I should’ve felt relieved. Knowledge was power, and if my sister could find this much, what could a motivated legal team get their hands on?

30

ANNA

I rifled through cabinets, banging pots and pans as I went. It wasn’t fair to the dishes, but I had to take my frustration out somewhere. And going for an hours-long walk in the woods the way I had when I’d first come to Sutter Lake wasn’t an option.

My gaze caught on Justin and Lyla as I straightened. They laughed as they kicked the soccer ball back and forth. I should be happy. Relieved. I had what I wanted most—Justin and Lyla safe. And with any luck, the judge would rule in our favor soon.

The social worker had recommended that the kids stay where they were. Justin and Lyla had braved speaking with the judge and had told him that they wanted to live with Mason and me. Derek hadn’t testified yet, but Keisha had assured me that the judge wouldn’t put much stock in whatever he had to say.

Instead of resting in the building hope of my niece and nephew being happy, I was angry. With Mason, but more with myself. It had been six hours, and he’d never returned my call.

I was angry because it hurt. Because I let myself reach a hand out for support, and he was nowhere to be found. The mix of pain and anger bubbling inside me was why I hadn’t wanted to do this with Mason in the first place. When you opened yourself up, when you counted on someone besides yourself, you could get dropped—and the crash could leave you broken.

The oven beeped, and I pulled the chicken I’d been marinating all day out of the fridge. When I’d thrown everything together this morning, I’d done it with Mason in mind. Knowing he’d like the salty-sweet combination of the honey mustard glaze. Now, the fact that I’d made the dish simply pissed me off.

I shoved it into the oven with a little more force than necessary. Maybe Mason wouldn’t even come home tonight and wouldn’t get my damn chicken. I took the pot off the counter, filling it with rice and water and setting it on the stove.

Just as it came to a boil, I heard the garage door open. I stiffened but forced myself to keep moving, turning the heat down and covering the rice to steam. I moved to the island where I had an array of veggies to chop for a salad.

The door opened, but I remained focused on my task. Mason’s shoes sounded on the hardwood floor. “Hey,” he greeted.

“Hey.” I didn’t look up.

“Oh, shit. I completely forgot to call you back.”

“No problem.” I diced a carrot into tiny pieces and dumped it onto the bed of mixed greens.