Page 35 of The Trust We Broke
He’s yelling at his mom, who jumps out of the truck and grabs my elbow, hurrying the two of us toward the diner.
I glance over my shoulder as she drags me, and I’m relieved to see the flashing lights of a squad car.
“Keep running, Lucy,” Corinne Williams says, without the hint of a waver in her voice.
Meanwhile, my knees shake. Hell, my whole body does.
She shoves me into a booth away from the window. “Sit. I’ll be back.”
It’s impossible to sit when the sheriff is shouting instructions and Grudge’s truck obstructs my view. I can’t see him or the two other bikers.
And I want to at least be a witness to whatever is going on.
“Drink this,” Corinne says, slapping a cup of coffee down on the table, the dark liquid sloshing over the edge. “Then get out of here as soon as this bullshit is wrapped up.”
The sharp words hurt more than just about any I’ve heard. Because once, I looked at Corinne as the mom I always wished I had. She remembered my birthday, even made me a cake. She knitted a sweater in a rich amethyst color because she thought it would suit me. And she welcomed me into her home and family, telling me I was the daughter she longed for.
When I did what I did to Zach, I didn’t just lose him, I lost the idea of the family I dreamed about. A functional one, that talked, that ate together and genuinely enjoyed each other’s company.
When my father spoke, my heart would catch in my chest in fear of whatever it was he was about to say. When Corinne spoke, I leaned in, ready to hear whatever it was she wanted to say.
“I’m sorry, Corinne,” I say.
She places her hands on her hips as she looks out the window. “Yeah, well, you’re way too late with that, so save it.”
It hurts almost as much as her son’s response to seeing me. Maybe it’s self-centered to consider myself in the damage I caused, but I lost a whole family that day, not just Zach.
“It wasn’t as simple as you think,” I say. I hug my hands around the mug, the tightness in my chest easing as Grudge climbs back into his truck and parks it properly. When I have a clear view of the street, I see that the other bikers have left.
The knowledge that the crisis has been averted allows my heart rate to normalize.
Grudge stomps into the diner, scans around, and sees us. “You okay, Ma?” he asks, placing a hand on her shoulder. When she nods reassuringly, he turns his gaze to me. “What the fuck was that about?”
I can see the rage and confusion in his eyes when he looks at me. Yet it’s hard not to collapse into him. To let him wrap me in those big strong arms of his while he reassures me everything is going to be okay.
“I don’t know.” It doesn’t feel good to lie to him when he was ready to step in front of me, again, without explanation. But l can’t share my growing hypotheses about my father’s connection to the Rebels. Not when I don’t have the full picture. I’d never present a half-baked case to the jury, especially when the story might change with further discovery.
At least, that’s what I try to convince myself.
“You don’t know why two Rebel bikers were charging toward you?” He tugs a hand through his hair. “Good thing we turned the fucking corner when we did. You really want to end up in their crosshairs, Luce?”
I’ve stood in a courtroom and held my own beneath the withering stare of prosecutors, witnesses, subject matter experts, and detectives. But the weight of Corinne’s and Grudge’s glares is enough to make me wilt internally.
“No,” I say quietly. “I really don’t.” Finally, I look up at him. “I don’t want most of what is happening right now, but we don’t always get a choice, do we?”
Then, I place my cup of coffee on the table and try to keep my head up as I leave the diner before I ruin both our lives all over again by telling him everything.
9
LUCY
It’s unusual for a lawyer to take the time to visit a client at their home and become friends with them, but I find myself standing in front of Dr. Greer Hansen’s door anyway after texting her for her address.
Even though I know full well that it might bring me face-to-face with Nolan “Butcher” Deeks again.
Because I need a friend.
And I’m one of those women that, sadly, doesn’t have a lot of those. I spent most of my time when I was young with Grudge. So many others from school and college wanted to associate with me because of my father’s money. I have colleagues in New York, even people I’d go out for drinks with on a Friday evening.
