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I was many things but a pervert wasn’t one of them, so I’d stopped looking and had focused on catching up with my messages.
I’d known she was there, though.
How could I not?
Her eyes rounded, and I knew she was surprised at what I was admitting to by asking her that. “Sure.”
“Because I’d gotten out of prison about two hours earlier, Mary Catherine. Sin was my ‘welcome home’ party, and because we were in New York, he asked if we could stop at your mother’s place.
“No one has to know we didn’t fuck. Maybe there’s another kid from school that you’d prefer to be with—” Just saying that made my voice lower into a growl. “We can file for a divorce if that’s what makes you safer. But before you let these dirty hands touch you, think about what you’re getting yourself into.”
12
MARYCAT
I lethim storm off for two reasons.
One, because hobbling after himwouldn’tbe a power move.
Two, because I sensed him being a felon was a bigger deal to him than it was to me.
I wasn’t sure if he wanted me to be outraged or disgusted by his admission like he clearly was. There was a lot to unpack there, and none of it had anything to do with what he’d actually confessed to.
Father was a felon.That was partly why Mother had cheated so often and why he wasn’t high in the ranks: because he kept getting caught.
My uncle and a few of my cousins were just as bad at staying under the cops’ radar.
Jail was the family’s home away from home—a real vacation spot.
He had to know that.
I was a Five Pointer’s brat, for God’s sake. So the melodramatic confession confused me.
A lot.
“Paul! Oh, my god! NO!”
I jerked at the scream that came from next door. It was so loud thanks to the paper-thin walls, which made it seem as if the woman were here in the bathroom with me.
Adrenaline gave me wings and had me hauling my bag of bones out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, where I saw that Digger, the guy who was apparently a big, bad felon and whose hands were too filthy to touch me, no longer occupied the room.
Our door was wide open, and I heard him slamming on our neighbor’s, yelling, “Get the fuck off her!”
Was I surprised to find him using his shoulder to break down the door when I made it outside?
Nope.
When he busted in, I rushed after him, about to help the poor woman while Digger dealt with whomever the hell this Paul was, but when I charged toward the room, my frozen feet colliding with the concrete floor, and I jerked to a halt in the doorway at the sight ofwhoPaul was.
A teenage boy.
Choking on something while his mother tried and failed to pull off the Heimlich maneuver.
I reared back at the sight and then watched as Digger, that oh, so big and oh, so bad felon, took control of the situation.
A second later, a Flamin’ Hot Cheeto soared out of his mouth and landed, grossly enough, beside my bare foot.
I flexed my toes at the sight, and seeing that I wasn’t needed, that Digger had everything under control, I slipped away and back to our room.
