Page 3 of Holidays and Handcuffs

Her voice is so soft, so genuine, it tugs at something inside me. I glance down at her. “Princess, you don’t have to pay me back.”

She stops walking for a moment and reaches into her school bag, pulling out a small bead bracelet. “I want you to have this. I made it myself.”

It’s simple, with small colorful beads strung together. My gaze shifts from the bracelet to her face, there’s something about the fact that she’s offering me something she made herself.

Instead of taking it, I hold out my left hand to her. “How about you put it on me?”

She blinks in surprise, then a soft smile spreads across her lips. She carefully slides the bracelet onto my wrist, her fingersbrushing my skin as she does. When it’s in place, she steps back and looks up at me, her smile growing as she says, “it suits you.”

I glance down at the bracelet on my wrist, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

“Well, thanks. I’ll make sure to wear it every time.”

We’ve reached her house now. “You should go in,” I tell her gently, nodding toward the door.

She looks at me for a moment longer, then nods. “Okay. Goodnight, Jack.”

“Goodnight, Emily.”

She steps up to the porch and unlocks the door, glancing back at me once before disappearing inside. I stay there, my feet planted on the sidewalk, watching the house, she’s home. Safe.

I shouldn’t be here, especially with what I’m about to do tomorrow. As I walk away, glancing at the bead on my wrist, my mind goes back to all the events of the past few months.

Tomorrow, I’m about to turn her family’s world upside down. I’ve got proof that Billy, her brother, is dealing drugs to high school kids.

I’ve seen him several times, sneaking around behind the gym after hours, handing out little baggies to kids who didn’t know any better. For weeks I have been taking pictures and videos of the whole thing. It wasn’t just rumors anymore; I had the evidence. The kind that would stick.

Billy’s been getting away with this for too long, and I’m sick of it. Sick of him poisoning our town, sick of the mess the likes of him are making in our town. But mostly, I’m sick of how he’s left Emily to fend for herself while he plays King of the Dirtbags.

I’ve spent too long watching Billy spiral out of control. I gave him the benefit of the doubt, hoping he’d straighten up, but he never did. Now, he's dealing to minors. That’s a line you don’t cross.

The next day, I walk into the courthouse with the evidence I had on Billy. I testify, laying out everything I saw and every bit of evidence I collected. The pictures, the times, the locations. By the time I’m done, there’s no doubt left in anyone’s mind.

Billy is guilty.

It’s a weird feeling, watching the judge deliver the verdict. Part of me feels relief, like a weight’s been lifted. The other part? Guilt. Not because Billy didn’t deserve it. He absolutely did, but because I know how this will affect Emily. She doesn’t deserve any of this.

Shortly after Billy was sentenced, my family moved out of Auburn. It wasn’t by choice. I would’ve stayed if I could. New assignment for my dad who’s in the military, meaning we had to move. But as the years went by, I couldn’t stop thinking about Emily. One day, I’ll protect her and love her the way her family has always failed to do.

Chapter 1

Ten Years Later

Emily

The crisp December air bites at my skin as I drive down Main Street, my breath fogging in the cold. Christmas decorations line the streets, strings of twinkling lights crisscrossing above, wreaths hanging from every lamp post, and a giant tree stands tall in the town square.

Christmas is just a day away, but I can't summon a flicker of excitement. Instead of joining the festive cheer, I promised my boss I’d work today, to work on tasks my colleagues left behind while they enjoy the holiday break.

My phone buzzes in my purse, pulling me from my thoughts. I pull it out, glancing at the screen. Mom. Great. I debate taking the call. Taking a deep breath, I answer, because she won’t stop calling until I do.

“Hello, Mom,” I answer, trying to sound more composed than I feel.

“What took you so long to answer?” my mother’s voice screeches through the speaker, sharp and frantic. “Where are you? The doctors are saying Billy might need a kidney transplant. You need to get to the hospital right now.”

I stop in my tracks, the blood draining from my face. “A kidney transplant? I—I didn’t know it was that bad.” This morning, I got a text from Dad saying Billy is sick.

“Well, it is,” she snaps, her voice tinged with both fear and accusation. “You need to come now. We don’t have time for you to dawdle.”

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