Page 17 of That Emerald Vow

“I’ll talk to you when you get here,” is all she says before she hangs up on me.

“Fuck!”What could have happened?

I slam my foot on the gas and peel out of the parking lot, getting to her college town as fast as I can, which is an hour away. Pain radiates through my hand as I slam my steering wheel in frustration, wishing I had ridden my bike this morning. It would have been faster.

With a lot of determination and unsafe driving, forty-five minutes later, I’m banging on my sister’s front door. Dani opens it, and I pull her into my arms. “Are you okay?” I push her out and inspect her from head to toe. “What happened?”

“I’m fine. Come in,” she says, looking guilty.

“You seem fine, physically. What’s going on?” I ask as I walk deeper into the apartment. My eyes are taking in my surroundings, trying to figure out what could be wrong. Everything seems to be as it was the last time I was here a few weeks ago.

“Sit, D,” says Dani.

I reluctantly sit across from her in a chair while she’s on the loveseat. “Talk, please. I’m worried.”

Dani is picking at her fingers, which is a bad habit from when we were kids. “It’s Mom,” she says, refusing to look me in the eye.

The blood flowing in my veins freezes over as a chill falls over me. “What? Why are you talking to her?” I struggle to maintain a neutral tone.

She looks up at me and then quickly back to my feet. “We—we never stopped . . .”

I squeeze my hands into fists and release to try to ease the tension continuing to build in my body. It’s not Dani’s fault, buthers.“Okay.” I let go of my fists one last time and take a deep breath. “Okay. What’s going on with her?” I couldn’t care less what’s happening with her, but I care how it involves my baby sister.

Dani tries to hide her anxiety behind a neutral expression as she says, “I’ve been talking to her on and off for a couple of years. Mostly to help with her commissary.” My jaw unconsciously flexes, but I try to stay calm. “I know what you’ll say, but it was easier to just give her something rather than argue . . . She’s persistent.”I would have let her rot.

“How did I not know any of this?” I ask.

Dani stares at her hands, refusing to meet my eye. “I didn’t want to worry you. I thought I had it under control.”

I try to ease the tension in my face. “Dani,youshouldn’t have to worry about this. That’s why they have my number.” Not that I have been picking up the phone when they call.Great going, Damon,I curse myself.

“She’s our mom . . . I didn’t know what to do. She needed the money for her basic needs,” she whispers.

“Where did you get the money?” I ask, knowing the answer. My mother taught me what not to do with my finances with how she “raised” us. I made sure I taught Dani the value of money, and even with me helping fund college and pay for basics, Dani has a job and knows how to take care of herself.

“It was whatever little I could afford. Nothing crazy.”

“Okay . . . And? Did she ask for too much? Do you need help?” I ask, my eyebrows furrowing.

Dani says, “No . . . But . . . her lawyer called me.”

I bite down on my tongue until I taste blood to prevent myself from saying something. That woman deserves to rot in hell for the rest of her life for what she did. The state prison will do fine for now.

“Mom’s dying,” she says.

For the first time since Dani called me an hour ago, I feel nothing.There should be some emotion, right?Anger? Sadness? Something. But I feel nothing. Actually, I do feel something—reprieve.

“And?” I ask.

Her mouth falls open. “Damon!”

“Damon!” my mother calls out. “What are you doing?”

I slowly turn from my crouched position in her closet to look at her in disbelief at what I found. “I think the better question is: What the fuck are these things?” I screamed at her as I waved the images of my sister looking like an adult prostitute.

“That is none of your damn business!” she sneers at me as she snatches the photos and tucks them back into the open shoebox. “What Frank and I do withourdaughter is our business.”

I’m fuming as I walk closer to her. My mind is going a million miles per hour at what she would do to my innocent little sister in the name of getting more drugs. Not to mention money for herself and her asshole boyfriend. “It sure fucking is when my sister looks twice her age. Looking like . . . like . . . you. I’m sure you have ulterior motives for these fucking pictures.”

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