Chapter 39
Josephine
“You want us to go in with you?” Kendrick asks, navigating the Suburban along the gravel driveway, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
I know what he’s looking for. Or rather, who.
While Kendrick is desperate not to have a run-in with Scout, the junkyard armadillo who roams around my uncle’s home and place of business, I’m eager to put eyes on her for the first time in weeks.
Or maybe I’m hoping for a distraction from the overdue conversation about to take place.
It’s time to put my tail between my legs and apologize to my uncle for disappearing on him.
Though initially, it was against my will—not that I’ll fill him in on that tidbit of information—staying gone for so long without checking in was my choice.
“I say we all go in.” Kylian reaches back from the front seat and squeezes my hand. “But we need to get our stories straight before we head inside.”
“Hmm. So you don’t want me to explain to my uncle how you removed me from my bed in his home and forced me to live in the mansion?” I muse, leaning forward so I can kiss Kylian on the shoulder.
Kendrick made Kylian deep clean the Suburban last night after it was abundantly clear what we’d gotten up to in the back seat.
He shrugged like it was no big deal, then admitted to me this morning that he would have cleaned it out anyway. He hates tracking sand onto the boats or into the house.
“I don’t want your uncle to suspect that I’m the reason he’s been on a wild goose chase throughout Georgia and the Carolinas for the last month,” Kylian clarifies.
“Wait. What?”
Kendrick scoffs as he puts the Suburban in park outside the door to my uncle’s office.
“How do you think we got rid of him in the first place, Jo? I set up a series of fake accounts and buy-sell-trade listings for early ’90s Honda Preludes with no rust and low miles.
Sam’s been after one for years. Over the last month, he’s been going after one listing after another, but each time he arrived at the location, the car had just sold or was mysteriously no longer available. ”
“That’s—” I snap my mouth shut. I’m suspended somewhere between being impressed and being wildly irritated by the way Kylian can seemingly manipulate any situation.
“Heads up. We’re being watched,” Kendrick murmurs, nodding at the back entrance that leads into the residence side of the building.
Sam is standing in the doorway, arms crossed, peering through the screen door.
“I agree with Boy Genius,” he adds. “We go in together, and we leave together. We’ll follow your lead, Jojo.”
Theoretically, it’s a sound plan. But I have no experience being the leader of the group. Or any group, for that matter.
Climbing out of the car, I smile at my uncle, but I hold back, waiting for Kylian and Kendrick to join me so we can present a united front.
A couple of spots over from the Suburban is my beloved Civic, Honey—the car Sam gifted me when I arrived in Lake Chapel.
The guys all agreed when I insisted I drive her to the marina today.
Decker winced when I brought it up, but I let it slide.
He’s concerned about my safety first and foremost. It’s not about controlling me anymore. At least most of the time.
Having access to her whenever I want is another step in solidifying the autonomy I’ve worked so damn hard to secure, and none of the guys, Decker included, want to infringe on that.
My uncle watches us approach, his gaze fixed on me for the most part, though he flicks a few skeptical glances toward the boys.
“Jojo,” he greets when we’re close enough to speak. “It’s good to see you.”
“Hey, Sam. Can we come in?”
Nodding, he holds open the door, though his expression turns surly when the boys get close.
Kylian breezes right past him without a word, but Kendrick stops to introduce himself.
“Kendrick Taylor, Sir,” he offers, extending a hand. “I’m a friend of Josephine’s.”
My pulse races. I don’t have the slightest clue about how my uncle will respond, but I don’t dare look back at the exchange.
Kylian’s already halfway down the hall, heading toward the office area at the front, but I’m still sorting through my thoughts, moving much more slowly. Shuffling along the worn carpet, I peek into my old bedroom as I pass, then stop in my tracks when I see that it’s exactly how I left it.
“Wasn’t sure when you’d be back,” Sam murmurs close behind me.
I jump, startled by his proximity, and bring a hand to my chest.
“I kept it just as you left it.” Squeezing my shoulder, he slides past me. “Just in case.”
My heart catches in my throat.
Sam gave up his bedroom when I moved in. He’s been sleeping in the living room/kitchen ever since, even though I’ve been gone.
I don’t have time to apologize or explain my absence, though, because as soon as we step into the office area, Jeannie is out of her seat.
“Sugar! I thought you’d gone and disappeared on us! Where the hell have you been?”
The middle-aged woman rushes me. The scent of her soapy perfume, followed by the distinct whiff of stale cigarette smoke, engulfs me when she pulls me in for a hug.
