I stand on shaky legs and stumble backward. Jaxon's there within seconds to catch me, steady arms banded around me.
"What did you say to her?" he growls at Clio.
Clio stares at us both, shock written on her face.
“Sh-she. I-I. He's not dead. I didn't kill him, Jax.” I burrow into him as violent sobs rack my body.
He holds me tight, stroking soothing patterns along my back. "Explain."
“Rodney. Our stepdad. She didn't kill him," Clio says. "He died in prison two days ago.”
“Fuck.” He roughly sweeps the hair away from my face. “Bluebird, look at me. I need you to breathe for me, baby.”
My thoughts travel back to that night: his body splayed out across the kitchen floor with blood pooling all around it. Were his eyes open or closed?
I used to have nightmares about it. He’d blink those furious eyes open and come after me. Eventually, little details started to blur and change with each reminder.
Jaxon’s voice wrenches me out of the memory, and his steady arms cradle me to his chest as he rocks us back and forth like I’m a child in need of comfort—something I only ever experienced from the panicked woman standing several feet away.
Jaxon’s lips press against my temple. “That’s it. In through your nose and out through your mouth.”
I reach out a weak hand and place it on his jaw. “I’m ok. You can let go now.”
He shakes his head. “I need a minute.”
I rest my head against his chest and listen to the erratic rhythm of his heart. “I’m ok. I promise.”
“You scared the shit out of me,” he mutters. “I thought you were going to pass out.”
“You caught me.”
“As long as I’m around, I’ll always catch you.”
Good, because I think I’ve already fallen heart-first.
Jaxon sets me back on my feet, and we walk hand in hand back to the table. He takes the spot next to me and glances across at my sister.
“I’m staying,” he says, his tone brooking no argument.
She nods and reaches for me. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have sprung it on you like that.”
“It’s ok,” I say. “You couldn’t have known what would happen.”
“Have you been back to New Jersey? Is Mom still alive?”
She rubs a hand down her arm. “She died about six years ago now. Some lawyers contacted me about her will. They tried to get in touch with you, but nobody could find you.”
Makes sense. I would’ve been living on the streets or in one of the shelters back then.
“How did she die? Was it Rodney?”
“In a way, I’m sure he contributed, but it was cancer in the end. She left him, Callie. Not long after you ran away, from what I can tell. Rodney found some other family to torment, and it landed him in prison. Mom tried to get right with god, or so she said.”
I scoff. Whatever god she was praying to, I hope he didn’t grant her any mercy for what she forced us to endure. She deserves to rot in hell. Her one job as a mother was to protect us, and she failed spectacularly.
“You spoke to her?”
“No.” Clio reaches into her purse with shaky hands and slides a sealed envelope across the table. “She left this.”
