Nine Solitary
Sienna
For days, I wait to hear the news story. “Riot breaks out at Blackridge Penitentiary, killing four inmates including convicted killer Osiris Soto...”
I wait, I watch, I Google, but no such headline ever pops up. From what I can tell, the prison’s website hasn’t been updated in almost six months and the information on there is scarce to begin with anyway. I even tried to call, but they told me they weren’t allowed to give out any information to people who weren’t immediate family. They didn’t buy our fake marriage either, and I can’t say I blame them. I’m not sure I believe it anymore.
The only thing I can figure is that the thought of me having a past before him turned him off to the point where he doesn’t want to have anything to do with me. I heard the sirens, sure, but that isn’t the first time they’ve gone on lockdown since I’ve known him and he’s always been fine. It’s usually something stupid, not some fight to the death. It’s also not the first time he’s missed a scheduled call, but it is the first time he’s gone multiple days without calling me at all or returning my Lock & Key messages.
So it has to be me. Maybe reminding him how long his sentence is also pulled our reality into focus for him. This was never going to last forever, so why dig ourselves any deeper? It’s better to cut our losses now than to properly fall in love and be left in limbo.
Yeah, it’s better this way. My brain knows that. I think my heart might know it, too. But there’s apparently some secret third part of me that refuses to believe anything of the sort and is half convinced I need to hop on a plane to Blackridge and go see him for myself. I’ve packed and unpacked my suitcase three fucking times in the last six days, and I’m staring at it once again.
Knowing I need a little levity and perspective, I do the only thing I can do: I call Lydia. “First, allow me to say I told you so. Second, please tell me I’m still very incredibly wrong and that you’re always right so I should shut up and trust the process or whatever.”
“Um... yes... that?” she breathes a laugh. “What’s up? Do you need me to come over with wine?”
“Wine sounds like a terrible idea. I’m in.”
“Be there in ten.” She hangs up the phone before I can respond, and when she shows up twenty minutes later I don’t hold it against her, because she comes with three bottles of wine and two bags of Chinese food. “Let’s do this, girl. Tell me why I’m always right or whatever it was you said.”
I grab the bag of wontons and ignore the actual entree. “Osiris hasn’t called in almost a week. Make it make sense.”
“That dick better be dead,” she replies in solidarity. “What happened the last time you spoke?”
Shrugging, I try to act like I haven’t gone over the memory a million times. “It was normal until I made a comment that suggested I’ve been with other guys. He got weird about it then the alarm started going off and he hung up.”
“Oh hell no. He better not be one of those insecure guys that want their chick not to have a past. That’s complete bullshit! Especially because we know his beautiful ass was a hoe before prison. There’s absolutely no way he wasn’t.”
Well, he was sixteen at the time, so who knows. I know some people start early but did he? It certainly seems like he knows what he’s talking about, but how much of that came from other inmates or porn? “I don’t know. It’s not like I was ever really his, anyway.”
She releases a frustrated noise on my behalf and sets her plate of food aside. “Guess guys are shit no matter where they are. Hey, at least this one’s in prison already, so it’s not like he’s out there having fun.”
The tightness in my chest says otherwise. I can’t pinpoint why, but I feel like something is off. Very, very off. “Either way, can we chalk this up to a terrible plot and I can move on? Is it time for Tinder now?”
“Yeah, I guess it’s time for Tinder. I’m pissed for you, I saw how much you liked him even though you’d never admit it. I know you told me not to Google him, but I’m real tempted now, girl.” She pulls out her phone like she’s about to, and then sets it aside with a groan. “All men suck.”
She’s not wrong. I might not’ve said it aloud, but I was falling for him. Maybe this is for the best. “They do suck, so fuck it.” I lean forward to grab my glass of wine and take a long sip. “I’m gonna go back to living my life on my terms and having men nowhere near me.”
I hate that she looks like she feels bad for me, but at the same time, fuck that. I don’t need anyone’s pity. I was fine before him.
“What if he calls and has a legit reason? Like solitary or something?”
Truthfully, I haven’t thought about that. If he got in a fight during the lockdown, he may very well be in solitary. “Son of a bitch,” I mumble. “Why’d you do that to me?”
“Sorry,” she sing-songs. “Okay, back to ‘fuck boys’ for now. Enjoy being angry at him for a bit.”
Yet I can’t, because now I’m picturing him trapped inside a box. Fuck, I just wish I knew the truth. Is he in solitary, is he hurt, or did he just decide I wasn’t worth the trouble? The uncertainty is eating me alive.
“Let’s just change the subject altogether. Did you get more wontons than this? I ate them all.”
“Yes, actually. I got two containers for your wonton ass. I want some.”
And I don’t want to share, but I love her so I let her grab it as the doorbell rings. “Go away!” I yell through the door. “We’re not home!”
But the asshole just rings it again... multiple times.
What the fuck?
