myself inside a cell in medium security at the state prison that the fear set in. I’d been there a week and some sick, twisted bastards that haunted the halls were eyeing me like I wasn’t human, but just a walking, talking orifice for them to stick something into.
“You’re too pretty for here, son,” a biker warned me in the cafeteria the first day. “Find yourself some protection, or you ain’t gonna last.”
It was like something out of a bad prison movie, except it was real. It was happening. To me.
And I was fucking scared all the time and pretending like I wasn’t.
Walking into the visitation room, seeing Jane sitting behind the Plexiglas of a visitor booth, I felt my feet touch the ground for the first time in a week. Lying in my cell at night, I missed her as much as I missed not being afraid.
I despised that she was seeing me like this.
She gave me a sad smile and that cute dimple in her cheek eased the ache in my chest as I sat down opposite her and reached for the phone.
“Hey, baby,” she said as she pressed her palm flat to the thick barrier.
I placed my palm over hers, wishing I could feel her skin. “Doe.”
She let out a shuddering breath. “How are you?”
“I’m okay,” I lied.
Jane knew. “Jamie.”
There was no way I would tell her anything that might keep her awake at night. “How’s it going with you? You and Cassie find a place?”
After my arrest, we couldn’t post bail, so I’d waited in remand. My case went to court quicker than expected, probably because Steadman wanted me there as fast as possible. My lawyer wanted me to plead guilty; I told my lawyer to go fuck himself. So I went to trial, was convicted, and ended up with a longer sentence for standing up for myself.
Jane had given up the small apartment we’d only just moved into and shacked up with her friend Cassie from art school in her one-bedroom apartment. After my sentencing, they got a place together.
“Yeah. We found an apartment in Pomona. Near school.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Jamie, I don’t want to talk about the apartment. I want to talk about you.”
Frustration blew through me. “About what? There’s nothing to talk about.”
“I need to know you’re okay.”
“Do you love me?”
Jane blinked at the seemingly random question. “You know I do. You’re my everything.”
I let out a slow exhalation. “Then I’m okay. He thought he took everything from me … but he didn’t take you, and you’re all that fucking matters. So, I’m okay.”
She squeezed her eyes closed.
“It’ll get easier, Doe,” I promised her.
I hoped it was a promise I could keep.
With the rage that stirred inside me, I wasn’t sure I could. I wasn’t sure I could live with myself if I let this go once I got out. My sentence was seven years, but my lawyer told me they’d let me out in five if I behaved myself and kept my head down.
“They’ve got classes here. Computing, stuff like that. There’s even a workshop. I’ll keep busy,” I promised.
“Can you write?”
“There’s a computer lounge. I can write there.”
“Good.” She nodded, seeming somewhat appeased.
“Now tell me about you. I want to know what you’re up to.”
I let Jane’s voice soothe me as she talked about her sophomore classes at Pomona. The projects she was working on. Dramas unfolding with her friends. That stuff seemed juvenile to us both now, I knew, but it was a distraction.
A distraction from the knowledge that we wouldn’t be able to touch each other for at least five years. Sometimes that thought took my breath away.
What would Skye think of me here?
That I’d been a naive, stupid, impulsive asshole, that’s what.
A moronic kid who had no idea what he was doing when he broke into Foster Steadman’s office and confronted him about Skye and what Jane had found in her journals. I wanted to kill him. I wanted to rip his fucking dick off so he could never hurt another woman again.
I knew I would do just that when I grabbed the letter opener off his desk. His security arrived before I could touch him and threw me out.
It was enough to calm my ass down. As was the tongue-lashing from Jane. We would do it right, she said. We’d take the journals to the police and they’d investigate Steadman.
We went out that night. Trying to distract ourselves. Skye had left a far more substantial amount of