She bent, picking up a piece of gravel and rolling it around between her fingers. “She was supposed to have twelve years. It’s only been half that.”

I bit back a curse. Our justice system was beyond broken. The people who deserved the harshest sentences often got a break, and those who deserved a second chance often paid for way longer than they should. “Can you fight it?”

“It’s too late.”

“I’m sorry. Do the kids know?”

She shook her head. “I just found out this morning while they were at school. I have to tell Will soon. I’m not sure about the girls.”

It made sense. Will was more adult than teen, but Ava and Mia still had that innocence to them. “You’ll know when the time is right to tell them.”

Caelyn tossed the stone into the air, catching it in her palm. “I hope so.”

We were silent for a long moment before I spoke. “The reporter I punched… It was a long time ago. He’d broken into my apartment and—”

Caelyn reached over, her palm coming to rest on my forearm. “You don’t owe me any explanations. You’ve shown me time and again how good your soul is.”

Her touch, her words, they seeped into my bones. The warmth of them was so hot it burned. And I never wanted to forget the feeling.

12

Caelyn

I hummed to myself as I wiped down counters after the lunch rush, paying careful attention to each nook and cranny. There was something cathartic about cleaning. It was one of the few things where you could see your progress in black and white.

I wondered if Griffin felt the same about his house. I loved seeing the concrete changes each time I visited. And it seemed like progress was happening a little faster now that Will was helping out.

My chest warmed as memories of yesterday filtered through my mind. It was the first time Griffin had truly let me in. I knew it was scary for him, terrifying, but he’d done it anyway. And sitting on the stone steps, I suddenly hadn’t felt so alone.

It was a hard thing to describe, to even truly wrap my head around, but I’d felt alone since I’d taken custody of the kids. Yes, I had Bell and Kenna, Callie and the Alliance, Harriet before she passed, but the real weight of it rested on my shoulders. And as much as those amazing women in my life loved and supported me, they couldn’t understand what it felt like to have everyone on the island whispering about you, knowing that your parents had brought drugs into the community, into a home with children. They couldn’t understand how terrifying it was to know that the well-being of the siblings you loved more than life was up to you and you alone.