Page 57 of Only Fate

The problem is, I can’t forget how normal it was before.

The PEP taking Earl’s case might not change anything. The prosecutors had a mountain of evidence against him. They said there was no doubt he’d caused the accident.

I pull my wet hair into a ponytail after showering and walkout to my living room, filled with my friends. My parents are out of town and supposed to be gone for the week, but River said they booked a flight home as soon as they heard the news.

“We’re by your side, no matter what,” Callie says as everyone jumps up to hug me.

I don’t doubt that.

“Maybe I should …” I slowly twirl my wrist and stare at it. “Maybe I should visit Earl and ask him to complete his sentence for his crime.”

River stands and shakes his head furiously. “Fuck no. If anyone visits him, it’ll be me.”

I focus on my twin. “Do you remember the last time you saw Earl? The cops arrested you for trying to fight him.”

He throws out his arms. “And?”

My phone vibrates in my hand, and a text from Adrian pops up on the screen.

Adrian: How are you feeling?

I ignore his text and sit between Ava and Amelia on the couch. They instantly snuggle in closer, like they’re my bodyguards.

I stare at my phone. There’s an urge to google Earl.

To email the PEP and explain the hell they’ll put me through if they attempt to set him free.

Amelia wraps her arm around me and drags me in for a side hug. “Let me be here for you, like you were me.”

I lower my chin and nod. “Give me tonight, okay?”

Right now, I want to be alone because I know when my parents arrive tomorrow, all hell will break loose. They’ll call the attorneys and attempt to fight Earl and the PEP.

I need a moment of peace before my life is changed again.

And I need to figure out how to push Adrian away so he doesn’t ever see the real me.

20

“Hi, Adrian,” my mother greets when I enter her office.

I called her on my drive home from Essie’s, and she insisted I come to her office. She’s only invited me to the Prison Exoneration Program’s headquarters once before, so whatever she needs, it’s important.

I stare over her shoulder at the framed pictures on the windowsill.

Her and my father in front of the Grand Canyon.

Her, my grandmother, and me in Puerto Rico.

The three of us again when I graduated from law school.

I always have to do a double take at pictures with my father. We’re almost spitting images of each other. The genetic gods did everything they could to form me into a memory of him.

Other than those photos and her degrees, there’s no other personalization here.

“How are you?” I ask, sitting in the white leather chair before her desk.

She reaches to her left, collects a thick manila folder, and leans forward to drop it on the space in front of me. “I need something from you.”

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