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Trinity’s gaze slides away. “Maybe it has more to do with Emily being outside of the club?” She lifts her shoulders in an apologetic shrug.

“I don’t understand why that matters.”

“It shouldn’t,” she says.

I sense there’s more to it than that but I’m also putting Trin in an awkward position. She’s hardcore loyal to the club. If I push, she’ll spill all of Swan’s secrets. But the bond the women share is important to the overall well-being of the club. Satisfying my curiosity isn’t a good enough reason to mess with their sisterhood. Patched or not, Swan’s part of their group.

“Just tell me one thing—is it going to be an issue when I patch Emily?”

“When, huh?” She arches a brow. “Honestly, I think if Charlotte, Swan, Heidi, Serena, and I all get along, it should be fine.”

There’s a math problem I’d rather not dwell on for too long.

“All the ol’ ladies like Emily,” Trinity continues. “She won’t have a problem fitting in. She and Serena were friends before the club. Kinda like Hope and Lilly.”

That’s true.

“I mean, you already know at one time, a few of us might’ve hoped you and Swan were going to…whatever…but you’re right, it’s been a while.” Her lips tilt up. “We understand that bird flew the nest.”

I snort a humorless laugh. This conversation was a mistake, but I thank her anyway.

“Any time.” She glances up at me. “So, things are good with Emily? Back to normal?”

“I’m not sure what ‘normal’ really looks like. But yeah, things are better.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” She gives me a genuine smile that eases some of my concerns.

Not all of them, though.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Emily

Today’s the day I confront the man who murdered my parents.

Not wanting to alert Libby to anything out of the ordinary happening, Dex dropped her off at school for me again. While I’m waiting for him to return, I sift through my closet, searching for something to wear.

New York State has a shockingly long and specific list of prohibited clothes for visiting an inmate. A special warning for any bras that might set off the metal detectors was also included. Nothing see-through. No problem there. No plunging necklines. What does New York consider plunging? No shorts. No bathing suits. Do people really try to visit a prison in their bathing suit? I don’t want to do anything that makes this experience more unpleasant than necessary, so I study the instructions carefully.

I end up in a pair of slate-blue wide-leg yoga pants—no pockets and not too tight—full coverage boy short undies, a completely smooth wireless bra, and a long-sleeved black tunic. I grab a pair of slip-on sneakers and quickly check to make sure they don’t have any metal pieces.

I don’t care what I look like today. I took a vacation day and it’s not like I’ll have the energy or desire to go anywhere after the visit.

“I’m back!” Dex shouts. “Where’s my firecracker?”

My chest flutters with love the way it always does when he calls me that. “Up here!”

I carry my sneakers with me and meet him at the bottom of the stairs. “How was drop-off?”

“Fine.” He leans down and kisses my forehead. “Libby says she prefers the legroom available in my vehicle over yours.”

I snort and reach down to squeeze his thigh. “Did you tell her to know her audience?”

His mouth tilts into an affectionate smile. “Nah, it was cute.”

“Thank you for doing that. I really appreciate it.”

“Not a problem.” He runs his gaze over me. “Ready?”

“Not really.”

“Em.” His tone turns serious. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I know.” I slip into my sneakers while holding onto his arm for support. “But I’m committed now.”

Two hours later, I’m questioning my commitment to this visit. Nerves nibble at me as I sit at a table bolted to the floor at the Ashport Correctional Facility’s visitor’s room. Getting in hadn’t been as difficult as I anticipated. Then again, I’m not a family member of an inmate. The guards weren’t worried about me sneaking in prohibited items. In fact, because I contacted them ahead of time and explained the situation, the meeting has been arranged in a different area than family visits.

What’s taking so long?

My phone’s in the truck with Dex, so I can’t even let him know that I’m okay.

I rest my arms on the table and lace my fingers together. My skin sticks to the cool metal surface and I pull my hands away. Gross. The table’s probably loaded with germs.

I rest my hands in my lap and stare straight ahead, trying to push away thoughts of bringing some awful prison disease home to Libby.

Anything to take my mind off the impending doom.

The door opens and I jump. My heart thuds. My stomach clenches. Zach shuffles into the room with a guard behind him.

We stare at each other, then Zach quickly looks away.

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