Page 88 of Fierce Love
The papers fall from my hands, scattering across the floor as I catch her and draw her onto my lap, cradling her close.
“What the fuck is that, Hols?” I ask, searching her face, my palm on her cheek, forcing her to look at me while I try to determine what I should be thinking or feeling.
“I can explain,” she whispers, and she closes her eyes. “I’ve been trying to figure outhowto explain.”
Chapter Forty-One
Hollyn
Fourteen years ago
When I turned eighteen, my aunt made me her emergency contact. At the time, I was honored to be given the responsibility, honored that in at least one area, I was a better option than my mother. In a crisis, I could come through.
But the reality of that decision doesn’t fully hit my head and my heart until the night the police call to say they’ve arrested my aunt.
On the way to the station, I just know my mom has something to do with this. Somehow, she’s pinned her crimes on my aunt, or my aunt’s taken the fall for another mistake Mickie’s made.Everything in me hums with anxiety. The timing couldn’t be worse.
Tomorrow, I’m supposed to be on a flight to New York, but I can’t leave if my aunt’s in trouble. I also can’t afford to change my flight or miss any of the transportation I’ve already paid for to get me onto campus from the airport. Everything was prebooked and prepaid.
At the station, the police direct me to a waiting area. In the chair beside me is a tall, hulking guy whom I vaguely recognize. Maybe from school? Though I think he’s already graduated.
“You get picked up?” he asks.
“No.” I shake my head. “My aunt.”
“Who’s that?”
“Verna Davis.”
“Verna Davis?” he asks, seemingly surprised. “Heard them talking. Something about money laundering—does that make sense?”
Not even a little. “You were here when they brought her in?”
“Didn’t see her. Just heard them all talking,” he says. “I’m supposed to have a ride-along. Thinking about becoming a cop.”
As far as I’m concerned, the cops in Bellerive are all crooked. None of them has ever been useful to me. Not one stopped my mom from hurting me or put her in jail long enough to keep her from ruining my life over and over. Now she’s ruining my aunt’s life too.
“You’re going to need a lawyer.”
“We don’t have any money for a lawyer.” I run my hands along my thighs and try to think about how I can fix this. There has to be a way. There has to be something.
A crushing weight is pressing down on my shoulders. My aunt can’t go to jail. Then I remember I was supposed to see Nate after my shift. My heart aches, and I consider calling him. Buthe told me he had some important things to do today. I glance at the clock on the wall.
Maybe this is all a terrible misunderstanding and I’ll still be able to meet Nate at the campground later tonight. We’ll get to see each other one last time. My heart thumps in my chest.
No part of me believes that.
The piece of toast I ate earlier sloshes around in my stomach. I’m supposed to be going to work in an hour for my final shift. I text Franny to tell her I’m not going to make it in. It feels like the one thing I can do, something I have some control over.
Stupid. Silly. The last thing that matters is my last shift.
What if tonight isn’t my last? If I need to pay for a lawyer for my aunt, I can’t go away to college tomorrow. I likely can’t go at all. All the plans I had to get off this island, get out from under the crushing pressure of poverty, are going up in smoke, burned down by my mother—just like always.
I put my head in my hands, and I try to keep myself from losing the tenuous control I have over my emotions. Crying isn’t an option, but I can feel panic creeping in.
Athwacksounds from the front door, and then a clatter of other noises followed by excessive swearing. I’d know that tone anywhere. My pulse jumps, a reflex where Mickie Davis is concerned. Fight-or-flight activated, though if I’m honest, I’m much more likely to freeze.
Whenever I’ve been faced with my mother’s viciousness, I’ve never been able to fight back in any convincing way.
