had been here since I left with Piper, and they’d made a damn mess.

In the bedroom, clothes were strewn everywhere. The bedside table drawers hung open. Has she been robbed?

The kitchen was no better. Broken glass was scattered over the floor. White powder was dented with footprints, but this fine substance looked more like flour than any kind of drug. I inched around the edge of it, trying to leave any footprints as intact as I could, although they weren’t that clear to begin with.

The pantry door had fallen away from its top hinge, swinging precariously when I nudged it aside. Had there been something on that shelf last time I was here? Instant soup, maybe?

Either way, it was now gone.

You’re here to look for something.

My head was in the game. I walked out of the kitchen, glancing in the bathroom. On the mirror cabinet, words were scrawled in red lipstick. I stepped closer. Piper & Giselle 4eva.

Opening the cabinet, I searched for anything suspicious, but the only thing drug-related was the baby Panadol I’d seen there that first day. Toothpaste, hairspray, lipstick—they were hardly likely to help me in my quest for custody. What had I expected? A list detailing her supply chain?

I shook my head and walked back to the hall.

I bypassed Piper’s room. I’d already searched it pretty thoroughly for baby supplies when I’d last been here, and I doubted I’d have missed some glaringly obvious paper trail that could lead to Giselle’s re-arrest. Besides, she loved Piper—I was sure of that. She wouldn’t want to endanger her by placing anything in her room that could possibly cause her harm.

Instead, I checked Giselle’s bedroom again, finding only clothes and condoms, and finally, the spare room.

Sheets of paper, everywhere. They were stacked high on the desk, strewn over the floor. The single bed was buried under them, and notepads, and other random items—ash trays, a Wii controller, an empty box that once housed a pregnancy test. This was going to take me hours.

I put my fingers to my temples and sighed, pulling out the desk chair and flicking the two pens and the squished chocolate bar to the floor. If I wanted to be back by dark, I’d have to get started.