Truthfully? I wish putting a person in stocks in the middle of the town square were still a legal punishment.
“Why the fu—”
Bette’s raised hand cuts off E’s curse.
“But if you’re asking me if I can look at myself in the mirror every day and be able to smile at what I see”—I nod—“then, yes.” I look past my sister-in-law’s shoulder and meet my brother’s steady gaze. “The only way for there to be a chance of Liam being held accountable for what he did is if we take things to trial. Yes, there’s a lot of evidence and witnesses on our side, but I won’t survive going through that media circus again.”
I see the moment E concedes, a shadow falling over his features as he recalls the shit-show of the trial after Dad was killed.
“If we do it this way, we prevent the Parkers from spinning tales about how their precious boy is the real victim of a family raised by a convicted killer and drunk. Plus…” I inhale deeply, my chest puffing out with the action. I promised Mase I wouldn’t put myself in danger trying to keep him safe. With this plan, I can honestly say I’m able to keep that promise. “Working in the clause about paying off Christina Hale while serving her with papers about bringing a slander suit against her if she decides to proceed with her lies takes away Liam’s prized puppet.”
While E made calls to Jordan Donovan and his lawyer to put our plan in motion, Bette and Pops cooked up a fest epic enough for his firehouse.
JT, T, and I are currently “sleeping” our food comas off on the couch while Little Giants plays on the television. T has her head resting on a pillow propped against her brother’s leg, and my feet make themselves at home on JT’s opposite thigh while I use a snoring Herkie as my pillow.
The movie cuts off as Becky is climbing the shelves in the supermarket to creep on Junior throwing rolls of toilet paper like footballs, the picture on the screen filling with the picture of Mase and me kissing after the Penn State game.
JT, proving once again why he earned the title of my ultimate bestie, stretches out his leg, using his toe to press the button on the remote to accept the video call.
“Hey boys,” I say as the faces of my boyfriend and our friends come into focus.
“Hey, Skittles.” Mase flashes his dimples, making me wish I could reach through the screen and bury a finger in their depths.
I shift against Herkie, who lifts his head and licks the entire right side of my face, while I wait the minute or so it takes for everyone to exchange greetings.
“What’s up, guys?” I ask, nonchalant. I’m pretty sure I know the reason for the call, but I don’t want to tip my hand if they haven’t received the packages I have confirmed were delivered to the concierge at their hotel. Because Mase has no idea we’re planning on flying out early—arriving on Christmas Eve and not late Christmas night—I wanted to make sure they got their presents now.
Each one of them are now proud owners of yet another Kayla Dennings-selected funny shirt, these in a football theme.
“I do have one question.” Mase holds up a single finger in front of the camera.
“Yeah?” I twirl a lock of hair. “What’s that, babe?”
The way he bites his lip tells me I’m not fooling him one bit.
“How’d you do it?”
“Do what?” I double down.
“Skittles,” he warns. “Don’t play stupid. You’re too smart—it doesn’t suit you.”
It’s not something that should make me swoon, but it does. It may be a stereotype, but not once has my hot jock made me feel bad for my nerdy girl tendencies. Quite the opposite, in fact. The only time he complains is when I don’t let him distract me with his version of “studying”.
“Did you know…” I sit up, folding my legs under me, facing the camera head-on. “Concierges at hotels are very helpful?”
“It would appear so.” The twinkle in his seafoam green eyes promises retribution for being a smartass the next time he sees me. I can’t wait until tomorrow.
“Well…” I clap my hands. “Don’t leave me in suspense.” I try to make eye contact with each of them. “Did you like your gifts?”
“Hell yeah, Smalls. Check it out.” Kev rises to stand, showing me he has on his LINEMAN. Because Impenetrable Wall isn’t an official