I rock up on my tiptoes to try and see through the peephole when the door smacks me in the face. “Ow!” I yelp, grabbing my nose and stepping back. “What the f—”
“Sienna?” Osiris fucking Soto pushes his way inside my house, his eyes scanning the space over my head like he’s looking for something, before they finally lock on me. He’s breathtaking in person... or maybe I’m having a heart attack at the fact that he’s standing before me, because I can’t fucking breathe. There’s a fading bruise under his eye, and a long scar down the left side of his skull that I never noticed in the photos of him, but aside from that he looks exactly the way he did on a screen. Especially when he grins. “Fuck, you’re beautiful. What happened to your nose?”
Suddenly his arms are wrapping around me and squeezing me against him. Complete shock has me frozen in place with my aching nose pressed against his chest, and I’m struck by just how intense our height difference really is. I think he grew more than he thinks he did.
“Um... you hit me with the door,” I mumble.
“Shit, I’m sorry.” I hear him inhale my hair, and relax a little when I remember I washed it earlier. “Hi. What are you gonna do with those?”
He finally releases me and holds his hands up with an amused grin, and I spin around and find Lydia holding up her chopsticks like they’re knives. “What do you think? You just let yourself in here.”
“My bad. I saw another car out there, and when she yelled she wasn’t home, I kind of panicked.” His gaze flicks to me, and I immediately know he assumed there was another guy in here. “I just wanted to see my wife. You don’t look like a Greg in person.”
Wait, what? Who the fuck is G—
I flash back suddenly to the joke I made about my real name being Greg, and I swear I get a little lightheaded. Is he serious right now? I think he’s serious.
But not even that is enough to get me to forget he just called me his wife.
With that one little word, it becomes clear that I’m about to have to pay the piper. All the things I said to him, all the promises I made thinking I’d never have to follow through... he’s here.
Oh my fucking god, he’s here.
“How...?” I can’t even speak, so I hope the confusion and mild horror on my face fully conveys what I’m trying to ask.
“They let me out.” He disappears outside for a second, and then drops a duffle bag on the floor between us. “You said you wished I could come here on parole, remember? What’s that smell? It smells bomb.”
Stepping over the bag, he moves into the kitchen and releases a groan when he finds all of our food, leaving me and Lydia staring at each other with our jaws hanging open. “What the fuck?” she mouths at me, but I don’t have any answers for her.
He was fucking paroled here?!? Aren’t they supposed to... I don’t know, call a bitch before they release a convicted murderer to her? Did I black out for the last month and a half?
I genuinely don’t know what to do. Reason says to kick his ass out, but the twisted part of me that started talking to him to begin with definitely wants this to be true.
Holy shit, I need therapy. Years ago, apparently.
“I—” Nope, I still can’t speak. “You—”
We’re still standing in the same spots when he walks back with a plate of food, and with the way he’s stuffing his face it’s blatantly obvious he’s served time. “Why are you guys still in the same positions?”
“Why are you in my house?” I blurt. “Not that I... I’m complaining or anything, just... what’s happening right now? Lydia?” My head swims as everything starts to get dark. Oh, fucking hell. I am not about to pass out right now. Nope. “Give me back my wontons.”
He glances down at the four wontons on his plate, and then takes a step back like he really wants them. “I’m hungry. I haven’t had Chinese food in over eight years.” He shoves a whole one into his mouth before either of us can move.
“Oh my god,” Lydia yells, walking over to snatch the plate of food from him. “She’s completely in shock, Si. You’re supposed to give a heads up before you assume you can move into someone’s house. You’re not supposed to be out for ten years!”
Confusion takes over his face, as he finishes chewing. “Ten years? I already served eight. Why do you guys think I have ten more years?”
“That’s what it said on your profile, dumbass!”
“Your release date was in May ten fucking years from now,” I confirm. “We talked about this. Give me that.” I rush forward to snatch the next wonton out of his hand, and have to fight a smile at how hard it makes him laugh. Nothing about this is funny, but fucking hell is he pretty when he smiles. Goddamn it.
“That’s what those are called?” He walks back to the kitchen and grabs the container of the rest of them, then hops up to sit on the counter. “And that site is wrong then. Probably an underpaid admin or some shit. I just needed a place to stay, and when my girl offered I let them know. I have the paperwork in my bag if you wanna see, and my PO will be coming out to inspect the place within the month. Do you not want me here anymore?”
I’m hardly listening to him, because he’s holding my wontons hostage, and he’s ensuring he keeps the container too high for me to reach.
“Osiris. That’s not how this works,” I mumble. “I’m not stupid. To be paroled somewhere, they have to do home visits and stuff don’t they? Or at least tell the person? No one came here.”
“No one came?” he mumbles around another wonton. “Honestly, I’m glad because I wanted to surprise you, but I thought someone ruined it. Do you want me to call my PO?”
Red flags are waving all over the place. “Yeah,” I admit. “Please.”
Finally, he sets my wontons down and then looks around. “Can I borrow your phone?”
Slowly, I point to where it’s sitting on the arm of the couch.
Hopping off the counter, he gives me a drive-by kiss on my cheek as he makes his way over and I have to take a second to compose myself.
