and that’s all that matters.”
“It’s done,” Angelo replied succinctly, suddenly overwhelmed by sadness. “Carlo deserved what he got.”
As the announcement blared that visitation was over, the two COs unlocked the cage and hauled Enzo to his feet. “Tell Grant I want to see him,” Enzo reiterated as he was led away.
Angelo tiredly shuffled to the parking lot, Enzo’s parting words ringing in his ears. There’d be no way in hell Grant would willingly visit his father.
As he eased into his car, Angelo glanced at his reflection in the rearview mirror. Enzo was right. He did look like shit.
***
“Is that wind?” Sophie inquired over the phone. “Are you outside?”
“I’m at a construction site,” Will Taylor lied. Glancing around him at the neat rows of headstones, he continued trudging toward his destination.
“At least it’s a warm wind,” she said.
“Yes, the Windy City’s much more tolerable in the summer,” he agreed. “Listen, honey, I know you have to get back to work, but I just wanted to check on you.”
“Dad, I’m fine.”
He bit his lip, and his grip tightened on his cell phone. Unable to control himself, he blurted, “You’re not spending too much time with Grant, are you?”
She sighed wearily. “I just saw him at our PO’s. You do realize we’re living together, right?”
“You know you’re always welcome in my house. You’d have much more room.”
“We’ve been through this before.” Sophie felt her throat tighten. She didn’t want to end this conversation with yelling once again. “I have to go,” she said coldly.
“Okay,” he reluctantly agreed as he arrived at Laura’s plot. They exchanged hasty goodbyes, and he folded his phone. He squatted next to his wife’s grave and tapped the phone to his forehead with one hand. A sense of dread consumed him. “Please, God,” he whispered, bowing his head. “Please keep Sophie safe.”
All he heard was the faint howl of a breeze rustling through the ash trees lining the graveyard. Glancing at her headstone, he spoke quietly. “I’m sorry, Laura. It’s my fault. I’m so sorry.”
He remained huddled near her grave for several minutes before the shrill ring of the phone interrupted his reverie. When he saw the caller ID, he stopped breathing.
Reluctantly flipping open his phone, he listened for a moment, then nodded grimly. “You’ll have your money,” he pledged. “I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll never forget again.”
5. Confession
“Wow, that was fast!” Sophie’s hand shot into her purse as she heard the soft bell indicating she had a text message. “I didn’t even notice you typing.”
Grant smiled proudly. “Ben’s working with me during breaks on the ship. That kid’s texting skills are amazing.”
“How is your nephew?”
Grant sighed. “He’s your typical teenager: rude, lazy, and exasperating.”
Sophie frowned for a moment, then giggled as she read his message, remembering the day they’d traded hotdog puns at the baseball game.
Are your buns warm?
Grinning, she leaned in to him and murmured “McSailor’s got mad skills too” before planting a soft kiss on his temple. Grant cupped her chin in his hand and brought her lips to his own. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a blond man step into the room.
Grant straightened up in his chair and nodded to Hunter, who smirked and shook his head.
“I’ve never seen so much PDA from a couple in counseling,” their therapist said.
The couple in question rose from their chairs, a soft blush forming on Sophie’s high cheekbones, and accompanied Hunter down the hall.
“But I bet you’ve never seen a couple mandated for therapy as a condition of their parole either,” said Sophie.
“That’s true.” Hunter opened his office door and the three took their seats. “It’s actually nice to see some loving affection, as opposed to partners screaming at each other all the time.” An added bonus was that
“It’s done,” Angelo replied succinctly, suddenly overwhelmed by sadness. “Carlo deserved what he got.”
As the announcement blared that visitation was over, the two COs unlocked the cage and hauled Enzo to his feet. “Tell Grant I want to see him,” Enzo reiterated as he was led away.
Angelo tiredly shuffled to the parking lot, Enzo’s parting words ringing in his ears. There’d be no way in hell Grant would willingly visit his father.
As he eased into his car, Angelo glanced at his reflection in the rearview mirror. Enzo was right. He did look like shit.
***
“Is that wind?” Sophie inquired over the phone. “Are you outside?”
“I’m at a construction site,” Will Taylor lied. Glancing around him at the neat rows of headstones, he continued trudging toward his destination.
“At least it’s a warm wind,” she said.
“Yes, the Windy City’s much more tolerable in the summer,” he agreed. “Listen, honey, I know you have to get back to work, but I just wanted to check on you.”
“Dad, I’m fine.”
He bit his lip, and his grip tightened on his cell phone. Unable to control himself, he blurted, “You’re not spending too much time with Grant, are you?”
She sighed wearily. “I just saw him at our PO’s. You do realize we’re living together, right?”
“You know you’re always welcome in my house. You’d have much more room.”
“We’ve been through this before.” Sophie felt her throat tighten. She didn’t want to end this conversation with yelling once again. “I have to go,” she said coldly.
“Okay,” he reluctantly agreed as he arrived at Laura’s plot. They exchanged hasty goodbyes, and he folded his phone. He squatted next to his wife’s grave and tapped the phone to his forehead with one hand. A sense of dread consumed him. “Please, God,” he whispered, bowing his head. “Please keep Sophie safe.”
All he heard was the faint howl of a breeze rustling through the ash trees lining the graveyard. Glancing at her headstone, he spoke quietly. “I’m sorry, Laura. It’s my fault. I’m so sorry.”
He remained huddled near her grave for several minutes before the shrill ring of the phone interrupted his reverie. When he saw the caller ID, he stopped breathing.
Reluctantly flipping open his phone, he listened for a moment, then nodded grimly. “You’ll have your money,” he pledged. “I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll never forget again.”
5. Confession
“Wow, that was fast!” Sophie’s hand shot into her purse as she heard the soft bell indicating she had a text message. “I didn’t even notice you typing.”
Grant smiled proudly. “Ben’s working with me during breaks on the ship. That kid’s texting skills are amazing.”
“How is your nephew?”
Grant sighed. “He’s your typical teenager: rude, lazy, and exasperating.”
Sophie frowned for a moment, then giggled as she read his message, remembering the day they’d traded hotdog puns at the baseball game.
Are your buns warm?
Grinning, she leaned in to him and murmured “McSailor’s got mad skills too” before planting a soft kiss on his temple. Grant cupped her chin in his hand and brought her lips to his own. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a blond man step into the room.
Grant straightened up in his chair and nodded to Hunter, who smirked and shook his head.
“I’ve never seen so much PDA from a couple in counseling,” their therapist said.
The couple in question rose from their chairs, a soft blush forming on Sophie’s high cheekbones, and accompanied Hunter down the hall.
“But I bet you’ve never seen a couple mandated for therapy as a condition of their parole either,” said Sophie.
“That’s true.” Hunter opened his office door and the three took their seats. “It’s actually nice to see some loving affection, as opposed to partners screaming at each other all the time.” An added bonus was that
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