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His father really was a piece of shit.
Unknowingly, Keene had attracted a crowd. And in that crowd, his father would pick out victims.
What a sick world we lived in.
What a sick world he’d grown up in.
“Anyway, I think this is going to be a slam dunk. But I’ll call you when I’m done and get you up to speed.” He paused. “I love you, Ande. Call me if you need me. I’ll find a way to talk to you.”
And despite the shitty experience he was going through, he was still thinking about me.
The tears I’d managed to keep at bay all morning threatened, but then he made me laugh.
“And God help me, but it’s hot as hell here. I’m sweating like a pig, and people are looking at me like I might pass out at any second.” He groaned. “I thought Texas was hot…”
With that, and a promise to call, we hung up.
I got back to work, looking through her books with a fond smile on my face.
When I got to a leather bound one, I frowned.
To Kill a Mockingbird.
“What the hell, Addison,” I grumbled. “Why do you have this?”
I loved To Kill a Mockingbird. Meanwhile, Addison had despised it.
She’d said it was too sad.
And because of that, I’d teasingly given her a copy for our birthday, and she’d taken it to the Goodwill the next morning.
So that was how it went. Every year, I’d give her a new copy, and every year she’d donate it to someone else.
It’d been our thing.
So, for her to have this…
I cracked it open, and my heart stuttered in my chest.
A journal.
And, because it was written in our own secret code—something that we used to do during class as pre-teens and teens—it’d been obvious why it’d been overlooked by my parents. Then again, they might not have even opened it, based solely on the fact that they were too distraught to remember that Addison had hated To Kill a Mockingbird.
Back then, when they’d find a letter from one of us to the other in our codes, they’d left it alone, knowing that was just our thing.
It’d started out as a way to keep our brothers and parents out of our business.
But it’d ended up being something super fun we did for the hell of it.
Sitting down, I began to read.
And wished that I hadn’t.
CHAPTER 23
If your girl dances when she eats, smile and let her. That’s the attitude she’s been giving you for the last forty-five minutes leaving her body.
-Words of wisdom from Winston to Keene
