Page 20 of Beautifully Broken Control

“It is. Who am I speaking with?” I went back to emptying the small grocery bag.

“You’re a murderer. Your whole family is. You’ll pay. One day, you’ll get what’s coming to you. I’ll make sure of it.”

I’d dropped the phone as if I’d been burned, the screen shattering. I’d made an appointment with a lawyer the next day. And slowly began the process of erasing my life.

But there was something so incredibly freeing about being a blank canvas. I could decide who I wanted to be. I could try things on. Pick them up and put them down. What did Kennedy Charles wear? What music did she listen to? What books did she read? What did she like to do in her free time?

Who was I kidding? There was no free time. I worked myself to the bone. Mostly for distraction. Because as soon as I was still for too long, the guilt got louder. Most of the time, it was low background noise. But if I got too quiet, sat with my thoughts for too long, it became a thundering drum.

And now, someone who knew about the person I used to be had my number. I flashed back to earlier that morning. All of Cain’s questions. Did he know the truth? In the moment, I hadn’t been able to tell if he was fucking with me or flirting—or maybe a little bit of both. But now I wondered if he knew about my past.

I let out a slow breath.You’re okay. You’re safe.I mouthed the words over and over to myself until my heart rate calmed. Just because someone had found a phone number didn’t mean that someone was going to show up and throw fake blood on me again. Or worse. I’d go to the convenience store tomorrow and pick up a new cell with a new number. I’d had this one for too long anyhow. Everything would be fine.

“Miss Kennedy!” Annabeth ran across the parking lot, her mother following closely behind. She hit my legs with anoomphand grinned up at me, one tooth missing.

I gave her a squeeze. “How are you today, Miss A?”

Her grin got wider. “I’m great! It’s ballet day.”

“That it is.” I flicked one of her pigtails over her shoulder as she let me go. When I looked up, I saw a sheen of tears in her mother’s eyes. “Annabeth, why don’t you run inside and practice your positions? I’ll be right in.”

She nodded and ran for the studio. I looked back to Patrice. “Are you all right?”

She wiped a finger under her eyes. “Sorry. I’m fine. It’s just, Jim lost his job. Cutbacks. Things are going to be tight for a while. I don’t think we’ll be able to manage these ballet lessons.”

My heart clenched. Annabeth was my most gung-ho student. She loved every second of her classes. I reached out and took Patrice’s hand. “Don’t worry about paying. I’ll work something out with Seraphina. You just do what you need to for your family.”

The wetness was back in Patrice’s eyes. “I can’t let you do that.”

“Nonsense. Of course, you can.” I squeezed her shoulder. “We all need a hand sometimes. It’s okay to take it.” I did a quick mental calculation. I could swing it. My grocery budget would be a little tight, but I could make it work.

Patrice pulled me into a hug. “You are such a good soul.”

A war of sensations erupted in my chest. Warmth, gratitude, pride. Pain, guilt, and fear. I had to hold on to the reminder that I could be whoever I wanted to be now. And the person I wanted to be was generous. She made sure everyone around her had whatever they needed.

Patrice released me, and I gave her a warm smile. “I’m happy to help. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”

Patrice nodded, her lips pressed together in an attempt to hold back another rush of tears. “Thank you. I’ll see you after class.”

“See you then.” I lifted a hand in a wave as I headed inside.

“You’re late.” Seraphina’s words cracked in the echoey space.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. I was literally one minute late. “I’m sorry. I was talking to Annabeth’s mother.”

“I saw. What was that all about?”

My gaze traveled to the studio space where Annabeth was diligently practicing her positions. “Her husband lost his job, and they won’t be able to pay for ballet lessons anymore.”

Seraphina grimaced. “Then what is she doing here?” Seraphina gestured to the young girl in the studio, the movement causing the gauzy sleeves of her blouse to billow.

Seraphina was not the warm and fuzzy type. Why she had decided to open a ballet studio to teach children was beyond me. I got the sense that she was someone who had been turned bitter by a dream left unfulfilled. She often spoke of her time in New York, though I wasn’t sure how much of it was true. I knew for sure that Seraphina wasn’t her real name. Her driver’s license readSally. But who was I to judge? It wasn’t like Kennedy Charles was my birth name either.

I twisted the strap of my bag in my fingers. “Just take her class fees out of my pay.”

Seraphina’s gaze narrowed on me. “I’m not giving you a discount.”

Of course, she wasn’t. “That’s fine.”

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