I poked around online as I worked, stopping between shelves and taking longer breaks between carts. At first all I could find was the same story the papers printed—that Kash got off on some unspecified technicality and had gotten away with murder. Court transcripts were locked—they said that the case was now considered an open investigation, and everything related to it was sealed tight.
Several hours later, after a frustratingly tiny bit of information, I locked up the library and texted Lizzie.
How did you know about the video?
I glared at my phone as I walked, willing her to answer me.
I was at the appeals, she replied. I was gonna use the case for my dissertation but then we all had to sign NDAs. Oops!
“Oops,” I muttered angrily. “She could have ‘oopsed’ a long time ago.”
Even thinking that made me feel a little guilty. Lizzie could have gotten in a lot of trouble for telling me that, assuming she really had signed an NDA. She must have, though. There was a reason she’d gotten into journalism—she never could keep her mouth shut. The NDA must have been very strongly worded to have kept her from spreading this news all over town the second she heard it.
Thank you. My lips are sealed, I promised.
If you wanna make me happy, seal your lips against Kash’s. Nobody that hot should be left unkissed, especially after a wrongful conviction!
Back off, I answered with a smile. I’m still mad at him.
Her only response was a row of kissy-face emoji. I rolled my eyes and stuck my phone in my pocket. I wasn’t convinced. And even if I was convinced, I wasn’t ready to talk to him. And even if I was, I’d already told him not to talk to me. And even if he ignored that, I wouldn’t know what to say.
I was so busy making excuses that I didn’t remember to take the long way around until it was too late. Against my better judgment, my eyes wandered to the motel as I passed—and immediately locked with Kash’s. He was standing in a second-story window and it looked like he was measuring it. His eyes burned into mine and time stood still. I felt my heart do at least five somersaults before thrashing against my chest, as though trying to get to Kash.
A blaring horn snatched my attention back to where I was. “Are you crossing or not?!”
“Shit,” I muttered and frowned, realizing I’d accidentally stepped into the street. “Sorry! Sorry.”
I backed up to the sidewalk and turned back toward home, walking as fast as I could without running. I didn’t look back in Kash’s direction, despite how much I really wanted to.
My defenses were down and I knew it.
Now, Kash knew it, too.
Chapter 5
The best part about working at the library was that I always had something new to read. On this day, I’d chosen a fantasy adventure book about dragons which, at first glance, didn’t seem to have any romantic overtones whatsoever. I was hoping for a land far away from here, a mystery, maybe some blood, anything that would carry my mind off into a faraway land. I brought the book to bed after delivering Dad’s nightly dozen of beer. The game was on and I’d barely gotten comfortable before he started shouting at the TV.
“Get it in there! Get it in there! What are you doing?! Oh, come on!”
My temple throbbed and I tried to tune him out. The stiff breeze blew ice cold over the waves of G’alut--
“Pass it, pass it! Damn it, who let this guy on the field?”
I groaned and grabbed my headphones. A little music, maybe some movie scores, and I could block him out and focus. There, that was better.
The stiff breeze blew ice cold over the waves of G’alut. Prince T’ryll watched the horizon with a—
“Woo! Did you see that? Yeah! Finally got some players out here!”
I buried my face in my pillow and swore. This was never going to work. Tension twisted my body and made my small room feel even more claustrophobic than it usually did. Giving up on my routine, I put the book aside and shoved my feet into my sneakers. I shook my head at it.
“Don’t even need a bookmark, do we? Sorry, Ivy Lee Smith. I’m sure it’s great.” I wasn’t sure—her being a new author to me and all—but I felt irrationally guilty for cracking open a book and not getting through the first chapter at least.
The swamp cooler rattled as I walked under it. It was leaking onto its supports again—I was sure that one of these days I’d meet my end under its bulk when it finally rotted the roof through. I eyed it warily and took a cartoonishly big step out of its path. God, I needed to get out of here. Out of this house. Out of this town. Out of this life.
Dad was up out of his chair, sloshing beer around while he gesticulated. The carpet was soaked with the stuff. It would have taken a thousand shampoos to get the smell out. Maybe not even then. The whole trailer needed to be thrown away, honestly. Burnt to the ground and shoveled beneath the earth. I thought about it on my darker days—but Mom never left the house anymore, and I wasn’t willing to kill her to get out of here.
I entered the room to find her sitting at the kitchen table, flipping through bills with a blank face. I don’t know why she never went paperless. Maybe there was something soothing about the routine, paper bills, paper balance book. She jotted a figure down and flipped to the next page, expression unchanged. I always wondered what went on in her head when she was doing that. She had never been the most expressive person in the world and after Hunter died, it