She holds on for too long, and even when she lets me go, she grasps my shoulders and keeps me close.
In my periphery, Kylian slides closer, hovering, no doubt in tune with my discomfort. Jeannie isn’t a threat, but she’s a lot. I haven’t spent more than a couple of hours with her since I met her, but that fact was obvious the moment we were introduced.
Wearing a conspiratorial grin, she squeezes my upper arms. She’s practically vibrating she’s so giddy. “I saw the picture in today’s paper, Sugar. I knew. I just knew! I already clipped it and showed it to Sam.”
“Picture?” I balk, looking from her to Kylian, then past him to Kendrick.
K shakes his head. He’s in the dark, too. Kylian whips out his phone and taps away. Looks like he doesn’t know what she’s talking about , either.
“I haven’t seen any picture,” I hedge as a bead of sweat tracks down my spine.
“Leave the girl alone, Jeannie,” Sam chides. He strolls into the office, plants his hands on his hips, and looks from me to the boys and back again. “Can I get y’all anything to drink?”
Both Kendrick and Kylian decline, but I request a water, so Sam heads back toward the kitchen to retrieve it.
Jeannie releases me so quickly I stumble, then she turns on her heel before rushing back to her desk.
Closing my eyes, I let out a long breath, only to pull another in quickly at the warm touch on my hip. Kylian is beside me now, steadying me. He drums his fingertips against my low back in a soothing rhythm while he inspects the screen of his device.
A quick squeeze is my first warning. “You’re not named,” he murmurs, inclining his head to signal Kendrick to join us.
Once Kendrick’s at my side, Kylian turns his phone so we can both see the image he’s pulled up.
It’s a black and white picture: the front page of a newspaper, it seems.
It’s clearly me. In Decker’s arms. On the field after they won Saturday’s game.
My stomach sinks, and a million questions swirl in my mind as I take in every detail of the photo.
Snatching the phone from Kylian, I zoom in. The grainy picture blurs even more, so I squint as I absorb every detail. Frantically, I zoom out again and read the headline: LCU Crusaders Sink the SCU Sharks.
I’m fixated on the screen as I’m engulfed in another hug. Unlike Jeannie’s, this one is warm and welcome, comforting and all kinds of right.
Tension leaches out of me as Kendrick holds me. His lips find the pulse point below my ear, then he whispers, “Breathe, Mama. You’re okay.”
He’s right.
I am here. This is now.
I’m not pleased, but I’m okay.
“This photo wasn’t featured in any of the online coverage,” Kylian explains, extracting his phone from my vise-like grip.
“That’s why this is the first time we’re seeing it.
But the caption only names Decker, and we can only see your profile.
None of the keyword alerts I have set up for you pinged any results because of this. ”
I nod, tamping down the anxiety clawing up my chest by focusing on my breathing. My lungs expands with each inhalation. Kendrick’s breathing along with me, helping to ensure panic doesn’t take over.
After a handful of deep, steady breaths, my anxiety wanes.
But then Jeannie speaks, and a shot of disquiet courses through me again.
“Well, what do we have here?” She struts past us toward the couch in the waiting area of the office, waggling her fingers at K and me.
“You’re full of surprises, Sugar. I was sure you were with the Crusade boy. This is you in the picture, isn’t it?”
She holds out a newspaper clipping almost the size of the entire front page. The photo itself takes up most of the space above the fold now that I see it in print.
The unease slithering through my veins makes me squirm, but Kendrick tightens his hold.
“Dammit, Jeannie,” Sam says, returning with a water bottle in hand. “I said leave the girl alone, and I meant it. We just got her back.”
Blinking rapidly and with a deep crease between her furrowed brows, Jeannie looks at Sam, her mouth opening, then snapping shut when she takes in his expression. Grumbling under her breath, she rises to her feet and scurries back to her desk across the room.
Shame trickles through me, now for an entirely different reason.
I’m not back. At least not for long.
“Sam, can we talk?”
I peel K’s hands off me, and this time, he relents. Turning, I nod, and Kendrick takes the hint for what it is.
“Come on, Boy Genius. Let’s take a walk,” he mutters, cuffing Kylian on the neck. Kylian kisses my cheek—a move I’m sure Jeannie notices—then lets K lead him back down the narrow hallway.
Sam holds out the water bottle, watching warily as I accept it, then take a seat on the worn vinyl couch Jeannie occupied for a whole thirty seconds.
He sits on the armrest, perched above me, eyes darting over to his receptionist.