Page 77 of Justice

“Goodbye, Kira.”

I hung up on her mid-sentence and set the phone face down on the desk.

I stood in that study a long while with my hands flat on the wood, breathing, trying to walk the cold back down to where I keep it.

It would not go.

My daughter had lied to my face. And Kira was complicit. There was a grown man out there breathing my air who had put his intentions in writing about my fifteen-year-old and still had all his teeth, which was a temporary condition. And I had just cut their godmother out of my children’s lives without a flicker of regret.

That last part was the one that stayed with me. Not that I did it. That I felt nothing doing it.

Maybe that was the exact thing I’d sat in a cell all night afraid I’d handed down to my girl.

I looked out the study window at all that land I’d bought to keep my family safe on.

I had never in my life felt less able to keep a single one of them safe.

39

SKYE

“Do you need anything else?” I asked Rita as I stood in her doorway.

The day escaped into night. When we got back with the groceries, Storie was locked up in her room. Dream was in the TV room with snacks and coloring books, enough to keep her busy and distracted.

And the three brothers were huddled in the study, discussing what went down. I knew by how hushed they spoke that they were planning something crazy. Rita had confirmed their nature to me through the various talks we had.

“I just need to lie down. Oh and I’m gonna lock my door from the inside. I don’t trust that little girl. And I might have to beat her to death with my cane,” she let out a nervous laugh.

“I hear you. Get some rest,” I said, before leaving her.

I found him in the kitchen a little past midnight, standing at the island in a plain white tee and gray sweats, a glass of that dark amber Banks Reserve sitting untouched in front of him like he’d poured it just to have something to look at.

He didn’t hear me come in. Or he did and just didn’t turn around right away.

“Couldn’t sleep either,” I said, because the silence in that kitchen felt like it needed something dropped into it.

“Not really.” He lifted the glass, took a slow sip, set it back down exact on the same ring of condensation it had left the first time. “Been sitting with a lot tonight.”

I crossed to the island and stood across from him, close enough to smell the liquor. He’d showered since being home from jail, and the scent of his cologne was intoxicating. It beckoned me closer to him.

“His name’s Tron,” Justice said, flat, like he was testing how the word sat in his mouth. “That nigga that she was with. Tron Blakely. I did a little digging and found out he stays in Suitland and works at T-Mobile. They met online. Oh, and he knew, Skye. Wasn’t no confusion about her age.”

I didn’t say anything. There wasn’t a version of comfort that fit into that sentence.

“I need to say something to you.” He finally looked up, and his eyes had that stillness in them that I’d learned meant he was choosing every word before it left him. “You didn’t have to call me. Coulda minded your business, coulda let that whole thing play out and never said a word. But you saw my daughter with a grown man and you called me before you even finished walking away. That means a lot to me. I appreciate it. That’s the kind of thing that tells a man exactly who he can trust in his own house. You care about my family beyond just a paycheck.”

I did care. I cared about all of them. Something twisted low in my stomach, sharp enough that I had to look down at the counter instead of at him.

He trusted me and he shouldn’t have.

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” I said. “It’s just decency, Justice. Anybody would’ve called.”

“That’s not true. She’s not even your responsibility.”

I came around the island before I could talk myself out of it, needing my hands on him more than I needed to keep arguing the point. He was sitting tense on that stool, shoulders up near his ears, a knot of muscle I could see just from looking at the set of him.

“Turn around,” I said.