Page 67 of Romeo

There were gaps, though.

A hell of a lot of them.

Me: You do.

Ma Belle: I know. I just hate that every form makes me explain where I came from before anyone cares who I am.

That landed somewhere ugly. There were probably perfectly legitimate reasons for the counselor’s questions. At that moment, I didn’t give a shit about any of them.

Me: Paperwork doesn’t get to decide who you are.

Ma Belle: It decides a lot.

Me: Not the important things.

Ma Belle: You make everything sound simple.

Me: It isn’t simple. You’re just worth fighting through the complicated parts.

Her answer took a moment.

Ma Belle: That was almost sweet

Me: Almost?

Ma Belle: Don’t ruin it

I smiled, but when I looked back at her earlier message, the smile didn’t last.

I got up, grabbed my keys, and headed outside. By the time I reached my truck, I already had Sugar’s number pulled up.

She answered on the third ring.

“I need the name of Fiona’s guidance counselor,” I said.

Silence.

Then, she asked, “Why?”

“Because I’m going to make her understand what it feels like to be interrogated about the worst parts of her life,” I said, gripping the phone tighter. “I’m going to make her understand that she doesn’t get to treat Fiona like a problem to be solved, like some case file to be processed. I’m going to⁠—”

“Romeo, stop.” Sugar’s voice sliced through mine. “Listen to yourself. You’re talking about threatening a guidance counselor at a high school. You’re talking about showing up and making a scene that’ll embarrass Fiona and prove to everyone, including her, that you are exactly what everyone has thought our whole lives—an unhinged, Cajun asshole.”

I leaned back against the seat and closed my eyes. “She made Fiona explain her past. Made her justify having a stable home. Made her feel like she has to prove she’s worth⁠—”

“I know,” Sugar interrupted, softer now. “She texted me about it during lunch. And I know it makes you want to burn the world down. But, Romeo, you need to step back. You need to breathe. You need to think about what Fiona needs instead of what your rage demands.”

I stared through the windshield.

That was significantly less satisfying than threatening someone.

Unfortunately, Sugar had a point.

“I need you to tell me about Fiona’s past,” I said. “I need to understand what she’s been through so I can⁠—”

“No.”

“Sugar…”