I rubbed my shoulder, exhaustion seeping into my bones.
“How are you feeling?”
Like I’ve been hit by a truck, then backed over for good measure. I took a shaky breath, watching the world blur past. Normal people, living normal lives.
“It’s like I’ve experienced every possible emotion in the span of hours. Shock when the judge announced bail was even an option. Pure elation at the thought of sleeping in a real bed tonight instead of …” I shuddered. “Instead of that place.”
Ryker’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel.Interesting. Mr. Cool and Collected had feelings about my jail experience.
“But then I heard the number. Ten million.” The words tasted bitter. “Might as well have been ten billion. I thought I was heading right back to that cell.”
“High-profile murder charge gets a high-profile bail amount.”
“I got lucky.” Guilt crashed over me in waves. “What are the oddsthat my brother happens to be wealthy enough to post that kind of money? Winning the genetic lottery while simultaneously hitting rock bottom. It doesn’t feel fair. How many people are sitting in jail right now because they don’t have someone like Blake?”
Ryker glanced at me, eyebrow raised. “Are you seriously having a crisis of conscience about other murder suspects?”
Despite everything, I almost laughed. “Maybe I am.”
“Faith Morrison, bleeding heart for alleged killers everywhere.” His voice carried something warmer now. Affection.
“I’m just reflecting. On a lot of things.”
“Such as?”
The city rushed past us. People walking dogs. Couples holding hands. Life continuing while mine had screeched to a halt.
“As grateful as I am to be breathing free air right now, I feel like I’ve woken up into a nightmare.” My voice cracked. “I might not be in a cell today, but realistically, I’ll probably spend the rest of my life behind bars.”
He smirked. “Your confidence in my defense skills is approaching an offensive level.”
“Ryker, I was covered in blood, holding the murder weapon. Unless a serial killer owl has been secretly slaughtering men, I’m facing serious prison time.”
I caught his sharp look.
“Sorry,” I said. “Dark humor is apparently my default setting now. Along with existential dread and an unhealthy obsession with freedom.”
“Don’t apologize,” he said. “I’d be concerned if you weren’t cracking jokes right now.”
Somehow, that made me feel a little bit better.
“It’s like my whole life has been one cruel setup,” I continued. “I’ve spent years fighting against every unfair thing thrown at me, refusing to let it drag me under. And I was proud of that. Stupidly, arrogantly proud. But maybe it was just chasing me thiswhole time, waiting for the perfect moment to finally destroy me.”
God, I sounded like a pity party. I hated feeling sorry for myself. It was self-centered and unproductive. Which was why I never allowed myself to do it.
At a red light, Ryker shifted in his seat and studied my face with those intense lawyer eyes. He didn’t rush to reassure me or dismiss my fears. He just listened.
When was the last time someone had really listened?
“And I’m scared,” I whispered. “There are people who depend on me.”
A crease formed between his dark brows, but he didn’t pry. Didn’t ask who I meant. Points for restraint. Because how could I explain the kids who aged out of foster care with nowhere to go? The broken souls I’d been trying to save, one at a time. They weren’t just people. They were family. My responsibility. My purpose.
How had I failed them so completely?
“But underneath all of that, I feel ashamed.” The admission burned my throat. “The evidence is clear. I took another human life.”
“Faith …”
