Page 78 of Beautifully Broken Redemption

Juliette’s jaw clenched, and she worked it back and forth. She pulled a folder out of her bag and threw it onto my desk. “I was looking out for you. I can’t believe you’d want those children to be with a woman like this, instead of two loving grandparents who would have all of the time and energy in the world to devote to them. She must have some sort of golden vagina to make you forget what we went through.”

Before I could say a word, correct the stream of bullshit that had just fallen from Juliette’s mouth, she turned on her heel and stormed out of my office. I could only stare after her. How had we come to this?

I gritted my teeth and tapped out a text.

Me:You have a world of misinformation. If you could listen to me for five minutes before throwing a tantrum, you’d see that.

It only took a few seconds for a reply.

Juliette:Look at that folder and tell me I’m wrong.

Me:I don’t need to. I can already tell you that you are.

But the folder was already flipped open. There was an array of photos and newspaper clippings. Some of the articles I’d seen, some I hadn’t. All wove a picture of a young girl who’d used her innocent looks to get away with pumping drugs into her high school.

The photos made me nauseous. Anna with glassy eyes, Derek’s hands all over her. They looked like pictures friends had taken at a party. I knew it was all normal, the typical kind of high school rebellion, yet a lead weight settled in my stomach. I hadn’t had that kind of rebellion. I’d been too busy taking care of Juliette. And if the courts got ahold of this, it might be enough to skew things in Anna’s parents’ direction.

I tapped out another text—this time to Dante. I paused before hitting send, knowing it was a violation. But I couldn’t wait for Anna to tell me what we needed to know. There was too much riding on this custody battle. We had to cover all of our bases if we were to keep Justin and Lyla safe. I could take Anna’s anger, and I knew she’d eventually understand why it needed to be done.

Me:I need you to dig into Anna’s background. See what the other side could dig up that could hurt us.

Dante:On it.

I should’ve felt relieved. Knowledge was power, and if my sister could find this much, what could a motivated legal team get their hands on?

30

Anna

I rifled through cabinets,banging pots and pans as I went. It wasn’t fair to the dishes, but I had to take my frustration out somewhere. And going for an hours-long walk in the woods the way I had when I’d first come to Sutter Lake wasn’t an option.

My gaze caught on Justin and Lyla as I straightened. They laughed as they kicked the soccer ball back and forth. I should be happy. Relieved. I had what I wanted most—Justin and Lyla safe. And with any luck, the judge would rule in our favor soon.

The social worker had recommended that the kids stay where they were. Justin and Lyla had braved speaking with the judge and had told him that they wanted to live with Mason and me. Derek hadn’t testified yet, but Keisha had assured me that the judge wouldn’t put much stock in whatever he had to say.

Instead of resting in the building hope of my niece and nephew being happy, I was angry. With Mason, but more with myself. It had been six hours, and he’d never returned my call.

I was angry because it hurt. Because I let myself reach a hand out for support, and he was nowhere to be found. The mix of pain and anger bubbling inside me was why I hadn’t wanted to do this with Mason in the first place. When you opened yourself up, when you counted on someone besides yourself, you could get dropped—and the crash could leave you broken.

The oven beeped, and I pulled the chicken I’d been marinating all day out of the fridge. When I’d thrown everything together this morning, I’d done it with Mason in mind. Knowing he’d like the salty-sweet combination of the honey mustard glaze. Now, the fact that I’d made the dish simply pissed me off.

I shoved it into the oven with a little more force than necessary. Maybe Mason wouldn’t even come home tonight and wouldn’t get my damn chicken. I took the pot off the counter, filling it with rice and water and setting it on the stove.

Just as it came to a boil, I heard the garage door open. I stiffened but forced myself to keep moving, turning the heat down and covering the rice to steam. I moved to the island where I had an array of veggies to chop for a salad.

The door opened, but I remained focused on my task. Mason’s shoes sounded on the hardwood floor. “Hey,” he greeted.

“Hey.” I didn’t look up.

“Oh, shit. I completely forgot to call you back.”

“No problem.” I diced a carrot into tiny pieces and dumped it onto the bed of mixed greens.

“If it’s no problem, then why aren’t you looking at me?”

I raised my head, forcing myself to meet his gaze. Mason was too handsome for his own good. Too charming and sweet, and it made women like me stupid. It made me think that something could work between the two of us when it was actually impossible. “I didn’t want to chop off a finger.”

His lips twitched, and my eyes followed every flicker of movement. “Safety is important. Still, I’m sorry.”

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