“Don’t worry, Sawyer. I’ll get you out. We’ll appeal it. I promise you,” my father’s good friend and my attorney, Donald Barber, promised.
I looked at him and shook my head. “Just…just take care of my parents. They’re going to need you.”
He smiled at me sadly. “I will, pumpkin.”
My only hope, once the appeal was denied, was that I’d make parole.
I looked over at my best friend, who understandably felt horrible, and my boyfriend…whom I hadn’t broken up with because he’d become my rock.
Maybe not so much of a boyfriend anymore, more like a huge part of my support system.
The two of them had become my sole source of strength through this nightmare. I couldn’t have made it through without them.
They’d stayed with me, despite what I’d done.
And I couldn’t thank them enough.
***
Four years later
“Parole denied.”
My eyes closed, and my heart ripped in half.
The last thread holding it in one piece was gone.
Most likely forever.
Chapter 1
If she chooses a day on the back of your bike to a day of shopping, then she’s a keeper.
-T-shirt
Silas
“I’m sorry, Silas. It just happened. I never thought we would get back together. But with Sawyer getting out next week, we started talking a lot again, and we’ve come to the decision that splitting up wasn’t something that either one of us wanted to do,” Reba said softly.
My brows rose.
“Reba, honey. We’ve never really had anything exclusive. I understand that you’d want to get back with your old man. Hell, that’s probably why I never did anything past kiss you and spend time with you. I knew your heart belonged to another man.” I shook my head, but raised my hand to rest softly on the side of her face. “It’s okay, darlin’. It’s time to put you first and not that girl of yours. She’s a grown woman now.”
Reba smiled at me sadly.
“You don’t know Sawyer, though. These past eight years have changed her. She’s not the same bright, happy book nerd anymore. My baby is gone, and she needs me now. She needs her family even more now than she ever did. Plus…when she finds out about Isaac, she’s going to be heartbroken,” she whispered.
“What?” I asked.
I didn’t really want to know, but the fucking brothers had turned me into a fuckin’ gossip whore.
Not to mention that this had been huge for our little community.
Everyone knew what had happened.
Knew Reba, her husband, and their four kids.
Had prayed right along with the rest of the city that what had happened wouldn’t get any worse for the poor woman.
Then Reba had to go on and prove that the loser Sawyer had thought was hers was a big piece of shit.
“Isaac got some woman pregnant,” Reba said, slicking her hair back. “I’ve been telling Sawyer for years that she shouldn’t have expected Isaac to wait.” She shook her hair. “Isaac is getting married to that woman next weekend. The fucking week after Sawyer is set to get out, no less.”
What a fuckin’ chicken shit.
“Well, let me know if you need anything, okay?” I told her softly.
Reba smiled.
“Thank you, Silas. You’re very sweet,” she said, giving me a hug.
I hugged her back and gave her a kiss on the forehead.
“Gotta go, sweetheart. Let me know if you need me.”
Reba nodded and waved as I straddled my bike.
Starting it up with a deafening roar, I rode out of the parking lot and headed straight to the clubhouse.
My mind wandered to that night eight and a half years ago.
I’d been on the volunteer fire department, and had been there in time to see the three kids in the big truck get taken to the hospital by three separate ambulances.
I’d noted almost immediately that the occupants of the other vehicle weren’t going to make it.
They were all dead.
The two in the back hadn’t been wearing seatbelts.
They’d been ejected from the Bronco and laid under sheets to protect their privacy.
The two in the front seat were also dead. The Bronco had caved in like an aluminum coke can crunched under a boot.
The driver’s seat was in the passenger’s space, and blood could be seen everywhere.
Sometimes, being a first responder wasn’t a fun job.
I passed the truck that’d hit them and instantly smelled all the beer.
It was obvious that the Bronco had pulled out in front of the truck.
But the truck, had the occupants not been drunk, might have been able to stop had they been sober.
What a fuckin’ mess.
My phone rang, breaking me out of my thoughts and that horrific night.
“Hello?” I answered.
My helmet had a Bluetooth setup for it.
Then I laughed at the realization of what a sucker I’d become.
My daughter had bought the helmet for me because she hated when I ‘put myself in danger unnecessarily.’
“Hey, dad. Will you watch the kids for me this weekend?” My daughter, Shiloh, asked.
I smiled, knowing I’d do it without question.
I, of course, had to tease her a bit, though.
“All of them?” I asked playfully.
My daughter laughed. “Yeah, all of them. Even Sam’s and Sebastian’s.”