“I have mob connections. Now where is she?” Kelton’s voice was unyielding.
I cringed at the word mob. The organization Dillon wanted to stay away from.
“Man, you don’t give up. Have you asked yourself why she walked away from you last night?” Dillon asked.
I wanted to peek through the curtains. Body language was always a better way to discern a person’s emotions. Truth be told, I wanted a glimpse of Kelton too.
“You know, Hart? Last night I had every intention of shaking your hand for helping girls get off the streets. But now? Now I want to ram my fist in your face again. I’ll find Lizzie, and she’ll talk to me.”
Dillon harrumphed. “What makes you think she’ll talk to you?”
“Obviously she hasn’t shared her past with you. Such a shame if you two are intimate, but she owes me.”
His last sentence gave me whiplash. He had been the one to declare that he’d find me one day. That didn’t mean we owed each other anything. The pain in my heart warred with the angry heat pinching my cheeks as I thought back to the day Gracie accidentally killed Karen. Blood had covered Gracie’s face as tears streamed down it, her breathing had been labored, her hands shaking. I couldn’t imagine being in the Maxwells’ shoes when they lost Karen. That aside, not one person among the Maxwells had tried to find out how Gracie was or said that they were sorry for what happened. My sister hadn’t died that day, but she might as well have.
A cold hand touched my face. “Lizzie.” Bee’s flowery voice brought me out of my trance. “Allie and I are here for you. Don’t cry.”
A salty tear slid down my cheek, finding its way into my mouth. I blinked to find Allie and Bee at my side, rubbing my arms. I was beginning to believe the three of us had many things in common, but one that stood out—we were standing in Dillon’s home, brought together by fate.
“Is that your pimp outside?” Allie whispered.
I busted out laughing. They both joined in.
“No. But I should talk to him.” Kelton wasn’t going to stop until he got what he wanted. I couldn’t let Dillon deal with my problem. Besides, the cops would be here if they beat each other. I didn’t want trouble.
I shook off the tears, the nerves, even the pain poking at my heart, as best I could. I stuck out my chin and made my way out of the house and onto the porch. Allie and Bee were on my heels. I wanted to laugh, cry again, and hug them for sticking by my side. I mean, we didn’t even know each other.
Dillon and Kelton stopped talking. Kelton’s Adam’s apple bobbed.
“He’s hot,” Bee said close to my ear.
I was beginning to love this girl. She was so right. The dark-blue Henley underneath his leather jacket ignited his midnight-blue eyes.
“It’s okay, Dillon. We do need to talk,” I said as Allie grabbed onto my hand as though she wanted to protect me. I swear. I was a second from bawling like a starving baby.
“Girls,” Dillon said. “Let’s go inside.”
For a second, Allie and Bee didn’t move. Then Dillon raised his brow. The girls huffed at the same time before going back into the house.
Dillon came up to me. “If he gets out of line, knee him in the balls,” he whispered in my ear. “And I’m just inside if you need me.”
My heart swelled with so much emotion at my overnight family. I would’ve said thank you, but I didn’t think I could speak.
Once Kelton and I were alone, we didn’t say anything until a hard wind blew, rustling the branches on the oak tree in the front yard. Snow fluttered to the ground.
“Remember the tree house?” Kelton asked as he relaxed on the edge of the porch railing.
Lord, please help me through this conversation. I don’t want to cry. I don’t want to be rude. I don’t want to touch him. You cannot let me touch him. If I did, I’d be a goner. I was so screwed up. I wanted to disappear and never see him again. At the same time, I longed for him to hold me, kiss me, and tell me he still loved me.
“What…” I cleared my throat. “What do you want? I don’t owe you anything,” I said evenly.
He rubbed his neck. “Is one of those girls Gracie?”
I shook my head as I pressed my hands on the wood slats, willing the tears not to surface.
“How’s she doing?” he asked, his tone repentant.
“After seven years you want to know how she’s doing?” I mashed my hand into the siding hard, hoping it would swallow me up.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He knitted his eyebrows. “You moved away like we had the plague.”
I inhaled sharply, the cold morning air prickling on the way down. “Your family didn’t bother to check on her. My father contacted yours to see how your family was doing. He left all our information with your dad. After that we never heard from him.”
He straightened to his full six-foot height. “I didn’t know that. But why didn’t you return my emails or phone calls after you moved?”