The Inmate (16)

I grab my backpack and climb out of the car, slamming the door behind me. I look up at the sky, and the clouds look heavy—they’re about to break open at any second. I pick my way through the dirt pathway to the front door, my backpack on my shoulder. Shane grabs it from me when I reach the door.

“Let me take that, Brooke,” he says with a grin.

“What a gentleman!” Chelsea declares. She gives Tim a pointed look, and he dutifully holds out his arm to Kayla, who dumps her gigantic duffel bag in his arms. I swear to God, that girl has packed enough stuff for a month.

After we’re inside the house, I shut the screen door behind us. Even though I’ve watched Shane fix that screen door with my own eyes, it always seems to hang off the hinges. I suspect the entire door needs to be replaced, but he doesn’t have the money for it. Mrs. Nelson already works two minimum wage jobs and they need Shane’s salary at the pizza parlor just to pay for rent and food.

As I turn the lock on the front door, Shane grabs me and pulls me in for a kiss. I melt like I always do. And he smells nice tonight. Not that he doesn’t always smell good, but he smells extra nice tonight. It’s that aftershave he sometimes uses.

“I love your aftershave,” I murmur.

“It’s sandalwood scented.”

I frown. “What’s sandalwood?”

“I don’t know. The wood you make sandals from?”

“So basically, you smell like feet?”

He laughs. “Hey, you’re the weirdo who likes it…”

Shane kisses me again, but when I pull away, I get an uneasy feeling. A prickly sensation on the back of my neck. Like somebody’s watching me.

I jerk my head around. Tim is standing across the room, staring at us, an unreadable expression on his face. But when our eyes meet, he quickly looks away. Good thing, because I wouldn’t want Shane to know he was staring at us that way.

“So,” Shane says, “you brought Tim, huh?”

There’s disapproval in Shane’s dark eyes. Tim hates Shane, but it’s not like Shane is any big fan of Tim’s either. I need to change that.

“He’s a good guy,” I say, a touch defensively.

“Hmm.”

“Also, Chelsea brought Kayla along for him. For, you know…”

Shane is quiet for a moment. “Okay,” he says. “That’s fine. We have three bedrooms anyway.”

I let out a sigh of relief. Shane doesn’t usually get too worked up over stuff, but you never know. After all, I’ve only been dating him for three months. There’s still plenty of time for his dark side to come out. But so far, I haven’t seen it. Despite Tim’s ominous warnings.

“Hey, Reese!” Shane holds up a hand in greeting. “Glad you could make it.”

I finger the snowflake necklace around my throat as Shane saunters over to Tim. Shane is making an effort because he knows Tim is important to me, and I appreciate that. The two of them start talking, and it looks friendly enough. I can’t hear what they’re saying—Shane is speaking quietly and Tim is responding in an equally hushed tone. I strain to hear them over the sound of Chelsea and Kayla chatting a few feet away from me, but it’s no use. They’re talking too quietly.

But it doesn’t matter what they’re saying. They’re not fighting, and that’s all that’s important.

I consider going over to join them, but before I can contemplate it further, the door to the kitchen swings open with a loud creak. Brandon bursts into the room, carrying two pizza boxes balanced in one hand and a bottle of vodka in the other.

“Ready to have some fun?” he calls out.

Shane jerks up his head at the sound of Brandon’s voice. He backs away from Tim as if I’ve caught him doing something illicit, and he makes a beeline for the pizza and vodka. Whatever conversation the two of them were having is apparently over.





Chapter 10


PRESENT DAY




I finish suturing up the rest of Shane’s laceration in silence. He doesn’t ask me any other questions, and I’m grateful. I should never have told him anything about my life. That was a mistake. It just threw me off to see him again. It’s like everything came rushing back. The good stuff over the course of our relationship, and then the bad stuff at the very end.

“All set.” I tie off the last suture and dab at his forehead to clean off the blood. “Good as new.”

“Yeah…”

“You need anything for pain?”

He makes a face. “No, thanks. If I ask for pain medication, I’m just going to get labeled as drug-seeking.”

He’s right. Every time an inmate asks for pain medication, alarm bells go off in the back of my head. After all, the last NP who worked here got busted for selling narcotics. Still, Shane has a significant laceration on his head that I stitched up with no anesthesia. It wouldn’t be terrible for him to ask for pain medication. But it’s his choice.

“Anyway,” I say, “I’ll get Officer Hunt to—”

“Wait!” Shane’s voice is hushed but urgent. “Wait, Brooke. Listen, I need to say something.”

My eyes fly in the direction of the door. Hunt is waiting on the other side, in case I need him. “Shane, I can’t—”