Page 95 of Free to Judge
A bitter laugh escapes. That was my first mistake. Thinking he was like any of them.
My second mistake was believing he gave me the parts of himself he’d never shared with anyone else.
I head into my closet and yank down one of my larger suitcases. Throwing clothes onto my bed, my mind is set on one goal—distance. I need to figure out how to get space and time to process the ruin Declan left in his wake without him knowing where I am or, worse, following me.
Considering he might have more burner phones than I do pairs of running sneakers, I want to make one thing explicitly clear. I text him one final time.
Kalie:
Don’t contact me again. I’m done. We’re done.
As I stuff my suitcase to the brim with clothes, my phone rings from where it lays. The sight of his name flashing on the screen causes a pulse of anxiety to shoot through me. There’s no way I’m picking up. After his little speech this morning and our FaceTime, what more is there to say?
How’s he going to explain to my heart what happened?
No, I can’t hear his excuses. Not right now. If it’s something important about my protection, he’ll contact one of the agents or my father. If I have to hear his voice, it will crack open my chest and set all of my emotions loose.
I ignore the persistent ringing until it finally stops. My heart pounds in my chest, a mix of anger and hurt that I’m not sure I’ll ever escape. Then, all at once, everything explodes. My phone, my door, and my heart.
I pray to God it isn’t him. I’m not ready to face him. Not now, not yet. I inch my way to the door just as it swings open.
“Sweetheart,” my mother greets me. Her eyes flick from the bag to my face, and she comes to a resolve in a single second. She beckons to someone in the hallway. “She’s in here, Keene.” Before I can so much as draw breath, my father is in the room, wrapping me in his arms.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he soothes.
I shake my head against his chest. “No. No, it’s not.”
“It will be,” he reassures.
“Why would he hurt me like this, Dad?”
His arms tighten around me. “Because he’s the same as I was. He’s trying to keep you out of the line of fire to protect you.”
“No, he’s not. He’s not you, Dad. He doesn’t love me. He walked out of here this morning and said we needed to cool off until his case was through. Then, he wentthere.” I spit the last word.
He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching my face. “He went where?”
“To a stripper, Dad. In public. Caught on camera.” I scrub my face to wipe away wasted tears. “I guess I should be grateful it was caught, so I know what he’s really like, huh?”
“Let me see.”
My bitterness is tinged with the wetness of my tears. “It’s not hard to find. Just go to Sexy & Social’s site. Hope they haven’t crashed with the number of hits.”
Carefully, he probes, “What did he tell you before he went there?”
“That he had to go to a meeting. That he’d come back to me after this job is over.”
His face is a stony mask before he finally says, “That’s it?”
“Yes!”
“Nothing else?”
“Nothing! He didn’t have to. I mean, obviously, he has other entertainment to keep him busy. He doesn’t need me.” I feel a fresh wave of tears threaten to overwhelm me.
My mother’s hand falls to my shoulder. “Sweetheart, I didn’t want to say this in the chat, but you know better than to trust what you see on those sites. You should talk to him.”
Meeting her eyes, I tell her flatly, “I did.”
