Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Mine.
He still considered me his. After everything. There was none of the blame I expected, felt I deserved, blame that certain sections of the country were sure I deserved. No, none of that came from Kane.
“I’m scared,” I admitted in a small whisper. “I’m terrified for you.” That was putting it lightly. I wouldn’t tell him about my nightmares, about sitting in the bottom of my shower, staring blankly at the tiled walls.
“Good,” he said simply. “Means there’s a chance of you being there waiting for me when I walk out of here.”
“I’ll be waiting for you,” I vowed without a second thought.
“Promise?”
I heard it then. The fractures in his tone, the way it wavered. The strong, cocky formidable man in front of me faded out for a moment, and the vulnerable, abandoned and unloved boy appeared in his place.
This time it was me who tightened the hold on our intertwined hands.
“Promise,” I whispered.
Sentencing was the next day.
The way this case had been fast tracked was very rare, Victoria told me. A good thing, considering bail had been refused.
He was given a year.
A year.
My blood drained from my body, and the whole world tilted when the ruling came down.
I noted the fury on Victoria’s face, her opening her mouth—presumably to argue with the judge—the judge’s sniveling, beady eyes narrowing on her, ruddy cheeks turning redder with obvious fury.
For the life of me, I didn’t know what they were saying.
My eyes were on Kane. They hadn’t left me since the ruling was announced.
He crooked his finger to me playfully, amongst the ruckus, as if we weren’t in a courtroom where one year of his life was just stolen from him but at a crowded party where we’d been separated for a few seconds.
Though my mind was reeling, my body knew what to do—obey Kane.
I was already at the front of the courtroom, I just had to stand and walk a few steps. My limbs were jelly as I walked woodenly to him.
When I was within grabbing distance, Kane grasped the back of my neck and drew me to him. Our mouths met, tongues clashing, the world around us long forgotten. It was just me and him.
For one blissful, magical moment.
Until our private world was interrupted, roughly and violently… the banging of a gavel.
“We gotta take you now,” a bailiff standing behind Kane said, almost apologetically.
Kane didn’t move, his lips brushing mine.
“You’ve got to let her go,” he urged.
“No, I don’t. Not ever,” Kane murmured to me. “You promise you’ll be there?”
“I promise,” I whispered.
“Then I’ll see you. Love you, Chef.” He gave my neck a squeeze then stepped back.
My body already ached from his absence. And it was the hardest thing I ever did, watching them take him away.
A terrified and knowing voice told me I’d never see him again.
Fourteen
It was only a handful of days later that my world imploded. Again.
Kane had been transferred to the prison where he’d be serving his time. The judge had said, given his ‘light’ sentence, violent, prior offenses and ‘nature of the crime,’ he deserved to be in a maximum-security prison. With violent offenders. Murderers.
Victoria had fought that tooth and nail. She’d ended up being held in contempt when she wouldn’t let the judge shut her up. She’d then promised me she’d use all of her resources to ensure that Kane did not remain there.
I'd nodded, believing she intended to use any and all connections and talent she had, but I’d accepted that the system had spoken. Even though it was horrible, I reminded myself that many men and women were given much, much harsher sentences for lesser crimes on account of their socioeconomic status, skin color or religion. Kane was, as hard as it was to swallow, getting off easy in some respects.
He was being moved to a maximum-security prison two hours outside of the city. She assured me that it would take a while for transport to get him situated, then I would be able to visit.
“Not that he’ll be there long enough for you to make more than one visit,” she promised.
Two hours away and locked in a cell. That’s where Kane would be. For a year. I couldn’t hold any food down at the thought of it.
The media was crazier than ever after the sentencing. Though the reception to me and my story was mixed, the outrage over the obvious bias of the sentencing was almost universal. People were outraged that one of their favorite celebrities was getting put away while a loud few were praising the judge for punishing violent criminals regardless of their status. Then there were those, who rightly so, were trying to get stories of loved ones heard who were locked away for longer than Kane for nonviolent crimes. It hadn’t just become a pop culture news story; it also became the springboard for all sorts of conversations about the justice system and how it operated.