Page 60 of Fairies Never Fall

I’m pleased to let you know we’ll be able to take your case on.

The paper crinkles between my fingers.

Your current employment status and the complexity of your situation make you a good candidate for rehabilitative financial support.

I’ve made some calls to your creditors and most of them sound open to a settlement. It will take time to negotiate, so in the meantime you’ll need to make regular payments into a holding account. This will be used to pay off a lump sum of the debt once the settlement is finalized. At that point, we pay the remainder of the settlement amount and you continue paying us according to your ability.

I slump into the kitchen chair. A snort forces its way out of my nose. Even in a group dedicated to helping people, the lawyers sound like lawyers.

The monthly payments are still pretty sizeable, but it’soneamount, not eight different payments to eight different vultures. And I’m pretty sure I can manage it between tips and what Syril pays me.

There’s a bunch more to the letter about staying in communication and the terms of the agreement, which I skim. I flip to the second page and find a list of the debts that’ll be consolidated — legal fees, the private loan I took out to post bail, the credit cards I ran up after getting out, the administrative fees I owe to the court, blah, blah, blah.

Just seeing it all written out makes me dizzy. Fresh out of prison and barely twenty one, I’d pretty much made the minimum payments on everything and closed my eyes to the interest racking up. It sure didn’t do me any favors, but back then, even thinking about it made me panic. In comparison, doing my time was easy.

Finally, I brace myself to look at the total sum.

Jesus fuck.

I’m not gonna pay that off until I die, settlement or no.

I toss the letter away from myself with a groan. I’m happy they’ve agreed to work with me. I won’t have to deal with the collectors and they’ll manage everything for me. All I need to do is send one payment, on top of whatever the court’s taking off my wages — I don’t look at that, it’s too depressing. The number they quoted means I can still pay rent and feed myself.

But nothing else. No saving up to find a new apartment, no emergency maintenance on the truck, no time off work.

It’s no worse than how I’ve already been living. So why the sudden crushing pressure on my lungs?

The Sanctum has been good to me — better than I deserve. I’ve managed to trick them all into seeing a guy who’s more charismatic, responsible, and hardworking than I really am. The guy I’ve tried hard to be since I got out, but who I just can’t mold myself into. All this stuff — a good job, good friends, and people willing to help me — feels unearned.

The reality is, prison was something I brought on myself. I made shitty choices in life. Before I met Jasper, I had a good home life. I had supportive parents, extracurriculars, okay grades. I had Fitzie. I threw it all away for the temporary thrill of getting attention from a guy ten years older than me, and by the time that guy handed me a baggie of cocaine and said‘Bring this to the party for me’, I’d already burned a lot of bridges. When Jasper dropped me like the dud I was, I couldn’t even be surprised.

Then I spent a lot of the last few years trying to figure outwhyI let my life slip away from me like that, and I came up empty-handed. It was like no matter how far I got, the person I was back then still hung around my neck.

Every‘no’turned my stomach. Even if I got a job, I couldn’t keep it. Hell, there was a time I was sleeping in my truck downby the river, fighting the urge to just leave the parking brake off and let whatever happened, happen.

Yet somehow, all kinds of people are looking at me now and saying,Yeah, that guy — he’s a good one.

For some reason that scares me the most.

“Is everything okay?” Lysander murmurs, making the sheets tangle as he rolls over to face me. He always sleeps with his back to me, and maybe it’s embarrassing to be such a cliche of a top but I can’t get enough of his little spoon energy.

I put on a smile for him. I must’ve been miles away if he picked up on it. “Course it is.”

He tangles our fingers together. “Your heart is beating faster than normal.”

“I promise I’m fine,” I reassure him.

“I want to know if something’s wrong.” His eyes search mine.

I cup his slim jaw, loving the way his eyelashes flutter and he leans into my touch. “I know you do, sweets.”

Soon his eyes drift shut and his hand goes lax in mine. But I don’t sleep for a long time.

Even Fitzie doesn’t know the depth of my money issues. I’m ashamed to tell him. He grew up with no money, and I always had everything I needed. I dug this hole for myself. It’s not like I was a big time dealer or selling drugs on the playground, but I was as bad as Jasper even though I pretended it had nothing to do with me just because the money didn’t pass through my hands.

What happens when Lysander learns the truth about me?

I avoid signing the final paperwork until I finally have a day off and can no longer pretend I’m too busy to look at it. I call the nonprofit to let them know the signed contract is on the way, then I hole up on the couch and turn the TV on to my secret indulgence — a show calledUnnaturalabout two firefighter brothers who investigate arsons they think have supernaturalcauses — and surround myself with junk food. My stomach squirms and I stare unseeing at the show as I shove Doritos in my mouth.

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