The Inmate (12)

I glance at the back seat for support. Chelsea texted me she was bringing along Kayla Olivera as a sixth for Tim. Kayla is another cheerleader—dark and petite and very pretty. When I crane my neck, I feel perturbed by the fact that she is texting on her phone, oblivious to the volume of Chelsea’s horn.

“Hey, Kayla,” I say.

“Hey,” she says without looking up.

I clear my throat. “Thanks for coming.”

Kayla finally rips her eyes away from the screen of her phone. “Chelsea said Tim Reese is going to be there, right?”

I feel a jolt of surprise. I had figured that Chelsea had recruited some unsuspecting girl to our party to be foisted on Tim. But that isn’t the case at all. Kayla wants to be here. She’s interested in Tim. Apparently, when Tim sprouted up those six extra inches, he also became the kind of guy that girls take an interest in. I never noticed it before, but now I see it written all over Kayla’s face. Tim is hot now.

The idea of it doesn’t quite sit well with me.

I’m not sure why though. I’ve got Shane, after all.

“So is Shane’s mom gone?” Chelsea asks me. “Can we go over there?”

I reach into my purse and pull out my phone. Sure enough, there’s a text from Shane that came in about a minute ago: Just picked up Brandon and my mom is already on the road. Come on over!

I text back: Be there soon! Lope you!

His reply comes instantly: Lope you too.

Chelsea drives the extra block over to Tim’s house. I can see her getting ready to lean on the horn, but she doesn’t have to. Tim is already sitting on the front steps of his house, and he leaps to his feet when he sees Chelsea’s Beetle. Kayla watches him through the window, a smile playing on her lips.

Tim hops into the backseat of the car, next to Kayla. She scooches toward him as much as her seatbelt will allow. “Hey, Tim,” she says.

“Hey…” He frowns, obviously struggling to come up with her name. I turn and mouth “Kayla” as emphatically as I can but he can’t understand me. Finally, he takes a stab at it: “Kara?”

Kayla’s cheeks turn slightly pink. “Kayla.”

“Right. Sorry.” But he doesn’t sound sorry. He doesn’t sound like he cares at all. Tim has never liked cheerleaders. I could see him holding his tongue when I told him I was trying out.

“Where’s your bag?” Kayla asks him.

He frowns. “Bag?”

“We’re spending the night.” Kayla looks at Chelsea for confirmation. “Right?”

“That’s right, Timothy,” Chelsea says. “This is an overnight party. Didn’t Brooke tell you?”

“Yes…” He shrugs. “It’s fine. I don’t need anything.”

Kayla looks scandalized. “What about a change of clothes?”

Tim glances down at his jacket, which is hanging open to reveal a gray T-shirt and blue jeans. “I don’t know. I’ll just wear this tomorrow.”

“Boys.” Chelsea shoots me a look. “Sometimes I wonder what we see in them.”

I laugh along with Chelsea, but when I look back at Tim, there’s something in his expression that makes me a little uneasy. I told him we were spending the night. Back when we were much younger and such things were allowed, Tim used to come to my house for sleepovers, and he always brought along everything but the kitchen sink. Yes, a lot of time has passed since then, but it still seems strange that he would come to a sleepover at Shane’s house and not bring anything but himself. It doesn’t seem like Tim at all.

Maybe I don’t know Tim at all anymore.

Or maybe he doesn’t plan on staying.





Chapter 8


PRESENT DAY




I had hoped it would be months before I ran into Shane Nelson—if ever. But here I am, only on my second week, and here he is. Live and in the flesh.

The man who tried to kill me.

For a moment, I feel a tightening in my neck. The necklace he tried to choke me with cutting off my windpipe. I can’t breathe. I grab onto the door frame, taking deep breaths. I can’t let this get to me. I have to be a professional.

I’m okay. I’m okay. He can’t hurt me anymore.

Shane notices me a split second after I recognize him. He looks about as shocked as I felt. Maybe more, because he had no idea I was working here. He had been shuffling in the shackles, but when he sees me, he stops short, his mouth falling open.

“Come on.” Hunt gives him a shove to get him moving again. “We don’t have all day, Nelson. Move it.”

They keep walking until they reach the examining room, where they come to an abrupt halt. Shane’s brown eyes are filled with pain when they meet mine.

“Hi, I’m Brooke,” I say stiffly. I feel a little ridiculous introducing myself to the man I lost my virginity to, but here we are.

Before Shane can open his mouth, Hunt barks out, “This is Shane Nelson. Injury on the yard to his forehead.”

“Okay.” My voice sounds oddly calm considering my heart is doing jumping jacks. “Come on in, Mr. Nelson.”

Shane again seems frozen in place. Hunt has to give him another shove to get him moving again.

Climbing onto the examining table is tricky given he’s got his wrists and his ankles shackled. I’ve seen Hunt help other men in this position before, but he does nothing to help Shane. It takes him a few tries, but Shane manages to get up on the table.