Page 24 of The (Maybe) Murderer Who Knocked Me Up

I lie there and try to get back to sleep, but it’s impossible now that Slade is on my mind. That’s how it always is when I allowmyself to think about him. He’s all-consuming, even when he’s not here. I still remember in vivid detail what his lips felt like pressed against mine and how thoroughly he filled me. I even bought a dildo that looked like him, and every time I pleasure myself, I think of him.

Maybe if I see him one last time, I can finally let him go.

I finally give up on more sleep and sit up, holding Chime to my chest as I get out of bed. She wakes from the movement and crawls up my shoulders to wind herself along the back of my neck. I wince a little when her tiny claws dig into my shirt. It would be a lot easier if I could still sleep in my raccoon form, but as shifters get older, they can’t stay in their animal form for long without succumbing to their animal side completely. I can only be a raccoon for an hour or two a day now.

I walk into Chime’s bedroom and flip on the light. She jumps off my shoulders to the cat tower on the side of her bed. It’s a flat human bed, like mine. She doesn’t have any siblings to share a hammock with. That makes me feel guilty sometimes. I wish I could give her the same kind of big, bustling family I grew up with.

“I have to take a quick shower, okay? Put some clothes on and brush your teeth. We’ll leave for Grandmas’ when I’m done.”

I head back into my bedroom to the private bathroom that’s my favorite thing about this house. It’s not very big or anything. Just a small shower and pedestal sink with a toilet that has a cheap plastic lid, but it’s all mine. I always had to share growing up.

I shower as quickly as possible. Slade is scheduled to be released at ten in the morning, and it’s a two-hour drive to the prison from Moms’ house. I briefly wonder if I should have gotten some nice clothes for the occasion. I don’t have anything but plain T-shirts and ratty jeans. I probably should have at least gotten a haircut. My hair is past my ears now and uneven. I wipethe steamed-up mirror and take a look at myself. I’m certainly more of a man than I was the last time we met. Will he like that? Or will he take one look at me and wonder why he was interested in the first place?

I remind myself that it doesn’t matter. We aren’t mates. I only want to see him to figure out what’s going on with our messed-up bond.

Chime is waiting in the living room. As always, she’s wearing a brightly colored dress paired with leggings and her shoes with sequin hearts on the toe. She smiles up at me. “See? I’m wearing my daddy shoes.”

She always wears at least one article of clothing with sequins on it, and she makes sure to tell me what it is, as if I can’t see with my own two eyes. I absolutely love it.

“Are you all ready to go? Did you brush your teeth?”

She thinks about that for a moment. “Yes.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Really? Breathe on me.”

She sighs dramatically. “Never mind. I’ll go brush them.”

I glance at the clock above the oven. It’s almost seven o’clock. “Hurry, okay?”

She scampers out of the living room to her bathroom. While I wait, I pick up the stuffed animals that have migrated to the couch and put them back into the toy bins in her room. I find a lot of peace in keeping things tidy. Next, I move on to the kitchen to put a few dishes in the dishwasher—another luxury that makes me feel rich. Chime’s artwork is taped to every cupboard and hung on the fridge with magnets. One of the papers near the fridge handle has a smudge of jelly on it. Oops.

She runs back into the living room. “I’m done!”

“Okay. Let’s go.”

I almost get into the delivery van before remembering Aunt Emerald will need it to do the farmer’s market. Instead, I beeline for the red Jeep she lets me drive when I’m not on deliveries.

“We’re taking the Jeep today!” I call out.

“Why?” Chime asks, following me to where Aunt Emerald has parked it next to her trailer.

“Because Aunt Emerald is taking the van.”

“Why?”

“Because Aunt Emerald is helping me at the farmer’s market today.” That’s technically true. Not the whole truth, but close enough.

“Why?”

“Because I need help.”

“Why?”

I take a deep breath and remind myself that Chime’s curiosity is a good thing.

“Because I have an errand to run.”

We listen to her favorite playlist on the way there, which is largely comprised of Kids Bop covers of songs Coin played for her at some point and Taylor Swift. The whole time I think about Slade. What will he be like after six years in prison? Will he even want to talk to me? What if he just sits silently in the passenger’s seat until I drop him off, and I don’t get any resolution to this horrible ache inside me?

---