Page 79 of Things We Burn

Sentencing was the next day.

The way this case had been fast tracked was very rare, Victoria told me. A good thing, considering bail had been refused.

He was given a year.

Ayear.

My blood drained from my body, and the whole world tilted when the ruling came down.

I noted the fury on Victoria’s face, her opening her mouth—presumably to argue with the judge—the judge’s sniveling, beady eyes narrowing on her, ruddy cheeks turning redder with obvious fury.

For the life of me, I didn’t know what they were saying.

My eyes were on Kane. They hadn’t left me since the ruling was announced.

He crooked his finger to me playfully, amongst the ruckus, as if we weren’t in a courtroom where one year of his life was just stolen from him but at a crowded party where we’d been separated for a few seconds.

Though my mind was reeling, my body knew what to do—obey Kane.

I was already at the front of the courtroom, I just had to stand and walk a few steps. My limbs were jelly as I walked woodenly to him.

When I was within grabbing distance, Kane grasped the back of my neck and drew me to him. Our mouths met, tongues clashing, the world around us long forgotten. It was just me and him.

For one blissful, magical moment.

Until our private world was interrupted, roughly and violently… the banging of a gavel.

“We gotta take you now,” a bailiff standing behind Kane said, almost apologetically.

Kane didn’t move, his lips brushing mine.

“You’ve got to let her go,” he urged.

“No, I don’t. Not ever,” Kane murmured to me. “You promise you’ll be there?”

“I promise,” I whispered.

“Then I’ll see you. Love you, Chef.” He gave my neck a squeeze then stepped back.

My body already ached from his absence. And it was the hardest thing I ever did, watching them take him away.

A terrified and knowing voice told me I’d never see him again.

Fourteen

It was onlya handful of days later that my world imploded. Again.

Kane had been transferred to the prison where he’d be serving his time. The judge had said, given his ‘light’ sentence, violent, prior offenses and ‘nature of the crime,’ he deserved to be in a maximum-security prison. With violent offenders. Murderers.

Victoria had fought that tooth and nail. She’d ended up being held in contempt when she wouldn’t let the judge shut her up. She’d then promised me she’d use all of her resources to ensure that Kane did not remain there.

I'd nodded, believing she intended to use any and all connections and talent she had, but I’d accepted that the system had spoken. Even though it was horrible, I reminded myself that many men and women were given much, much harsher sentences for lesser crimes on account of their socioeconomic status, skin color or religion. Kane was, as hard as it was to swallow, getting off easy in some respects.

He was being moved to a maximum-security prison two hours outside of the city. She assured me that it would take awhile for transport to get him situated, then I would be able to visit.

“Not that he’ll be there long enough for you to make more than one visit,” she promised.

Two hours away and locked in a cell. That’s where Kane would be. For a year. I couldn’t hold any food down at the thought of it.

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