Page 36 of Free to Judge
I force myself out of the car. I know I’ll need to share something with her despite the warning pinging around my head like a ticking time bomb. Just as I’m about to spill my guts, she fills the space with excitement. “Kalie! What are you doing home so early? Not that I’m complaining.” She gives a quick look around as if she’s expecting someone else with me.
I step into her embrace and stand there stiffly for a moment before relaxing into it.
Her arms tighten around me briefly before letting go. She studies my face with a look that tells me she knows I’m holding back on her. “What’s going on?”
“Declan Conian.” His name comes out barely above a whisper.
Her eyes widen like saucers. “You saw him? Again?”
I nod, licking my lips.
Her happiness dissipates as if it was never there to begin with. It’s then I realize I can’t tell her who else I saw him with—our cousin, our uncle. My father. My lips hold back the words deep down in my gut. The warning at Hudson is setting off alarm bells too loud to ignore.
Grace’s shock shifts to immediate concern. “Did he threaten you? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say quickly, too quickly. “He hardly spoke to me.” I’m not sure if she buys my exaggeration of the truth or not, but it’s close enough. He didn’t need to speak—even though he said plenty.
Just his presence in my father’s office said enough.
I expect her to offer some words of comfort, but instead, she fixes me with a piercing look and demands, “What did your dad say about it?”
That question cuts through me. Every member of our extended family believes in my father and trusts that he’ll make the worst wrongs right. But with my trust in him crumbled to specks of doubt after what I overheard, I have to force down my resentment. “He says we’re safe—that we’re not targets. Claims there’s a team working on taking them out.” My voice hopefullydoesn’t betray the storm of anger I’m forcing aside for her benefit.
Grace draws in a long, steadying breath. I look into her eyes as she tries to process the tangled mess I’ve gotten us all into when I decided to play judge and jury with one single punch. “I hope he’s right.”
Then she grips my hand, giving it a quick, reassuring squeeze—as if to remind me that at least one person will always be in my corner. “You’d tell me if something was really wrong, wouldn’t you?”
“Of course,” I lie as smoothly as my father. As Uncle Caleb. As Jon. With that realization, my stomach churns.
She pulls back and gives me a firm look. “Then let’s go inside and you can help me pack.”
“Pack? For what?” My voice is tinged with disbelief. Did my father get Grace to move out? Get her out of the way.
She lopes an arm around my waist before guiding me up to our front porch. “I have the International Anaplastology Association conference in Belgium in like a week.”
I slap my hand against my forehead. “God, Gracie. I think I left my brain somewhere.”
“Jail?” she teases in a sarcastic tone to make light of that now infamous day.
“Ha, ha.” I chuckle, deciding to play along. If I confess that it’s not just my sanity but my faith that has decided to take a long run off a short course since visiting my father’s office, she’d never leave. Plus, Grace deserves this. She’s so excited to reestablish a relationship with her mentor, Dr. Amato, from theCenter for Craniofacial Epithetics. Changing the subject, I grin slyly. “So, are you excited about the trip?”
Her eyes spark in a way I haven’t seen in years. “So much, Kalie.”
I can’t resist teasing, “Any plans to see if there are any sparks left between you two, Surgeon?” I grin when she growls at her old lacrosse nickname due to her stick skills and passing capabilities on the field. Grace, once a lacrosse star at UCONN with a full scholarship, shifted her ambitions from kinesiology while on a summer internship. During her junior year, studying advanced anaplastology overseas with Dr. Amato, she hadn’t just learned techniques—she’d rediscovered her own resilience as a woman.
She rolls her eyes, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. “None whatsoever.”
I shake my head, laughing softly. “Only you could end things while living up to your name—Grace.”
Her smile falters for just a moment. “Not all my relationships end that way, as you well know,” she reminds me quietly.
Between us hangs an unspoken secret, carefully hidden from the rest of our family—the kind of secret shared only between us and Laura. Yet now I carry on my back something even more dangerous, a truth that could hurt everyone if it comes to light.
The danger found in lies.
I draw in a deep breath, plastering on a smile. “Well, just in case, it’s up to me to ensure you pack not only your latest silicone developments, but also the pieces that turn heads for an entirely different reason.”
Hand in hand, we climb the stairs. As we round the corner, my eyes catch sight of my office—a stark reminder of the day Iendured and the work I still have to do as a result of it. Muttering under my breath, I remark, “Maybe it’s better if I work from home for the next few days.”
