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“A few days before graduation, there was a murder in the city. It was a woman known by the police for being a…street worker. Her throat was slit in a boarding house downtown, and…”
“Don’t tell me,” Talia snarled. “The bastards pinned it on Fleet.”
“They tried.” Mrs. Eggers voice shook. “They’d planted some evidence that led to our son, and he was subsequently arrested. He was given a preliminary hearing, and due to the severity of the crime, he was held without bail in a nearby juvenile facility. It took far too long for a good lawyer to clear Fleet’s name, but by that time the damage had been done. Fleet had missed his graduation. Bitsy’s parents forbid her to ever see Fleet again, and his full scholarship to Princeton was revoked. It…hardened Fleet. He became so…withdrawn.” There was a huge sigh from Mrs. Eggers.
Talia didn’t trust herself to speak. So called righteous people could be such assholes.
“When he finally started looking at UMO, we thought maybe he’d gotten past the worst of his anger. We were hopeful, you know? But when he eventually enrolled, then refused to come home even for holidays, we knew he hadn’t gotten over anything. He’d simply distanced himself from it.” Another sigh. “We’ve missed him so much over the past sixteen years, not having him close. We visit him occasionally, and sometimes we meet in the middle at some resort, but it’s not the same as having him home with us, sitting in our own living room.”
Talia made up her mind, instantly. “You need to get on a plane and come here today,” she told them firmly. “Fleet will be staying with me during his recovery… At least I’m pretty sure he will. I haven’t exactly told him yet, but I’m determined to win any argument he puts forth.”
That got a laugh from both Fleet’s parents.
“You can stay at his place, and once he’s on the mend and the surgeon clears him, I promise, we’ll both come down to Huntsville and confront his demons.”
Silence met her offer.
Shit. Had she overstepped?
Talia recanted. “That is unless you don’t want me to—”
“No! We do. We really do.” She could hear the tears in Mrs. Eggers’ voice, and knew they had been the reason for the silence. Mr. Eggers, when he chimed in, sounded choked up, too.
“Talia, we’ll take you up on both of those things,” he answered gruffly. “And… Thank you.”
* * *
Hadshe mentioned to his parents that she was white?No.But they might have figured it out, and it sounded like they’d been fine with that Bitsy chick, so they probably wouldn’t care.She’d used her brains to figure out that Bitsy had most definitely been white, and that Fleet had been targeted simply for his blackness.Damn, she hated people who used their positions of power to intimidate.
Now she had to find a way to overcome Fleet’s reticence toward building their relationship due to his past insecurities; insecurities that had very real roots.
She’d been doing a pretty good job of swaying him before his abduction, but now, of course, he’d be doubling down, figuring he’d been targeted once again for daring to date a white woman.
Fuck that.
Love was love, and hate was hate.
This time, she’d make sure love would win.
Andyeah. She said love.
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
Fleet woke up and the first thing he saw was the sun streaking in through his hospital room window. He’d quite obviously slept through the balance of a day, then an entire night.
The second thing he saw? His parents sat across the room; his father on his phone, and his mother keeping her hands busy crocheting some doo-dad or another.
“Hey,” he croaked out, his voice still messed up from lack of use and from the breathing tube they’d had down his throat.
“Fleet!” his mother cried, leaping to her feet and rushing toward him beaming and fluttering her hands. Her yarn dropped on the floor, forgotten. Clearly, as she reached his bedside, she didn’t know what part of him was safe to touch, and Fleet appreciated that. There were a lot of spots afflicted during his unconscious sojourn, that hurt.
Fleet’s father was a little more controlled, but damned if his old man didn’t look to be on the verge of tears.
“Son.” Jim Eggers walked close and put a hand gently on the sheets resting over Fleet’s knee.
“Hi Mom, Pops. You didn’t have to come,” Fleet coughed roughly. “I’m fine.”
His mother picked up a water glass from his bedside table and filled it, adding a straw before she held it out to Fleet. He took a big, long sip and the liquid felt damned good on his parched throat.
