Confess

I can’t count the number of times my father has promised me he was going to get help. I think he waited a little too long.

My father closes his eyes when Trey begins making his way to the rear of the vehicle. He sets one, two, three bottles of pills on the car. He proceeds to open each one to inspect the contents.

“Looks like Oxy,” Trey says, rolling a pill between his thumb and forefinger. He looks at me and then at my father. “Either of you have a prescription for these?”

I look at my father, hoping beyond all hope that he does, in fact, have a prescription. I know it’s wishful thinking, though.

Trey smiles. The bastard smiles like he just hit gold. He leans his elbows on the car and begins putting the pills back into their bottles, one by one. “You know,” he says, looking at neither of us, but speaking to us both, “Oxy is considered a penalty group one drug when obtained illegally.” He looks up at me. “Now, I know you aren’t a lawyer like your father here, so let me explain it to you in laymen’s terms.” He stands up straight and puts the caps back on the bottles. “In the state of Texas, being arrested for a penalty group one is an automatic state-jail felony.”

I close my eyes and exhale. This is the last thing my father needs. If he loses his career on top of everything else he’s lost, there’s no way he would survive.

“I suggest, before either of you speak again, that you take into consideration what would happen if a defense attorney were to be charged with a felony. I’m almost certain that would result in the loss of his license to practice law.”

Trey walks around the vehicle and steps between my father and me. He eyes my father up and down. “Think about that for a second. A lawyer, whose entire career consists of defending criminals, loses his career and becomes the criminal. Irony at its best.” Trey then turns and faces me full on. “Did you work tonight, Gentry?”

I tilt my head, confused by his line of questioning.

“You own that studio, right? Wasn’t tonight one of the nights you were open?”

I hate that he knows about my studio. I hate it even more that he’s asking about it.

I nod. “Yeah. First Thursday of every month.”

He takes a step closer. “I thought so,” he says. He rolls the three bottles of pills between his hands. “I saw you leaving the studio with someone earlier tonight. A girl?”

Was he following me? Why would he be following me? And why would he be asking about Auburn?

My throat runs dry.

I can’t believe I haven’t put two and two together until this moment. Of course Auburn would have a connection to Trey. His family is probably the reason she’s back in Texas.

“Yeah,” I say, finding a way to downplay it. “She worked for me tonight, so I walked her home.”

His eyes narrow at my response and he nods. “Yeah,” he says dryly. “I don’t particularly like her working for someone like you.”

I know he’s a cop, but right now all I see is an asshole. The muscles in my arms clench and his eyes immediately fall to the fists at my sides. “What do you mean someone like me?”

His eyes meet mine again with a laugh. “Well, you and I don’t really have the best history, do we? You attacked me the first time we met. As soon as I pulled you over tonight, you admitted to driving under the influence. And now . . .” He looks down at the pills in his hands. “Now I find these in the vehicle you’re driving.”

My father steps forward. “Those are—”

“Stop!” I yell at my father, cutting him off. I know he’s about to claim them, but he isn’t sober enough to realize what that could do to his career.

Trey laughs again, and I’m honestly sick of hearing that noise. “Anyway,” he says, “if she needs an escort home, she has me for that.”

He slams the pills down on the hood. “So, which one of you belongs to these?”

My father looks at me. I can see the struggle in his eyes because he doesn’t know what to say. I don’t give him the chance.

“They’re mine.”

I close my eyes and I think about Auburn, because this moment and Trey’s indirect threat to stay away from her is about to take away whatever chance we might have had.

Fuck me.

My cheek meets the cold metal of the hood.

“You have the right to remain silent . . .”

My hands are pulled behind me, and the cuffs are snapped into place.

Part Two

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Auburn

It’s been twenty-eight days since Owen was sentenced to ninety days in jail. A lot can happen in twenty-eight days.

I tuck the blanket tighter around his body and lean in to kiss AJ on the forehead. “I’ll see you after school tomorrow, okay?”

AJ smiles at me, and like every time he does, my heart melts. He looks just like Adam. Other than having a red tint to his mostly brown hair, everything about him is Adam, right down to his mannerisms. “Are you coming over to eat with us?”

I nod and give him another hug. Saying good-bye to him, knowing he’s not sleeping in a bed in my home, is the hardest part for me. I should be tucking him into bed in a home we share together.

However, whatever Trey said to Lydia worked, because I’ve been coming over more nights during the week and she hasn’t said a single negative thing to me.

“Ready?” Trey says from behind me.

“Good night, AJ. I’ll love you forever.”

He smiles. “Good night, Mom. I’ll love you forever.”

I flip the light switch off as I exit the room and pull the door shut. Trey reaches for my hand and slides his fingers through mine as we walk toward the living room. I look down at our hands, linked together, and feel nothing but guilt. I’ve tried for the past few weeks to reciprocate the feelings he has for me, but so far it hasn’t worked out like I’d hoped.

We make our way through the living room, and Lydia is seated on the sofa. Her eyes immediately fall to our hands. She smiles briefly, and I’m not sure what that smile means. Trey said she didn’t really have a reaction when he told her he was taking me on our first official date last week, but I know she has to have an opinion about it. I’d almost think she would be happy, because having me linked to her through Trey in a positive way means there’s less of a threat of me taking my son and moving back to Portland.

“Do you work tonight?” she asks Trey.

He nods as he releases my hand and reaches for the key that unlocks the entryway closet. “I’m on night shift for the next three weeks,” he says. He inserts the key into the door and retrieves his gun from the case.