Chapter Three
Inna Grace
This wasn’t how I imagined it. Stealing money was one thing. Walking through the night with a briefcase heavy enough to pull at my shoulder was another. And yet I kept heading home. My grip tightened around the handle as I walked, each step carrying me further from fixing what I had just done.
I should have been on my way back to Mr. Torres’s restaurant to admit what I’d done and hand over the briefcase before it turned into something worse. Instead, I was already near Amelia’s gate. I stopped, my mind running through everything that could go wrong.
The briefcase was heavy for a reason. It was packed with cash, the kind that only belonged to someone powerful enough to come looking for it. And if they came looking for it, they would come for my brother and me too.
Did Mr. Torres’ twin steal a kidney or something? This wasn’t a one-time payment. He has been paying it every month. No wonder we got fired. If the restaurant was bleeding money like this, it meant Mr. Torres wasn’t keeping anything for himself.
The anger from being fired had worn down into something closer to understanding. Mr. Torres didn’t have a choice. He was just trying to survive. Fuck his brother and the nerve he had.
A low sound made me freeze, every nerve in my body lighting up at once.
I glanced down the street, where the pavement stretched dark and slick under the streetlights.
The air was still heavy from the rain that had just passed.
That was it. I needed to take the briefcase back and wipe my hands clean. Death felt safer than keeping it.
The sound came again, and I turned toward Amelia’s house. I stepped closer, peeking through the wooden gate, and my stomach dropped.
Amelia’s dog stood by the door, tail flicking as it nudged my brother. Cole was curled up on the doormat, a backpack beside him. A suitcase sat nearby, its zipper ripped open, flopped back as if someone had tossed it in frustration.
Panic hit all at once. I shoved the gate open and sprinted inside.
“Cole?” My voice cracked as I dodged discarded clothes, stepping closer. “Cole.”
I dropped to my knees beside him, the briefcase clattering to the floor. My hands found him, and he gasped, fists shooting up on instinct. When he realized it was me, they fell away, trembling.
“Inna.”
“What happened?” I brushed his hair back, fingers trembling despite myself. “Why are you sleeping outside?”
He blinked the sleep away, rubbing his hands for warmth. “Karen came,” he mumbled. “I shouldn’t have used her mother’s phone. It was my fault.”
My gaze swept over our clothes dumped on the ground. Following the trail back to Cole, I realized he had been freezing alone here since he got kicked out. Heat flared in my chest, and I swallowed it. My hands moved over his arms and shoulders.
“Did you bring food?” he asked, giving me that easy, stubborn grin that didn’t disappear, no matter what the night had thrown at him.
My gaze dropped from his face. He was hungry and freezing. He was alone while I was standing on a rooftop, thinking about dying. If I never came back, he would have wandered until morning, shrinking into corners with an empty stomach and nowhere to go.
I swallowed. “Cole—” The word died when I saw the dark mark on his wrist. I pulled his hand closer. It was an ugly, unmistakable bruise. Whatever restraint I’d been holding onto snapped. I rolled his sleeve up. Someone had gripped him hard. The finger imprints were clear.
Throwing him out was one thing. Hurting him was an absolute line I wouldn’t let anyone cross, not while I was breathing.
“Where is she?”
“Who, Karen?” he asked. “I think they’re sleeping. Why—”
I was on my feet before Cole could finish. I stormed to the door and slammed my fist against it, the sound crackling through the quiet street.
“Karen,” I called. “Karen, come out here.”
Amelia and her daughter knew us long before this, back when we lived next door, and my father was still around.
They knew what it meant to wake up one morning and find him gone.
They watched us sell furniture, my father’s car, anything that could buy us one more day.
And when we got kicked out of the house, they witnessed it.
I knocked again. “Karen. Open the door.”
A light flicked on inside. I shifted, tapping my foot against the ground as I forced my ragged breaths to steady.
The door opened, and Karen stood there in her robe, eyes narrowed. “I thought you disappeared like your father,” she said, smirking.
“You hurt him,” I breathed.
Her gaze dropped to Cole. She scoffed, folding her arms across her chest.
“Told you he’d be a criminal or something,” she spat. “Just because my mother is old and can’t speak for herself, you thought you could take advantage?”
“You hurt my brother,” I snapped.
“Don’t give me attitude.”
“He is nine!” I yelled, fists clenched. “You came all this way to pick a fight with a child?”
“I told you two to move. Didn’t I?”
“That doesn’t answer my fucking question.” My jaw ached, and I let out a bitter chuckle. “I feel sorry for you.”