Holy shit, he’s here. And he’s... mine?
Lydia raises an eyebrow at whatever my face is doing, and I don’t miss how amused she looks when she glances between us. “Are you okay?” she whispers, her attention shifting to me as he ruffles through his bag for the paperwork.
“I think so? I can’t really tell. He’s hot though, right?”
Yeah, Sienna. That’s what matters here.
Snorting, I watch her as she looks him up and down to check him out. “Mmhm. Even better in person.”
He glances over with a smirk as he holds the phone up to his ear, but he isn’t looking at her at all. It feels like I’m all he can see.
It’s intense.
“Put it on speaker.”
His grin falters a bit, and it takes him a few seconds to figure out how to even do it. “Hello?” someone answers, and there’s a lot of background noise that has me moving closer to hear better.
“Hey, C— uh, Officer Ridge. It’s Osiris Soto... your parolee.”
“Soto? Uh... hold on a sec.” The noise gradually dulls. “Okay, you said your name was Soto?”
“Yeah. I just got to my new home, and my wife just wants to talk to you and make sure everything is good since no one notified her of anything or came to check out her house.”
Here we go. Time to get some answers.
“Oh, right. You’re the transfer from Blackridge. Sorry, I’m not in front of my computer right now but yeah, I remember you. I tried to stop by the house and no one answered — tell her I’m sorry, but since you guys are married and we’ve got a lot going on, I went ahead and just approved it.”
“I can hear you and we’re not legally married. Didn’t you check that?”
He goes silent for a moment too long. “No, I uh... didn’t. Do you want me to call the cops?”
Osiris’ eyes go wide like he’s worried I might actually call them. “Well, not technically married yet, but we will be. She proposed to me.”
When I thought it wasn’t fucking real. “No, don’t call the cops. I think I just need...” What? A drink? A nap? A fucking lobotomy?
“Are you sure? I can have an officer out in ten minutes.”
“She said she didn’t need one,” Si rushes out. “We’re good. Do you have any more questions for him?”
About a hundred, but my brain is shorting out. “What are my responsibilities here, exactly?”
“House him, make sure he stays on the straight and narrow, maybe throw him some food. He’ll mostly take care of himself.”
“Is he a man or a dog?” I blurt. “Never mind. How long?”
“Again, I don’t have it in front of me, but I’m pretty sure it’s just two years. Didn’t he show you the paperwork? It details everything.”
“No, he didn’t.” Glancing down, I see the very thin stack of papers in his hand and reach out for them. It mostly looks like legalese, but I don’t know enough about this shit to have any idea what I’m really looking at. “Okay,” I concede. “Um... yeah, okay.”
“Alright, so I’ll give you guys a call when I’m on the way out in a few weeks. That way, he has time to settle in and I’ll get to see the set up. Don’t forget your sample on Monday, Soto. Congratulations on getting out.”
He hangs up before either of us can respond, and Si passes me my phone back. “You don’t seem as happy as I thought you would be. Sorry, I guess I shouldn’t have made it a surprise, but this is what I meant when I said I was sending you something soon.”
He looks almost embarrassed as he glances between me and Lydia like he wishes we were alone, and I honestly do too. It might be easier to think straight without her standing there like she just won the lottery. “No, I’m sorry. You just caught me by surprise, that’s all. I’m terrible with those. I was expecting like a dick pic or a poem or something, not... all of you.”
Suddenly he’s smiling again and stepping into my space so he’s all I can see, smell, and feel. “Do you want to see my dick, beautiful?”
His voice lowers in that way that drove me crazy so many times on the phone, but this time, I can’t hide my face.
“Ooohkay,” Lydia huffs. “I think that’s my cue to leave you two newlyweds alone. Sienna, if you don’t call me in the morning, I’m sending in the SWAT team. Got it?” She glares almost playfully at Osiris, who still doesn’t take his eyes off of me.
“Nice to meet you, Lyd. Thanks for convincing her to get on Lock & Key for me, I owe you one. Bye now.”
The brashness doesn’t seem to bother her at all as she flashes me a thumbs up and darts for the door. All of my security seems to follow her outside when it shuts, but standing in front of me is the source of every fantasy I’ve had for weeks.
The universe is obviously trying to tell me something here, but whether that’s “you’re a dumb bitch who is going to die if you don’t start being more careful who you talk to” or some cheesy shit about love coming when you stop looking for it, but either way... I think I might be ready to listen.
What choice do I have, anyway?
Slowly, I reach out to splay my fingers across his muscular chest. “Please don’t be mad at me for my reaction. I really, truly thought you weren’t getting out for another decade.”
Nodding, he seems to have already moved on. “It’s okay, really. I don’t think I could ever be mad at you, Sienna. Just tell me I can kiss you.”
Both of his hands cradle my face as he slowly moves in, giving me an opportunity to speak up even though I’m not sure I ever learned any real languages. The drop in my stomach is followed too quickly by butterflies and adrenaline, narrowing my focus entirely to his lips. “No, Si. I’m sorry.”