Page 82 of Kandie Shoppe

“Take me with you.” Her pleading has me looking at her. She seems worried with the way her teeth are tearing up her lips.

“Why? So you can go spread more lies about Nikki? She never did shit to you, but you don’t have to worry about her anymore. I’m your biggest problem now.” Adding a balled fist and pressing it to each eye, I turn. I can’t stand looking at her anymore.

She’s actually in the cell that I normally get put in, but I know where the secret passages are in every cell. I’ve been in all of them at least once.

“I have someplace to be.” I quirk a brow, but I don’t respond. Even if I were so inclined, she’s already shown she’s too eager to tell our family business. There is no way I’m letting a secret that’s held for two hundred years be exposed by her. Mama and Pa-Pete entrusted me with it for a reason — to keep me safe. I would never disrespect them by telling anyone. I love gossip, I’m messy as hell, but more than that I’m loyal. I’d never put my family’s business out like that.

“Some things are bigger than just you or family. Imagine all the harm a Shelby can do in the Senate. He could end up president. Nikki is under his thrall. He’s been manipulating her for years. You just don’t know.” The pleading has me turning to see the anguish play out over her face.

“If you knew this — felt this way, why didn’t you say anything?” I press my face close to the bars.

Joi keens, tears spilling down her face. “She made me promise.”

“Girl, shut up with that,” I scoff. If Nikki made her promise? Why would she honor it? They were close in age, so maybe she thought she was being loyal as well. I guess she thought this was the only thing she could do to stop him.

“You only hurt Nikki. Mathias is fine. Men always are.”

She falls silent. Eventually, I hear the evenness of her breathing after she falls asleep.

Quiet as a mouse, I shimmy under the bed and slip into the darkened passage beneath the county jail, waiting on me like an old friend.

Stepping onto the porch,I dig into the packed soil of the planter. Dusting off the key, I open the door, letting myself into the darkened house.

Toeing off my shoes, I head to the dark kitchen. Opening the fridge, I take out the ham obviously ordered straight from one of our hog farms on the east side of the county. Stomach growling, I fish out the mustard, hard cheddar, tomatoes, and lettuce.

It takes me a couple of minutes, but I find a fresh bag of chips. After I fix my plate, adding some pickles to the side, I get a glass and fill it with some lemonade.

“Umm,” moaning around my second bite, I glance up, seeing Ulysses standing with a towel wrapped around his waist, his gun dangling in one hand and the towel fisted in the other.

“That towel better be on because you just got out of the shower and not stopped mid-fuck to see who was in your kitchen.” A brief perusal answers my demand better than words ever could. I can already see his dick bricking up as he stands there looking at me like a stunned, oversized Ken doll.

“You’re acting very blond.” Smirking, I ignore his face, going from disbelief to anger.

“How the fuck did you get in here?” he growls, stalking forward to get a bottle of water off the counter.

“I have my ways.” Shrugging, I turn to get a better look at my very own adonis. I don’t bother to tell him that his mom was my safe place for a lot of reasons when he left and never came back without a word. I think she took pity on me when I kept giving her letters to send along with hers. He never answered.

Rubbing away the burn in my solar plexus, I remember her saying the way his missions were so dangerous.

Set up that she rarely heard from him. Then, like a little dummy, it dawned on me that she did hear from him, though. He got my letters — even the big one. He didn’t respond.

Shoving up from the table, I skirt by him, going over to the sink to clean my mess.

I can feel his eyes on me as I fight for my life over his sink, thinking back to those days when I needed him, and he was never thinking of me. He literally hit it and quit it and never came back for over a fucking decade and what did I do? Spread like butter the first time this motherfucker crooked his finger in my direction. Now, I’m madder at myself than I am at Joi.

“What’s going on with you now? You know I had no choice but to do what I did earlier.” His voice is gruff with concern. Reaching toward me, he pulls one of my long curls stroking down the length.

“Why didn’t you ever write me back, Ulysses?” Not daring to look his way, I look at the way my hands are gripping the dry off towel so hard my knuckles are ashen.

“W-what?” Dropping his hand, he turns me toward him. “What do you mean, me not writing you back? I wrote to you every day for years, Kandice. You were so busy getting in trouble trying to save every wronged child for miles around that you didn’t have time for me.” He steps back like the memory singes him.

“No. No. No. I wrote to you. Not every day, but every chance I got.” Heat rushes to my face. Anger, pain, and a cacophony of other emotions bubble up and over inside of me. “I gave them to Marlene because you said you were deploying and to wait to write to you. I did. Then after about three weeks, I brought her the letters. I saved them every week after that until I gave up that you were ever going to write back.”

He’s already shaking his head at my words. Looking at him, I see the same emotions I felt at the wedding and when I sawthat paper with Nikki’s name emblazoned on it — devastation, betrayal, grief.

I watch the realization settling on him like a cloak of despair. I don’t know how we end upholding each other in the center of his family’s kitchen with me sobbing, heart-wrenching sobs and him stroking my back in long sweeps, whispering, “I’m so sorry, baby,” over and over.

“I’m sorry how that made you feel--” he starts.

---