She laughed. “Please. Who’s homeless, you or—”
“I feel sorry for your kids and your mother, because you are an animal. And you know what?” I stepped forward, my face close to hers. “We’re leaving. Find someone else to torment. You can’t even keep your own life together, so you take it out on others.”
Her eyes narrowed, understanding exactly what I meant. I turned to Cole, who sat on the floor with the briefcase in his lap.
“What did you say?” Karen hissed, stepping forward.
“You heard me,” I said. “I can see why your husband cheats on you.” She lifted her hand to strike, and I caught it mid-air. I twisted it and pushed her backward until she stumbled into the house. “You may have touched my brother, but never raise your hand to me.”
Her face turned red, trembling with fury.
“And if you ever hurt my brother again,” I chuckled, letting menace curl in my tone, “I’ll ignore the fact that you’re twice my age.” I turned to Cole.
“Cole, let’s go.” I bent to gather our things, shoving them into the old suitcase with a rush of anger.
If my parents left, why was I becoming like them? I didn’t have to disappear when things turned ugly, while my brother looked up to me. I was supposed to push against heaven and drag the earth with me, bending every situation until we both lived long enough to look back on it.
Karen slammed the door hard enough to rattle the frame. If hatred had a face, it would be hers.
Once I finished packing, I turned to Cole.
He was flipping through a stack of banknotes, checking them as if their authenticity mattered more than the situation.
The sight pulled me back to reality. I crossed the space and grabbed the money, shoving it into the case before sense could abandon us both.
“Let’s go.”
He stood, brushing imaginary dust from his sweatpants as we headed for the gate. “We have money,” he said, more a confirmation than a question.
“I’ll get you food,” I said, moving faster. “We’re leaving this place first.”
“How much do you earn in one night shift?”
“Keep it down, Cole,” I whispered, still burning from everything that had happened.
What if I didn’t come back? Would he have stayed there, pressed against the door, hope fading with every minute? The thought made my chest tighten, and a few tears slipped free.
Cole was strong, always smiling and brushing everything off, but I could see the cracks in his armor. He didn’t deserve this childhood. I lost our parents too, but at least not when I was his age.
I shook my head, forcing the memory away. They were gone. It was just Cole and me now.
“Inna.” His voice pulled me back. I hadn’t realized how far we’d walked. “Will you buy me a hot dog?”
We stopped, and I scanned the empty street. Silence stretched between the buildings, broken only by the faint hum of a bar across the road. Two girls stepped out, laughing, heading toward a parked car.
“Let’s find somewhere to eat. What else do you want?” I dragged the suitcase along the cracked pavement.
“Just a hot dog,” Cole said.
I stopped and crouched to his level. I fixed the hood on his head and smoothed the messy strands of hair from his forehead.
“Cole, I have money. You can eat whatever you want.”
“Is it yours?” he asked, and I was speechless.
Not long ago, I would have returned the money. But seeing him hungry and vulnerable, I knew it had to stay. He was too young to understand the cruelties of this world.
“Yes. So, what else do you want?” I asked, forcing my voice to sound casual.
His face brightened. “Okay. I have a list.” He held up his fingers to count.
“The pizza Dad used to bring us. Ice cream. Remember those Christmas cookies we made? I think we can find them. Will there be a change for hot chocolate? I miss hot chocolate. And fries. With lots of sauce.” He paused, tapping a finger to his lips.
“Maybe a burger… oh, and chicken wings. Will there be enough money?”
I laughed despite everything. “You know what? Write all that down,” I said, shaking my head.
“Okay. And I’m a boy. I eat a lot. Okay?” he asked.
I nodded, my gaze lingering on him. He was a boy, my brother. Leaving him would never be an option again. I would fight for him until there was nothing left in me.
“You’re my favorite person, you know that?” I asked, and he nodded faster. “Were you scared out there alone?”
He bit his lower lip and shrugged, a tiny movement that said more than words ever could.
“I knew you’d come,” he said, as if it were carved in stone.
My throat tightened. He waited and trusted me while I tried to do something irreversible.
“I’ll never leave you,” I said. “And don’t mind Karen. She’s probably jealous because you’re cute.”
Cole giggled. “I know.”
“You know?”
“That I’m cute.” He beamed with pride. I laughed and pulled him into a hug, but he groaned and squirmed. “Don’t choke me, please.”
“Fine. Let’s eat first. I’m starving.”
“You too?”
“You think I ate without you? Never.”
We walked through the night, turning corners until we spotted a small restaurant still open. It looked like the place that fed drunk people and coin-counting dreamers who hoped for more.
We would eat, then find a motel. Tomorrow, we’ll leave this side of town and disappear.