“Do you want to talk to a counselor?” Dr. Patel asks. “Or is there someone I can call for you?”
I shake my head. “No. Thank you, but…I’ll figure it out.”
She helps me clean up and hands me a packet of papers—prenatal vitamins, instructions for the next appointment, emergency numbers. I tuck the ultrasound photo into my purse, holding it like it’s made of glass.
I step out into the weak sunlight, my world turned upside down. I’m pregnant. Alone in a strange town, living out of a motel, surrounded by secrets and dangers and men I might never see free again.
The sun is barely up when I leave the clinic, the ultrasound picture safe in my bag. I keep touching it, as if it might disappear if I let it go. I pause on the sidewalk, breathing in the cool air, willing myself to believe I can handle whatever comes next.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I jump, nerves already shredded, but it’s only Mrs. Jackson’s name on the screen.
I answer, voice unsteady. “Hello?”
She sounds exhausted, older than usual. “Carrie, I’m feeling under the weather today. Won’t be coming in. Could you run things for me? Just keep the usual schedule, supervise the library, handle the book returns. I’ll check in if I can.”
I freeze for a second, caught between panic and a buzz of something else. I love my job, always have. Books understand me in a way no one has. “Me? All day?”
She coughs softly. “You’ll be fine. Everything’s on the clipboard, just keep the stacks tidy and don’t let the boys give you grief. I’ll call in later to check. Lock up the returns if you leave early.”
“Of course, Mrs. Jackson. I hope you feel better.”
She sighs. “Thank you, dear. You’ll do fine.” She hangs up without another word.
I stand there on the sidewalk, the world suddenly tilting. Me, in charge.
I’m not ready for this. Not today, not after everything. But maybe I am. Maybe I have to be.
At least, I tell myself, it means one less secret to worry about. I slip my hand into my pocket, feeling for the cold, heavy key to the infirmary. Without Mrs. Jackson around, I can slip it back onto her desk, cover my tracks before she ever realizes it’s missing.
Small victories, I remind myself. I need every one I can get.
I walk to the prison with a little more purpose than usual, shoulders squared, pretending confidence I don’t feel.
I’m sittingat Mrs. Jackson’s desk, pretending to organize the return slips, but my heart isn’t in it. Every little noise in the library makes me jump. I keep glancing at the clock, counting the minutes until shift change. I try to look busy, to look in control, but all I feel is the panic simmering just beneath my skin.
A shadow falls across the counter. I look up and see one of the grouchier inmates—Taylor, I think, gray hair greasy under a knit cap, eyes like stones. He leans in close, his breath sour.
“Where’s the old lady?” he grumbles, voice rough and too loud for the quiet room.
I blink, suddenly all too aware of the empty library and the fact that no guards are anywhere in sight. My mind goes blank. I fumble for words, feeling the weight of his stare. “She—Mrs. Jackson—she’s out sick today. I’m just, uh…filling in.”
Taylor’s mouth twists, eyes narrowing. “So they leave you in charge?” He snorts. “That’s rich.”
My throat tightens. I’m painfully aware of how small I must look behind the desk, how alone. “If you need something, I can—” I try to keep my voice steady, but it comes out thin and uncertain.
“She took my magazine, I need it back,” he says.
“Um, she didn’t tell me anything about that,” I try.
He narrows his eyes. “It was personal property and she took it from me. Give it back.”
I swallow and look around. No guards. Great, just my luck. Things could go very, very wrong if I’m not careful. “Listen, I can get it back for you if you come back tomorrow.”
“That’s not what I asked.” He leans closer, lowering his voice, menace threading through every word. “You better hope nothing goes missing on your watch, sweetheart.”
I swallow hard, my hands gripping the edge of the desk. The urge to run is almost overwhelming. I open my mouth, desperate for anything to make him go away, but I can’t seem to find the words.
Suddenly a shadow moves in the corner of my vision. Jace appears, calm and solid, his eyes cold as steel as he steps between us. “Back off, Taylor. Take your attitude somewhere else.”
