Page 12 of This for That (The Edge of Retaliation 1)
There are moments in your life when your whole world comes to a complete stop.
Everything around you fades out.
Everything except the loud pounding of your heart in your chest. It radiates through your head until it is all you can hear.
Noises, people, the surroundings—they all become nothing.
That’s exactly what happens the moment my sentence is called out. I can’t feel. I can’t think. I can’t focus. Not on the wailing of my mother, or the way Celia’s family hug each other. Not on the slamming of the judge’s hammer on her desk. Nothing. It all fades into nothing. I can’t move. I can’t think. I can’t feel.
Not even when Joanne comes over and her hand curls over mine.
The only friend I have left in this world. The only one who forgives me.
When the guard orders me to stand, I’m snapped back into reality like a brutal slap to the face. The noise and surroundings come back into my conscious, and tears burst forth and roll down my cheeks..
“No!” I cry, as handcuffs are snapped on my wrists. “No, please. I didn’t do it. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t . . .”
My mother is sobbing. My father is trying to make his way over to me, but is being stopped by officers. Max is emotionless, staring at me with a look of horror on his face. Joanne is crying.
Celia’s family, they’re all watching as I get pulled away. I don’t focus on any of them. I couldn’t tell you how many there are. I sob as I’m removed from the room.
Six years.
I’m going away for six years.
If the judge said anything else, I didn’t hear it.
I can’t breathe as they take me out back.
Someone, please, make it stop. Wake me up from this nightmare. Please, I’m begging you.
Please.
6
NOW – CALLIE
“You’ve got to be shitting me!” I snap, glaring at the flat tire on my car. Well, Joanne’s spare car that she’s letting me use.
As a part of some of the youth programs in the prison, we were able to get our license, which was beneficial for us when we entered the outside world again. We were also made to finish school. At the time, I didn’t care for any of these things, but I’m suddenly very grateful now.
I’m a nervous driver, and every time I’m behind the wheel, I feel a strong anxiety building in my chest, but I have to get back out there. I have to find a job. I have to get back into life. I can’t rely on Joanne forever.
Now I’m staring at her car, wondering what the hell happened. Somehow, in the time since I’ve gotten out of it and walked the entire main street looking for a job, it has gotten itself a flat.
I don’t know how to change a damn tire.
Hell, I don’t even know what the ever-loving hell I need to do so.
“Need some help?”
I flinch and stand upright way too fast. I stumble backwards and a big hand curls around my arm before I hit the pavement and hauls me back up to my feet.
I look up, fumbling. “Shit. I’m so clumsy. Thank . . .”
I trail off when I get a look at the man who pulled me up. He’s probably the most terrifyingly beautiful creature I’ve ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on. Of course, I haven’t had a great deal of men to look at, but this one . . . wow.
He’s tall, like, easily six foot. His muscles practically make up the entirety of him. He’s ripped, probably from head to toe. He’s huge in build, with broad shoulders, big biceps and the strongest-looking forearms I’ve ever seen. He has tattoos running all the way up them, disappearing under his shirt and popping out again at his neck, reaching right up to his ear.
Holy crap.
Then there is that face. He’s the very meaning of tall, dark, and handsome. Add a little danger, and you’ve got the perfect man. His dark hair is messy atop his head. His face is shadowed with a light beard that only makes him look more rugged. He has the most incredible deep brown eyes I’ve ever seen. He’s got a chiseled jaw, full lips, and a scar through his eyebrow.
He’s incredible.
“Don’t mention it.”
He releases me and I steady myself, feeling my cheeks burn. Am I blushing? Good lord, someone make it stop.
“Need a hand?” he asks again.
“Oh, ah, yes please. My tire is flat. I’ve never had to change one before.”
He looks at me, like he’s surprised by that. “That so.”
I give him a sheepish smile. “That’s so.”
“Let me take a look for you. Name is Tanner. What’s yours?”
“Oh, ah, Callie.”
Tanner.
Holy hot.
He walks to the trunk of my car when I pop it open, and pulls out everything he needs. He gets to work undoing my flat and replacing it with the spare.
