Page 37 of Deliver Me

She smiled and straightened to her full height, back ramrod straight. “I’m afraid I’m still not interested, but thanks anyway.”

He sputtered awkwardly at her quick rejection; his tone perplexed as he stammered. “You’re still mad?”

“I’m not mad, I’m just not interested.” She shrugged and decided to give him the whole truth. “I’m in a relationship with someone else.”

“Who?” He tapped his fingers on his thigh, the corner of his mouth turning up in disbelief. “I haven’t seen you hanging around with anyone. Is it someone I know?”

“No, I’m romantically involved with Gabriel.” It certainly wasn’t any of his business who she dated, but she wanted him to know. He needed to understand that she had made a choice and it wasn’t him.

“Gabriel? The guy from prison that you’re writing to?”

“Yep, that’s the one.” She went back to rearranging chairs and turned her back to him.

“So, you won’t date me because you’re talking to some guy that won’t ever get out of prison? He’s a murderer!”

Mia turned to face him, her defense ready on her lips, when she noticed that someone else had come to stand behind James, her eyes now glittering with undisguised malice.

“How interesting,” Mrs. Newberry muttered. “It seems those felons have brought sin into our midst, after all. Exactly as I predicted.”

Mia smiled stiffly, baring her teeth as Mrs. Newberry flounced away triumphantly without another word. She tried to comfort herself with the knowledge that at least Kennedy wouldn’t be the subject of that night’s gossip, but by the time they got home she was livid. She’d spoken without thinking and there was no way to stop Mrs. Newberry from gossipingabout her relationship and pointing a finger of blame at Lilly for suggesting the program to begin with.

She’d have to have to tell her father about the trial now and her commitment to be with Gabriel through the process, something she might have been able to avoid for months if she’d taken the time to choose her words more wisely.

Gabriel held her letter as his past rose up from his memories to wrap around him, the sounds and the smells of it all almost as real as it had been when it happened. He’d had to tell her, couldn’t let her love him or hope for a future when she didn’t know the things he had done, but now that she’d read the letter there was no going back.

It might have been enough to finally drive her away and if she was going to reject him now, if he had to find out that she was disgusted by him and the things he’d lived through ... Fear of her disgust was a writhing coil inside him. He was glad he’d decided to write it instead of telling her during a call. Her rejection would be devastating either way but if he heard her say it out loud, he knew he’d never stop hearing it, that it would echo in his mind in the dark silences for the rest of his life.

He would deserve that, but he knew he couldn’t live with it, that it would drive him mad.

Opening the letter would be the hardest thing he’d ever done, worse even than standing alone in that courtroom so many years ago waiting to find out his fate. Somehow it felt like there was more of his life resting on the contents of this envelope than there had been on the judge’s words. His hands shook as he tore the envelope and inside was a single sheet of paper covered on both sides with the same three words written over and overagain, as though she knew he wouldn’t believe her the first time and hoped by the end he might.

He put his head in his hands, his heart breaking painfully open to let her the rest of the way inside. She knew the worst there was to know about him and this was her response, to reach out to him with more love than he had ever known.

It was agony to wait, but he called her as soon as he was able, and she answered on the first ring, like he wasn’t the only one that had been waiting.

“Hello?”

“Mia! I love you, too.”

After that all he could think about was her and what he could do to make sure he didn’t let her down. He mulled it over for weeks, holding one copy of the photo Mia had paid for of the two of them together and imagining the way that she had looked as she sat perched on that stupid fucking wobbly orange plastic chair in the visitor’s room. She was everything to him and he could have a life with her if he could just have this new trial go his way. He was being offered a miracle, and he wasn’t going to turn his back on it even if he did think God owed him an apology.

He didn’t know if he could get a decent lawyer in time, six months wasn’t long when you had no money and the idea of depending on whoever the court assigned to his defense made him sick to his stomach. There were people he could write to, ones that took on cases for people like him and did it for free, but there were always more requests than they could actually take on and he knew his chances were slim.

There was only one option if he wanted to be with Mia so he did the most humiliating thing that he could think of, because he had meant it when he promised her that he would do anything in the world for her. He picked up the phone and called his mother—whose name he had added to the list of people he could call when he first came to this fucking place and who had never onceactually tried to contact in all the years since—prepared to beg for her to help him afford the lawyers and the private detective that he needed to have a real chance at a life.

She didn’t answer.

“What do you mean she still didn’t answer? How many times have you tried calling now?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said but there was enough sorrow in his eyes that she wanted to scream her frustration. “We need to focus on trying to find someone who’s willing to take the case. Anyone has to be better than another public defender who doesn’t give a shit.”

Her hand tightened on his reflexively, rage bubbling in her stomach. It was a blessing to know he’d at least have a lawyer now that they were dealing with a new trial and not an attempt to undo the effects of a conviction but depending on overworked and underpaid lawyers had gotten him into this mess in the first place. “We’ll find someone. I can’t believe how awful and underfunded the public defender program is in this state.”

“Hey,” he shook his head, nodding slightly at the guard that had turned to look at her as her voice rose in agitation. “It’s alright, calm down.”

She huffed but settled back down in her seat. “It’s just bullshit,” she said quietly. “It’s already been two months. Have you heard back from that non-profit place?”

“Not yet,” he told her grimly. “They’re still reviewing my request for help. They have more cases than they can handle, and only take on the ones that are most desperate, with the highest chance of success.”

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