Canon (Klein Brothers 2)
It was a dingy studio apartment that hadn’t been decorated or cleaned since the 70s, but that was fine because it meant I could finish my course and move after I graduated without worrying about giving notice. It was disgusting, but after three days of cleaning, me and my sisters got it smelling half-decent, and it was tolerable for a short-term situation.
Months later, when John Dickens was sentenced to twelve years for his crimes with no ability to apply for early parole, I didn’t cheer with the rest of the court. I was happy he’d do time, obviously, but I also knew his sentence was nowhere near what mine was.
He only had to suffer for twelve years. I’d be doing it for the rest of my life.
Ignoring the accusing eyes and glares from my former roommates, I walked out of the building with my dad’s arm around me, keeping me close to his side as my sisters all glared back at the women I’d once thought were my best friends.
Meeting us on the steps of the courthouse, Ned Dahl smiled sadly at me. “I’m sorry it was only twelve years, Jacinda, but I’m relieved he won’t be able to get parole.”
“I’m fucking furious he didn’t get the chair,” Dad growled, looking over at where the press were all standing, like vultures waiting for a carcass to feast on. It was only because of the men Ned had brought with him, who were holding them back, that they hadn’t swamped us.
Smiling stiffly at Ned, I shrugged. “Shit happens. At least he can’t come near me for twelve years.”
Tilting his head, he frowned at my comment. “One of the stipulations of his sentence is that he can’t come near you at all, or he’ll be remanded back into custody.”
“Like that’d stop him,” Mom snorted, the sound far from being amused, though.
Even though we’d spent a lot of time around Ned and had even formed a friendship with him, I still stiffened when he took a step closer to me.
Seeing it, he stopped and then slowly reached out, letting me know he was going to touch my arm and giving me the option of taking a step away from him to prevent it. I didn’t move away. I trusted him, and he’d been there for my parents during a time that’d almost broken them into the same pieces I was still in.
“I think you need to move away from here. Go somewhere that’s familiar, and that makes you feel safe. A place where you know people and call home,” he advised. “Sometimes, when we’re hurting inside, familiarity and security make it easier to heal. I’m not saying it’ll fix everything but taking away how vulnerable you feel now will go a long way to helping you find happiness.”
He was right. I’d been thinking about it, and my parents had been begging me to do it, but I hadn’t wanted to admit defeat and run home with my tail between my legs. The thing was, I’d graduated, so I had nothing holding me back.
Dad had bought Mom a huge house in a place called Palmerstown after the crime in the area of Belton they’d lived in had increased to the point she didn’t feel safe when he was away fishing. That wasn’t his hobby, either. He was a tuna fisherman, so he regularly went out to sea with his team to support them.
“We want her to come home with us to Palmerstown. It’s far enough away from here that she won’t have the constant visual reminders of what happened. The people are great, it’s safe, it’s beautiful, and there’s always support when you least expect it,” Dad told him. “If there was ever a place that could be considered a safe haven, it’d be there or the town next to it, Piersville.”
Ned nodded slowly. “Sounds like a place to be proud of. Maybe one day I’ll take a visit out there to see you and look around.”
“I’m going to do it,” I whispered, the words slipping out before I even knew it was happening. “I’m going to go with you guys.”
Ned smiled at me. “That’s the best news I’ve had since Aidan called me and said he’d knocked that asshole out when he’d tried running. You make sure you stay in touch, you hear?”
It felt like my heart was about to jump out of my chest as I raised my arms to hug him, but I wanted to show him how grateful I was for his and Aidan’s help. Without them, I didn’t know where I’d be right now.
“Thank you for everything. I hope I’ll see you again one day and be able to put into words what you’ve done for me.”
He was careful not to squeeze me or to make me feel trapped as he hugged me back, knowing instinctively that I couldn’t take the feeling of being restrained, even slightly. But when he leaned back to look at me, his words healed one of the fractured pieces of my emotions inside of me with their beauty.