Page 93 of You're the Reason

He stood and eyed Gabe through the bars. “It doesn’t have to be this way.”

“What doesn’t?”

“You feel trapped, alone on an island with no way off. But people are willing to build a bridge to help you. You just have to stop burning those bridges to the ground. Grace cares what happens to you. I care what happens to you. You need to start caring about what happens to you.”

Gabe didn’t answer, but a bit of the hardness of his glare fell away. He opened his mouth to speak when the metal door opened and Hammond walked in and started unlocking Seth’s cell. “Looks like you’re free to go. Your mom showed up demanding we release her car and her possessions from impound.”

“So she confessed?”

“Not sure she was in her right mind. Once she’s through processing we’ll let her sober up here before we try to get the full story out of her. But that, combined with no traces of drugs or alcohol in your results, and the fact someone showed up giving you an alibi at the time of the car theft.” God bless him, Hammond sounded genuinely happy about it. “No reason to hold you, son.”

He didn’t know when the car was stolen, but he couldn’t help but hope it was yesterday around five because then that person might just be Grace.

Hammond opened the heavy metal door that led out of the holding cells.

Not Grace.

Jon stood by the far wall with Nate and Grant.

“Zane confessed to taking the money this morning.” Nate took a step forward. “Told me about what happened.”

“He told us the baggie of drugs was Gabe’s.” Jon shook his head. “It was a setup. To get the money. Gabe had some dirt on Zane and threatened to tell us if he didn’t take the cash for him.”

“You got the money back?”

“Oh, we’re pretty sure it was used to buy those drugs.” Grant flipped his keys over in his hand then again.

Then the last of the pieces fell into place. The money. The dealer holding out on his mom to try and draw her to town. “Gabe set it all up for me to take the fall.”

“Looks that way.” Officer Hammond handed him an envelope with the few possessions he had on him when he’d been arrested. “We’re holding him on some overdue parking tickets, but we’re hoping your mom’s confession can connect everything to put him away.”

The news should come as a relief. And in some way, it did. But he’d been honest with Gabe when he said he cared what happened to him. Gabe had been the only one there for him when he’d been cold and hungry as a kid. He couldn’t forget that. But he also couldn’t help someone who wouldn’t help himself, and Gabe might just have chosen to burn his last bridge.

seventeen

“If you’re really asking those questions, then my answer doesn’t matter... and there’s nothing more to talk about.”

Grace landed her final pirouette of the piece and struck her pose. She closed her eyes against the blinding spotlight as the music faded. She’d done it. Her jumps were high, her turns solid, everything had been perfect. The movement hadn’t even put a strain on her knee. Stepping back into the part of Giselle for tonight’s performance would be seamless.

“Thank you.” Alec’s voice echoed through the vacant auditorium, his face hidden among the dark rows of chairs. She assumed Madame Laurent was out there as well, but she really couldn’t see beyond the fifth row. “Send Mallory out to do her solo.”

She walked off stage and dropped on a bench to unlace her shoes. She’d stuck to her guns and come down Sunday, much to the protests of her parents. But she had wanted to see her girls dance even if the lift didn’t happen. Waiting had also allowed her to think, clear her thoughts, and piece things together.

“Just perfect.” Her mother approached her from down the hallway, her father a few feet behind. “If that doesn’t land you the leading role, then you need to consider moving to another company.”

“What are you doing here?” She couldn’t remember the last time they’d shown up for a practice or an audition. And then as if she’d said nothing, her mother leaned forward and hugged her. After that, her father stepped up and put his arm around her. What was going on?

“You don’t think we’d miss our daughter’s return to the stage, do you?” Her father pulled his phone from his pocket and started tapping at the screen.

“We even got tickets for the show,” her mother said.

“Fourth row, on the left?”

“Of course.” Her mother reached out and squeezed her hand. “But we were thinking about slipping out to get some food. Do you want anything?”

What? She shook her head.

“Okay. We can’t wait to watch you return to the stage tonight. We’re very proud of you, darling, and all your hard work.” Even her father smiled at her as they left.

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