CATRIONA
According to my father, the inspiration behind my desire to become a lawyer has everything to do with his political career. There are countless interviews with the media where he crows about how proud he is that I want to follow in his footsteps. It never ceases to amaze me how easily his constituents eat up his every word.
Yasmine opens the door to her family’s home a couple of days after the disastrous meeting between O’Connor and my father with an expression of bored amusement on her face. “Well, well, so you do remember where I live. I was beginning to wonder, since it appears your phone is broken.”
I make a face. “I know, I’m sorry.”
She doesn’t move to let me in. Usually, I wouldn’t even knock, but I knew my lack of response to her repeated texts and calls would annoy her.
Crossing her arms over her chest, she says, “So what happened?” At my blank look, she rolls her eyes. “It’s somethingwith your father, right? You always go radio silent when he’s a complete asshole.”
I look away, sighing heavily, and she gasps.
Fuck. Unfortunately, the bruise from my father still shows in the afternoon sun, no matter how much makeup I cake over it. It’s faded a bit, but obviously, it’s still visible at the right angle.
“Reggie!” she shouts over her shoulder.
I choke on saliva. “Yas, don’t.”
“Reggie, get your ass out here. Bring your keys,” she says, ignoring me. Her jaw works as she clenches it over and over. Maybe I shouldn’t have come here after all, but I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go.
Yasmine is a mix of the most important people in her life, and I love each of her facets. The stoicism that’s going to make her a fantastic doctor she got from her father. Her sense of justice is a thousand percent her mother. But the calculating fury? That’s pure Nana Estelle. That woman is sweet as honey with a tongue that’ll sting like a bee.
Remembering this, I hold up my hands to placate her. “I’m serious. It’s nothing. Let me explain.”
“Does the explanation involve anything other than your father putting his hands on you?” she asks quietly. The heavy footsteps of her older brother, Reggie, sound behind her as he comes down from the second floor.
Reggie is in his thirties, and he has always treated us like his annoying little sisters. It made me feel like family, even if he spent most of the time when I was around doing his level best to ignore me or piss me off.
He is, however, now a detective with the New Orleans Police Department. According to him, he works to put criminals behind bars, his mother tries to free them, and his sister wants to fix their injuries. I look up to him. How steady he is with Yasmine.Once upon a time, I tried, and probably failed, to imitate the same with Elizabeth.
“Yas, c’mon. Don’t bring Reggie into this. He’s going to make it a big thing, and there’s other?—”
But Reggie appears behind her, dressed in slacks and a white button-down shirt with his gun in a shoulder holster, before I convince her to keep her mouth shut.
Panic skitters up my spine in a hot rush. I really don’t have time for this. Elizabeth will only be out of the house with the wedding planner for a couple of hours at most to try on dresses. Father is also out on other obligations. Neither of them has let me out of their sights this week. Probably certain I’ll be up to no good… And what can I say? They’d be right.
“Ri,” Reggie says with an easy smile. “Long time no see. What did I tell you, Yas? She’s perfectly fine. Everything is—” Then his attention snags on my cheek, and his smile falls.
“You still think she’s perfectly fine, asshole?”
“What thefuckis that?” he asks, already shrugging into his jacket with his keys dangling from his hand.
“Look, can we talk about this inside? I don’t have a lot of time.”
Yasmine pulls me inside with a huff and then grabs my chin so she can look at the bruise more closely. “I could kill him. Mom would get me off, no problem. Temporary insanity. No jury would convict me.”
“Hold on there, tiger,” Reggie says, resting a hand on Yasmine’s arm. “Are you okay, Ri? Was this your father?” he asks, his voice laced with the hint of a Cajun accent that’s always made me feel safe. It reminds me so much of his father’s.
I take a moment to gather my thoughts. As much as I want to throw Father under the bus, it’s not my priority. “Yes, it was, but I have worse problems.”
Yasmine cocks her head to the side. “Worse problems than your father putting his hands on you?”
“Yes. Shit is seriously hitting the fan, and I need your help.” To say the very least. When Yasmine doesn’t interrupt or immediately call in for more reinforcements (read: her parents and Nana Estelle), I give them a quick rundown of the absurdity from the past few days. It sounds even worse when I say it out loud, but the relief of having someone else know what’s going on eases the weight off my shoulders. I still don’t tell them about what I saw O’Connor do the night before Halloween. They’re already freaking out about my father. If I told them I was going to force a psychopath to marry me, they’d probably have me committed.
“I’m going to kill him,” Yasmine says.
“Hey!” Reggie interjects.
