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“You didn’t know?”
“No.” Kaelyn gives me a helpless look.
“Oh dear.” Vanessa pulls her bottom lip into her mouth. “I thought—well, that’s not good.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Vanessa says quickly.
“Mom, whatever it was, it was enough to have you storm over here.” She glances through her window. Pushes the curtain aside. “And Dad’s waiting on the porch like he’s looking for the signal that you need back up.” Kaelyn faces her mother again. “Spit it out.”
Vanessa wrings her hands. “Now I wished I’d listened to your father and just let it be.”
With Vanessa stalling and Kaelyn getting more and more wound up, I jump into action. Pulling out my phone, I open the search engine and tap in Kaelyn’s name.
There are recent links and I click on the top one.
Who Is Kastle Jameson’s New Girlfriend?
There’s a picture of me and Kaelyn on the screen.
I scroll low and skim the contents.
My face goes pale.
“What is it?” Kaelyn whispers.
“They…” Vanessa sucks in a deep breath, “they wrote about the abduction.”
Kaelyn’s gasp echoes through the room. My fingers dig into my phone as I read the article. There’s far too many details. Too many. Kaelyn’s parents went to great lengths to keep the media quiet about what happened. The coverage over the incident was mild to protect Kaelyn.
But now it’s out there.
Her scars. Her trauma. For the world to see.
I look up and meet Kaelyn’s eyes. I can read the thoughts running through her mind as if they’re printed on her forehead. My chest expands on a deep, tortured breath. Familiar unease tightens my throat.
There’s only one person who would sink to this level.
Only one person who would want to punish Kaelyn in front of the world.
My mother.
Thirty-Three
Kaelyn
I thought exposing the truth of the kidnapping would feel like an invisible hand was wrapped around my throat. I thought it would paralyze me. Beat me. Scald me. I thought I would break.
And for a second, I do.
Despair and distress pour over my shoulders like a bucket of ice water.
I read the articles and I shudder.
My heart runs behind my ribs to hide and cry and pray that I’m dreaming. That my name isn’t plastered all over the internet. For that. For the trauma that still haunts me to this day.
Some part of me knew the notoriety would come. Kastle is an important person to so many. To a million people who spend their Saturday nights watching him on TV. Bingeing hours and hours of his family’s show. Feeling like they know him. Grew up with him. Groomed him. Like he was their own.
