Page 46 of Limbo

Everything stops, including my breath when I see them behind him. They’re standing in front of my door. Large yellow letters spell outSHERIFFacross the backs of their dark brown jackets.

Sometimes, the body confuses falling asleep with dying. It jerks and creates a fraction of a second of uncontrollable panic to kick-start your system again. The sensation coursing through me feels exactly like that, except a thousand times worse and immobilizing. The consequences of defying Graham are no longer avoidable. They’re here. In the flesh and waiting for me.

Jordan’s hand touches my cheek, bringing me back to him before he glances over his shoulder. “Cops?”

Both turn at the sound of his voice. The first, with his buzz cut and a square face, wears a harsh expression, cold and hard. The other is a younger version of the man next to him, except for shaggy, dark hair. His mouth turns down, displaying a more regretful look.

As he fucking should.

My anxiety turns to a burning rage, customarily reserved for Graham himself. But they’ll most certainly do. I storm toward them, unable to retain any sense of composure.

“You don’t have any fucking jurisdiction here, Kevin.” My voice bounces through the hall.

“Calm down.” Trey reaches out to stop me, touching my arm. A mistake he recognizes, but it’s too late.

I drive my palms into my cousin’s chest. It thrusts him backward despite the fifty pounds he has on me. Before I can get to him again, hands grip my shoulders from behind and drag me away from him.

“Callie, stop.” Jordan’s voice breaks through as I scowl at Trey, trying to convey, through only my expression, how much I despise him in this moment.

With even more remorse on his face than before, he adjusts half a step over to place himself between my uncle and me. “Either we came or Graham was coming.”

The attempt at justifying his actions sends heat surging through me. “Screw you, Trey!”

“Callista—”

“Callie,” I hiss at Kevin.

“Whatever.” He extends an arm, moving Trey out of his way. “Pack a bag.”

“You can’t make me go with you.”

“I’ll say it one more time. Pack. A. Bag.”

My nails dig deep into my palms. The aggression demanding an escape. “I have to admit, the sheriff doing Graham’s dirty work is a new low. Nothing better to do tonight than help your little brother fuck up my life? The taxpayers must be proud.”

His eyes narrow as his shoulders broaden. “Damn it, Callista, enough!”

“Callie,” I shout back.

“Cal, please.” Trey holds up his hands, reinforcing his plea.

The three names swirl in the hall, each with a different set of expectations. I sense one of those moments—the worst kind—as my worlds collide for the first time. The past in front of me and the present behind me, and I stand in the middle where they’ll crush me. Unable to stop them. Unable to move out of their way.

Helpless.

Kevin zeroes in on Jordan long enough to justify my fear before he smirks. “You been drinking tonight,Callie?” He spits my name like an insult.

A lump forms in my throat, and my mind races to figure out where he’s going with the question.

Before I can, he sticks his chin up, his stare back on Jordan. “You have ID on you, son?”

Trey’s wide eyes connect with mine, his father’s next move crystal clear to both of us now.

“Dad, don’t.” He raises an eyebrow at me, saying what his words can’t.

Message received, I spin and touch Jordan’s arm, so he looks at me. “Don’t show him anything. Don’tsayanything. He can’t do anything here.”

He nods, returning his gaze over my shoulder.

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