Fucking disgusting, the way the two of them were always sneaking off together. Thinking they were hiding it from me. I don’t know how their parents didn’t see it, the goddamn googly eyes they had for each other.
Silas deserved to be punished for that if nothing else. How could he let his daughter get dicked down like that underneath his ownroof?And by her stepbrother?
I mean, and yeah, there was the added bonus that planting the weed and getting Silas to take the fall got me in good with the Lonestar Devils. They’ve been pissed about him not letting them use that sex dungeon of his to launder their money, and they always make good on their threats when you don’t do what they say.
I’ll be a patched-in member in no time.
Yeah, it was a risk, planting the shit inHarper’slocker. What if Silas let her take the fall instead of stepping up?
But I had a feeling that sentimental bastard would do theright thing. Ever since I got here, he’s been pulling me aside to have little chats. About what it means to be aman. Like he thought he was some sort of fucking mentor or Uncle Iroh fromAirbendertrying to lead me away from a bad path. Stupid motherfucker.
I know my path.
It’s with Harper.
We’reendgame.
Nothing’s gonna distract me from that.
Even if, worst case scenario, I was wrong about Silas taking the fall for the pot and Harper had to do a littletime, eh, no big deal. If she had been sent downstate for a year or two, I’d just keep waiting for her like I was already doing. Meanwhile, I could start earning my keep as a grunt with the MC.
But now look, everything’s worked out smooth as butter.
Smoother, even.
I thought I’d have to find some other clever opportunity to finish severing Harper’s connection from the rat bastard.
But then Helen went and dropped dead, conveniently getting Caleb out of the house so I could steal the girl.
It was quick thinking to grab his phone while he was watching those paramedics pump away at his moms on the grass. I wrote Harper that last quick text, then deleted and blocked her number. Last thing was to change the contacts in his phone—switching her number for the number of a burner phone I got recently and adding her name to it—so whenever he tries to call or text her, it comes to my burner. Who really pays attention to anyone’s actualnumberthese days anyway? We just see the name.
So finally, I get my reward.
No more waiting.
I squeeze Harper in my arms as her sobbing subsides to little hiccups. “Shhhhh. I’ve got you.” I kiss her forehead. “It’s just you and me against the world.”
FORTY-ONE
CALEB
There areno lights on in the house.
That’s the first thing that registers when I pull into the driveway. No porch light. No glow from the kitchen window where Mom always leaves the light burning when someone’s out late.
Just darkness.
My hands are shaking on the steering wheel. Have been shaking since the hospital. Since the doctor stopped doing compressions and looked at me with those practiced, sympathetic eyes that saidI’m sorrybefore his mouth even formed the words.
Time of death: 4:47 PM.
Like Mom was just a statistic. A case file. Another name to add to whatever cancer survival database they keep. She didn’t make it to year six of remission after all.
He didn’t care that she was the woman who packedmy lunches with little notes that saidI’m proud of you. The person who believed I could do anything. Be anything.
Even when, really, I was just the bastard son of a man who didn’t want me.
I check my phone for the forty-seventh time since leaving the hospital. Still no response from Harper. I’ve called twice. Texted three times.