With pursed lips, the woman stared at her. “I like you, Joey. You’re a hometown hero. So I’ll give you until the end of the month before I start making calls to find a replacement room for your mother.” She pointed. “But thirty days from today. That’s all I can push it without losing my own job.”
With a nod, Joey escaped. She made it to her car before the dam burst and the tears flowed unchecked. She rested her forehead on the steering wheel and let the sobs come. Life was so unfair, and sometimes a good cleanse of the soul was the only answer.
What bothered her most was the decision she was being forced to make. Going on circuit with Percy Western was a horrible solution, but it was the only way she could come up with the quick high-dollar money she was going to need.
“You’re fucked up before, girl, but you’re about to take the cake now.”
She pulled out her cell and dialled Percy. He answered on the first ring.
“I knew you’d call.”
“Shut up. When do we leave?”
“Tomorrow, early afternoon. You’re in luck that we’re not leaving early as planned.”
“I’ll be there.”
He snickered. “Of course you will be.” He ended the call.
“I hate you,” she confessed to a dead line. “I hate you with every fibre of my being.” But he was the only option she had on such a short timeline.
More tears welled as she thought of Coy. She gripped the pendant that had hung around her neck for years that he had given her. She glanced upward. “I miss you, Dad. If you have any words of advice, other than don’t do it, I’d appreciate a little help.”
She twirled the pendant through her fingers; it didn’t help anything, but it made her feel better. She half expected to hear his voice. “Well, if you think of anything, you know where to find me.”
She started the car and pulled out. She had some packing to do.
Chapter Two: Damaged Goods
Drake Hale
Drake Hale yawned as he closed the journal he'd been reading. He glanced out the window of the barn office, not really surprised that it was dark. He'd been going through the box of his dad's belongings for the last several hours, and as always, he had no more answers now than he had before.
He stood and paced. Jeremiah Hale had been dead for almost all of Drake's life. Murdered when Drake was just a baby, stories about Jeremiah had floated around while growing up. He had discovered the box of belongings a year or so ago when building new shelves for his mom's closet. He hadn't told Vinia that he had snuck it out of her house, and thus far, she hadn't noticed.
"What happened to you, Dad?"
The answer always eluded him, no matter how many questions he asked of his siblings. Colton was the oldest and the only one of them who had clear memories of their patriarch. Tyson, Logan, and Sarah had fleeting remembrances, but Drake had nothing. The synopsis of the story was that Jeremiah had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he'd been blamed for something he didn't do. The entire family had been kicked out of their homeland because of the allegations.
The journals were more like diaries, with daily posts about things that had happened in everyday life. Jeremiah had fiercely loved his wife and family, and Drake took some comfort in that.
Ever since Logan had met Danielle, Drake's interest in their father had deepened. Danielle's boss was a see'er, a man who could detect their dragon shifting ability, and Drake knew he had seen the word in the journals.
One passage about a see'er loose in the Sacred Gardens. It had been one of the last things Jeremiah had written. And a mystery that Drake had every intention of solving.
He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't hear his mother come into the office until she set a tray down on the desk. The clinking of the dishes made him spin around.
Vinia stared at him and then surveyed the desk. "I wondered if you were still reading these."
Her comment surprised him. "You knew I had the box?"
"Of course, I did. Why do you think I wanted you to make my shelves? Tyson is much better at woodworking."
Drake snorted. "I can't argue with that."
"I brought you dinner. I figured you were up here doing the books or something when you didn't come to the house."
"Thanks," he responded as his stomach growled right on cue. "Why didn't you ever ask me about the box?"
