“Once a convict, always a convict. She deserves better.”
I shook my head. No point in trying to convince him of the truth. “I was a kid.”
“That doesn’t matter. Prison is pointless. We lock ‘em up, let ‘em go, and lock ‘em up again.” He took a step closer, backing me into the wall. He lowered his voice this time in an attempt to intimidate me. “Not to mention a decade in prison means baggage, psychological issues, and a world of learned violence.”
My veins were tingling as adrenaline rushed through my body. The urge to defend myself was becoming impossible to ignore. I felt my own fists clenching. It didn’t escape the keen cop’s notice.
“You want to hit me?”
“I only have the best of intentions for Jules.” I forced my hands to relax by my sides. “She cares about me, too.”
He smirked, shaking his head. “You don’t know Jules. Just because she let you in her bed doesn’t mean she cares about you.”
Last straw. My fists came up to the collar of his t-shirt, and I whipped his back against the wall. He smiled, enjoying the rise out of me. This situation wasn’t fair. He knew he could punch me and I couldn’t do a dang thing, but if I threw one at him, it might mean more jail time.
“I’ve never been anything but a gentleman.” My voice trembled as anger surged through my body. “She doesn’t need you making decisions for her.”
“She does. Hasn’t been thinking straight for years. She’s confused.”
This time I laughed. Couldn’t resist saying it. Probably shouldn’t have. “Didn’t seem too confused when we were making out last night.”
Our close proximity was a mistake on my part. My vision was obscured by my own fists holding Jack to the wall. He swung his arm out to the side and smashed me. Right in the solar plexus, folding me in half like a rag doll. I staggered back and hit the concrete floor, gasping for breath.
He stood over me as a moan escaped my lungs, and my diaphragm spasmed. The next breath wouldn’t come. He dangled the takeout bag over my head. “Don’t worry about her breakfast. Beat you to the punch.” He winked.
The apartment door slammed behind him. Even as I lay there, wheezing like an asthmatic grandpa, I smiled. Sure, I took a punch, but I did stand up to the jerk.
Worth it. 100%.
THIRTY-FOUR
Julia
“Sis.” A hand cupped my shoulder and shook me. “Sis, wake up. Brought you some breakfast.”
I peeked open my eyes at the sound of Jack’s voice. What was he doing here? Why was he in my room? Oh wait, I was in the living room. Still in my blue dress. The night before flooded into my memory right before the wave of disappointment hit. I didn’t even hear Pat leave.
I jumped up from the couch, still squinting from the light. “Jack, what are you doing here?”
He was making coffee in the Keurig. “Brought you a biscuit.”
“Oh,” I said. “That was nice.”
“I figured you probably had a rough night.” He looked me up and down. “Didn’t even change.”
Trying to smooth the hopelessly wrinkled dress was pointless. “Yeah, guess not.” My eyes landed on my yellow pad of paper, pushed onto the edge of the counter top. Pat’s handwriting.
Oh no. Not while Jack is here.
I needed him to leave before Pat came back. “I—I actually have to run this morning. Appreciate you bringing breakfast though.”
“No, you don’t.”
“What?” I tried to pretend I didn’t know what he was talking about.
Jack’s training only magnified the detective-like observance he was born with. And we were twins. Nothing, and I truly meannothing, escaped his notice.
His eyes fell to the paper. “You want me to leave before Patrick comes back.”
