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My hand shook as I picked up the offensive letter and slid my finger under the envelope flap, tugging against the seam until it ripped. I took another deep breath and withdrew the white piece of paper, unfolding it a moment later. There wasn’t much to it, and I skimmed it before rereading it, my heart beating furiously against my chest.
“She has a hearing for early release, and I’m invited to speak on her behalf.” A buzzing noise filled my ears. I dropped the letter and backed away from it. “She has two more years. Why would they release her early?” My shrill voice cut through the odd buzzing, and I jerked my gaze to Brooke.
Her lips moved, but I couldn’t hear her. I grabbed onto her arms, and she did to mine. Seconds passed where I couldn’t catch my breath. Then the buzzing receded, and Brooke’s voice broke through. Tremors shook my body, and she pried her arms from my too-tight grip, sat on the bed, and pulled me into her embrace, rocking me back and forth.
Eventually, the shock ebbed, but I didn’t move away. I couldn’t live without her whispered mantra that everything would be okay or the comfort she offered me. Not yet. I didn’t care that I was eighteen or that my reaction seemed childish. That letter shook my world in the worst way.
“Why now?”
“When your mom was sentenced to ten years, the judge said she had to serve eighty percent of it before being eligible for parole. She’s at that milestone.”
I closed my eyes, wishing it away. It was childish. I knew that.
“I talked to our lawyer.” Brooke ran a hand down my hair. “And he said that this is her first hearing. She’ll get one every six months until she’s either granted parole or has served all ten years.”
“It’s not long enough.” Pure hatred for that woman filled me. “It’ll never be long enough.”
Brooke said nothing, just continued to hold me until I was ready to let go.
“Do you want to come home? You don’t have to start this semester. You can defer until next year.”
That wouldn’t solve anything. “No. But thank you.”
“Oh, Winter. You can always come home.”
“I know.” And I did.
The Childress family had made that abundantly clear throughout my years with them. When I’d acted out and shoved them away that first year, testing them to do their worst, they never did. Even Jaxon stayed by my side. They might not be blood, but what they’d given me was better. I couldn’t let them down. I was made of much stronger stuff. I had to be to survive what I had.
“Do you want to go shopping today? Or maybe walk around the art museum then get lunch?”
I pulled back, and her arms fell away. “Thank you. As much as I want to ditch and hang out with you, I need to get to class.”
She cupped the side of my face. “Are you okay? I hate leaving you like this.”
“I will be. Promise.”
She gave me a slight nod. “If you change your mind, I can be in the car and pick you up in thirty minutes. I’m not doing anything today.”
I knew her well enough that she would make sure she was available for me all day, just in case.
We talked for another ten minutes until I had to splash some water on my face then go to class. I promised I would call her later in the afternoon and tell her about my first day. She said she would pop in on Jaxon before she left. Her eyes had sparkled at the thought of surprising her son.
I grinned because he was probably still sleeping. He wasn’t a morning person either. It was too bad we didn’t have classes together, but I’d taken what I could.
I’d gotten into art because of Jaxon. When we were little, he’d been the one always drawing or painting, and he would drag me outside to do it with him. I’d missed Summer so severely that I hadn’t fought him. We had both been alone, neither of us having a sibling. So we’d formed a bond. I wasn’t half bad at drawing and would always owe him for that. It gave me a sense of peace most of the time.
The walk to Professor Elian’s class felt as if I were in a bubble. I got there, but I didn’t remember how. When I found an empty seat seconds before class started, I pulled out my sketchbook and charcoal pencils. I’d been so excited to take the class, but I could only pay partial attention as she reviewed the project we would work on for the next two weeks.
Since I was toward the back of the class, I let my hand fly across the paper, sketching the same portrait I had since I was twelve. I knew why the faceless man had appeared ominously in charcoal—I could feel Mom breathing down my neck with her possible early release. No matter how hard I tried to bury the past, there was no escape. It was coming for me.
* * *
After stopping at the cafeteria, I followed the walkway to Jaxon’s dorm. Since he had started at Thane the first semester, I’d visited before with Brooke and James and had helped him move in. He was on the fourth floor. That had been a pain to move him into. My room was on the third and hadn’t been a piece of cake with the stairs either. It wouldn’t have been so difficult if only the elevator had been unlocked. And if I’d told my foster brother or let Brooke and James help me like they’d wanted to.
Neither one of us had classes for the rest of the day, and I’d brought a peace offering—art supplies. Whenever we got the chance, we tried to spend time working together on whatever project we had. I trudged up the stairs, securing my messenger bag over my shoulder a little better.
His dorm was busier, and I passed several students on the stairs. My legs burned by the time I got to his floor. Gah, I needed to get back into running. That was ridiculous. I went down one hallway, rounded another, and stopped in front of his door. I rapped my knuckles on it then waited. It didn’t take long.
