Chapter 220
–Luke–
0
I knew this day would come, the day my son’s murderer, Sara, would make parole. I’d pictured it a million times–what I’d do, what I’d say, who I’d become. Sometimes, in those imaginations, I tell myself it won’t matter. Fifteen years is a long time to keep the past hovering over your head, so whenever she got out, I’d be indifferent about it. But I see now that I’ve been lying to myself. I’m not calm. I’m not indifferent. I want to set something on fire.
d actually stayed in prison the entire fifteen years. But it’s been five years.
In my defense, that theory might have worked if she’d
“What the fuck do you mean by she’s out?” I say, getting out of bed. “Where did Mom get this information?”
I know it’s from my mother. It can’t be from my dad. He’s secretive about everything, especially sensitive things.
Carolina shifts uncomfortably, her arms crossing like she’s trying to shield herself from something. I can feel the room’s air tighten, heavier than it was a second ago. She avoids my eyes as she speaks.
“Do you really need to ask that question?” she says.
“Yes, Caro, I do. Because unless Mom suddenly got a job in law enforcement, I need to know how she’s getting this bullshit.”
Her lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, I think she might not answer. Then she sighs. “It’s not bullshit, Luke. If f they say she’s out, she’s out. She left Eastern Correctional yesterday. She’s in Manhattan, staying with one of her relatives.”
Manhattan. Right here. My chest tightens. The memories I’ve worked so hard to bury claw their way back to the surface. Five years, and now she’s free to live her life while my son rots in the ground.
years. Five fucking
The weight of it is unbearable. The edges of my vision blur as panic starts to creep in, my breath coming in shallow bursts. I run a hand through my hair, gripping it hard, trying to ground myself. It doesn’t work.
“This can’t be real.” The words come out as more of a growl than a statement. I pace to the window, looking out as though her face will magically appear in the sky, as though I could track her down and–what? What the hell would I do if I saw her?
“Luke,” Carolina says. I hate the pity in her voice. It makes me feel weak, and right now, I can’t afford weakness. “We’re here for us. Don’t do anything rash. Let’s hope she breaks parole and lands back where she belongs.”
“Don’t,” I say, spinning to face her. “Don’t tell me what I can or can’t do.”
as
long as you need
Her face falls, but she doesn’t push back. Instead, she exchanges a glance with Sofía, who looks just as uneasy. Isabel clears her throat like she’s about to say something, but I cut her off before she even starts.
“Get out.”
Carolina flinches. “Luke, come on-
“Get out.” My voice is louder now. I point to the door. “All of you. Out. Now.”
Julie’s voice cuts in. “I think it’s better you leave. Give him some space.”
For once, my sisters don’t argue. Carolina opens her mouth like she might protest, but Sofia tugs on her arm, leading her toward the door. Isabel follows, and within moments, the room is silent again.
Julie shuts the door behind them, locks it, then leans against it, watching me carefully. I can’t meet her eyes. I don’t want to see the pity there, too. “I’m not going to bother you, Luke,” she says after a moment, her voice gentle. “But I’m staying.”
I don’t protest. I can’t. My legs feel like they might give out, so I sink onto the edge of the bed, my head in my hands. The silence stretches, thick and suffocating. I don’t know how long I sit there before I feel the bed shift under her weight. She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move closer. She just waits.
Eventually, I lift my head. “You must think I’m acting out of character.”
“We’re not on a movie set, Luke. I think you’re human,” she says.
Her words sting because they feel too kind. I don’t want kindness. I want pain, to punch into a wall until my hands are sore. But I realize I don’t have the strength for that. It would require me getting off this bed, and that’s way too much activity.
“She killed him,” I say: “And now she’s walking free. They said he was alive when the paramedics got there. But the head trauma… It was too much. He was three years old. Three. And she…” I can’t finish the sentence. The words taste like bile.
Julie doesn’t say anything for a long time. Then she says, “I’m so sorry, Luke. It’s probably not what you want to hear, I know. She’ll get what she ‘deserves.”
12
11:26 AM
Chapter 220
I look at her, and for a moment, I want to believe she means it. That she understands. But how could she? How could anyone?
The air in the room feels heavy. Julie and I are still sitting on the edge of the bed, close enough that her perfume–something subtle, floral, and maddeningly familiar–fills my senses. My fingers drum against my thigh, a sharp contrast to her unnerving stillness. She’s looking at me, her expression unreadable, and I don’t know if I want her to say something or keep her silence.
“This can’t end like this,” I say. “She can’t just… walk away.”
Julie tilts her head, studying me. “I can’t tell you what to do, Luke. You wouldn’t listen anyway. But if you ask me, I think you should call your lawyer.”
“Lawyers. Right. Like they’ve ever really solved anything.”
“Well, they got her convicted in the first place. That counts for something.”
“Barely.” I rub my temples, the pounding in my head growing more intense by the second. “I don’t even remember the attorney from back then. Jerome Bush, my company’s lawyer, recommended him. He handled the case, not me.”
“Then call Jerome.”
I hesitate. The idea of calling my company’s lawyer about this feels like ripping open an old wound. But she’s right. If anyone would have answers, it’s him. I sigh and reach for my phone on the nightstand, but Julie moves at the same time, her hand brushing mine.
Bh
The contact is electric, unexpected. For a moment, we both freeze, our eyes locking. Her hand lingers, warm against mine, and I feel something shift in the air between us. Her lips part slightly, and I can’t help but notice how full her bottom lip is, how soft it looks. There’s something in her gaze, something I’m not sure I want to name.
She breaks the tension, pulling back and handing me the phone. “Here,” she whispers.
I take the phone, my fingers brushing hers again, and this time I don’t look away. Her eyes stay on mine, steady and unflinching, and I can’t stop myself from noticing everything–the way her hair falls just so around her face, the way her chest rises and falls in a rhythm I’m now hyper–aware of. God, she’s beautiful. I might have said this a thousand times, but it never gets old. Something swells inside me, a need that feels out of place, almost obscene given the circumstances. I want to feel guilty, but my brain isn’t functioning on logic right now.
I dial Jerome’s number with my eyes still fixed on Julie’s. For a moment, I forget why I’m calling, forget everything except the maddening pull between us. It’s not just lust. It’s…
I don’t get the chance to think about it because Jerome answers on the third ring. “Luke. What’s going on?”
