“Thanks, Ellie,” Sloansighed.
“And, Sloan?”
Sloan looked up one more time.
“Don’t break my brother’s heart,” Ellie said.“I will still fight you about him.” Ellie warned.
“I think I’m the one at risk for that. Make sure you tell him you’llbeat his ass if he hurts me,” Sloan scoffed.
“The threat has already been issued,” Ellie said softly with a wink. Ellie departed, and Sloan was compelled to continue. Through heavy, burning eyes, and with anxiety filling her to the brim, she dove back in.
Chapter 24
December 27th
Theletters sent her down a rabbit hole of research. The trial was public record, so she accessed everything. The crime scene photos, the statements that had been acquired by the police, even the witness transcripts for both attorneys. When she was younger, she had wanted Cassidy to be innocent. She had prayed every night for the jury to free him. As a grown woman, she realized that innocence was irrelevant. She wanted him to be justified. It took Sloan four days to read all the letters. She carried them everywhere with her. To work, to the grocery store, to the hair salon. It was all she could think of. She asked Ellie questions, but she quickly realized that Ellie didn’t have the answers herself. Ellie trusted her instincts and rode with Cassidy no matter what. The details were in these letters, and the only person who could complete the picture for her was Cassidy. She hadn’t heard from him, and she knew he was being respectful and giving her space, but it was time that she faced him. When she finished the final letter, she felt like shehad witnessed love in its purest form.
She had flipped through envelopes, drowning in a sea of handwritten emotion. Now that she was done, it felt odd. It felt incomplete, and she knew why. She had heard his mother’s reactions. She needed his transparency, his accountability. She picked up her phone. She knew it was rude to call him this late. She still dialed his number.
“Yeah.” His baritone bombarded her ear. She could tell he had been asleep. She was sure he hadn’t even looked at the phone before answering. She was silent, unsure of how or where to begin.
“Yo, who is this?” he asked. A beat of silence. She knew he checked the screen this time because her name followed.“Sloan?”
“I finished the letters.”
She heard motion. If he had been asleep before, he was wide awake now.
“You were defending your mom. She never said what he did. Please tell me your side,” she whispered.“I have to know the full story.”
It was his turn to be silent. She feared he would tell her no.
“I’m no longer judging. I just want to know you,” she pleaded.
“I took my mama to the grocery store every Saturday afternoon so she could get her groceries for Sunday dinner…”
Sloan sighed in relief as she settled in.
“I can remember what was on her menu like it was yesterday. Meatloaf, mashed potatoes and gravy, cabbage, and homemade sweet rolls. It was the last meal I ate before I got locked up.”
Sloan’s forehead bent in concern at the road he was going down. Mrs. Whitlock had been the cornerstone of their family. She had been so loved. Sloan had adored her, and she remembered those Sunday meals well. She was a guest at that table more times than she could count.
“I remember we went to the store. She always took E because she wanted her to know how to put a meal together. Said a little girl that didn’t know-”
“How to make groceries might as well be a little nappy-headed boy…”
Sloan finished his sentence with a soft laugh.“I remember.” They both fell silent as their memories of her manifested in their spirit. “What happened at the store that day, Cass? Her letters are full of sorrow about what occurred, but she never mentioned what happened,” Sloan said, urgently.“Her side is like one side of a puzzle. I need your side to complete the picture. Please, help me understand this.”
“I feel like I’m dishonoring her, Sloan. Telling you this goes against her wishes. She kept this secret her entire life. She was embarrassed by it, ashamed. She was afraid to speak life to it,” Cassidy said.“She trusted me with it.”
What a burden for a first-born son. Sloan’s empathy knew no bounds for this family. The Whitlocks, her second home, where her dearest friend lived, and her soulmate was torn from.
“I understand if it’s too much for you to say. I can tell it’s heavy on you. When you’re ready for help carrying it, know I’m here,” Sloan whispered.
She heard him sniff away emotions.
“Can I hit you back?”
He needed to get off the phone, and she understood.
