Well, not entirely alone.
Brock’s jaw clenched. “Let’s go, Firefly. I’m driving.”
I laid a hand on his chest. “You don’t have to do this.”
His sturdy fingers covered mine, taking my hand into his. “Where you go, I go. Besides, we both could use a day away from here.”
I stared out the window, my knee bouncing as I chewed on the end of my nails. My mind conjured up an image of Angie behind bars, and once it was there, the picture became stamped behind my eyes. Open or closed, I couldn’t rid myself of the defeat I saw in her expression. I imagined she was suffering in her cell. No morning mimosas. No luxury robes. No bubble baths. Life behind bars was about to get real.
“She’ll see a judge this morning,” Brock said, breaking the silence and reading my thoughts. He was good at knowing how my mind worked, eerily so. “They’ll set bail. She’ll be out this afternoon.”
Hearing him reiterate what I had guessed would happen took some of the edge off. “Assuming Steven pays her bail,” I groused.
“He will,” Brock said confidently. “The Pattersons love press. Good or bad, the bastard will somehow spin this to his advantage.”
I snorted. “I don’t know how anyone could turn this situation into something positive.”
Brock drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “You’d be surprised what people can come up with. He’ll find a way to clear her name or get a seriously reduced sentence. He can’t have his wife in jail. It’s not good for his image.”
True.
I took a visible breath, watching the world speed by. “I don’t even know why I give a fuck.”
“Because you’re human,” he rationalized. “And despite everything, she was your mother, good or bad, for seventeen years. We can’t help but want them to love us.”
I had the window cracked, needing the fresh air, and despite it being chilly today, it wasn’t the breeze that had me shivering.
Brock noticed. He tended to always see the little details and turned the heat up a notch, but the cold inside of me went so deep, no amount of heat could thaw it. I could think of only one source strong enough, and he sat beside me.
Brock moved one hand from the wheel and reached for mine, wrapping our fingers together.
Had my dad really turned in Angie? I had such a hard time believing it. Easton wasn’t vindictive, but he did have a strong sense of right and wrong.
I had to talk to him.
I was out of the car the moment it stopped in front of the shop. Brock scrambled to turn off the engine and jump out after me, mumbling a low curse under his breath. I burst into the shop, not pausing at the desk, and went straight to the office, which was empty. Backtracking, I went to the glass door behind the counter and shoved it open, Brock right behind me. The zipping and whizzing of an impact driver echoed through the garage. It was loud enough that Easton didn’t hear me coming, not until there was a break in the noise and I said, “Why did you do it?” The words exploded out of me.
Easton rolled out from under the car and blinked, looking confused at seeing me. “Josie? What are you doing here?” He glanced at Brock, finally taking notice that I hadn’t come alone. “Shouldn’t you both be at school?”
“Did you see the news this morning? Angie has been arrested.”
Easton rubbed at the back of his neck, smearing some sort of dark, oily stain across his skin. “I know. I thought I would have time to tell you before it hit the news.”
“How could you?” I heaved, feeling betrayed.
Dusting off his hands on his already stained pants, he replied with serious eyes. “I had no choice. What she did was wrong. It impacted too many lives to go unpunished.”
I finally noticed a few of the other guys stood around watching and listening to our conversation. But really, how could they not? I was practically yelling through the garage, and Brock just stayed by my side, hands shoved into his pockets, letting me rant. “I thought you still loved her.” It wasn’t a good excuse, and I knew I was grasping at straws. A part of me knew the truth had to come out, I just wished I’d had more time before my world imploded… again.
“I do care about her,” he assured. “This wasn’t a decision I made lightly.”
I snorted. “I didn’t want this. I’m sick of people talking and whispering about me. I’m sick of them pitying me or judging my life.” I unloaded it all. “I haven’t had a chance to catch my breath, and now this. I’m drowning.”
“It was never my intention to hurt you, Josie.” He sounded sincere and remorseful.
“I know that,” I said, my voice softening. Staying angry at Easton wasn’t a simple task.
He glanced a Brock for a moment, who continued to stand protectively at my side. He was there if I needed him, and the message was clear to Easton. “I should have thought about you and your feelings in all of this before I made the rash decision to go to the police. You’re right. I should have told you, and I’m sorry if I hurt you. I can’t imagine how hard and confusing this all must be for you.”