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“What consequences?” Mick asks warily.
“He should be arrested.”
“For what? There are no charges.”
“No charges,” she balks. “Malcolm committed crimes, no? Abuse…blackmail.”
“Yes, but—”
“Criminals belong in jail, Micah. Being Sheriff doesn’t make him above the law.”
“I don’t have any evidence to make charges stick, and even if I did, that would only bring a media circus.”
“Bah!Let the press come. We have not done wrong. Only Malcolm bears the shame.”
Understanding the tug-of-war between the kind of justice Mama T wants and the kind of justice Mick needs, I intercede. “You’re right, Mama T. Malcolm should be held accountable. But the criminal system has limitations. It is not going to work in our favor. Malcolm can’t be criminally prosecuted for abuse after all this time, and I imagine blackmail and extortion are hard to prove without concrete evidence. So, as much as I agree that Malcolm should face legal charges, he won’t.”
“Then there’s no justice for Micah,” she says woefully.
“Freedom is justice for me.” Mick holds her gaze before he looks over to Dwayde. “Whether Malcolm was present in my life or not, the secret was always there. Showing up in nightmares. Clouding my judgment. Chasing my thoughts. Dee gave me the push I needed to finally tell you. To finally get free.”
Dwayde shifts in his seat, then looks away.
Mick turns back to Mama T. “Justice for me is telling Malcolm it’s over. It’s getting him out of my life…out of our lives. For good.”
“Alright,mi’jo. You’re entitled to handle it your way. But just because you don’t intend to bring extortion charges against Malcolm doesn’t mean he needs to know that.”
“True,” I heartily agree. “And the statute on abuse for civil action is twenty years after your eighteenth birthday. So, even if you don’t intend to file a lawsuit, he doesn’t need to know that either.”
“Two smart women.” Victor winks at us. “Time to turn the tables. Let Malcolm feel the heat for a change.”
The idea catches momentum. Mick, who’s used to going it alone, allows his family to help—expanding on his plan. No one seems to care that it’s fast approaching midnight. Maria and James whip up a bowl of guacamole and we sit around the table eating chips and dip while we flesh out the details to give Malcolm the comeuppance that Mick needs but is far less than the one Malcolm deserves.
It strikes me that despite the circumstances, laughter and the usual ribbing returns. I’m sure there will be more difficult conversations ahead that Mick will have with Mama T and especially with Victor, but at this moment the only thing that matters is we’re family and we’re there for each other.
I glance up at Mick and smile.
He brackets my face between his large palms and with everyone looking on, kisses me with more passion than is appropriate for a public display.
I blush a little. But my heart is full.
ChapterTwenty-Three
Micah
I didn’t think I’d sleep. I was so wound up from telling the family. I’d spent all those years trying to protect them, trying to protect myself from more guilt. But it had gone so much better than I could have imagined. And I have to admit the plan was much improved, more solid with their input.
When we’d gotten home after two in the morning, I’d only meant to lie with Dee for a while. To hold her before going to the couch. But as soon as my head hit the pillow, I dropped off like a log.
Now awake, I watch her curled up beside me. The woman who had made this all possible. Both her hands are cushioned beneath her cheek, her feet are wedged between my calves. Her breathing is slow and rhythmic. The shadows of the room caress her face and neck.
I lightly trace the bend of one arm from the underside of her elbow to her wrist. Her skin is soft as water. I watch her sleep for another twenty minutes; touching her, not to wake or to arouse, just because.
Before long, she stirs. Her dark lashes flutter up to reveal those sunbeam eyes that strike me right in the heart.
“Morning, beauty.”
“Morning,” she murmurs with a lazy smile and reaches out to slide her hand in my hair.
