Blood and Sympathy Read online

  On the ride home, I silently digested our meeting as I turned the music box over in my hands. From the corner of my eye, I saw Jeb sneaking curious glances in my direction.

  I gave him a tight smile and sighed before winding the tiny golden crank to listen to the song. "Braden's really quite talented," I said quietly, mesmerized by the melody as though hearing it for the first time.

  "He's a good boy," Jeb admitted. "He's impressionable, eager to make people happy, and wants to do the right thing. He'll be okay on the outside. His brother…" He stopped and shook his head. "I don't have much hope for that one."

  "What do you think, Jeb? Do you think people are born evil, or do you think society makes them that way?" If someone had asked me that question before I met Braden and got to know him through his letters, I would have had to think about it long and hard. I still didn't know the right answer.

  "I don't know, truthfully. Just like asking if, because the boys are twins, can one be good and the other be the complete polar opposite?" He took his eyes off the road and gave me a quick glance. "Take you and you sister, for instance. You're nothing alike."

  I frowned. "Olivia and I aren't twins."

  "Well no, but you were born close together and raised with the same rules. I'm not saying you're evil, Claire, I'm just pointing out the differences in your personalities." His fingers tapped restlessly on the steering wheel to some imaginary beat.

  "Right. Olivia's the good daughter and I'm… well, I'm not." I rolled my eyes at him. It wasn't anything I hadn't heard before. The corners of his mouth twitched into a smile.

  Rain was coming down in sheets by the time we got back to Hensteeth. Jeb pulled up the driveway, dropping me off at the door. I thanked him and ran to the house.

  The house was quiet, and even though I knew they were both home, I was relieved to see no one sitting in the kitchen when I came in. It was early, but I was tired. Sitting in a constant state of anxiety might have been great for my butt cheeks--since they had been clenched the whole time I was at WTJDC--but my energy was zapped.

  I wanted to sit down and pour out my feelings out in a letter to Braden, but I didn't want him to think I was desperate or grasping for something that was barely there, something as of yet indefinable. How could I fucking identify what I was thinking and feeling about him when I didn't even know? Nothing made sense.

  What he stirred inside of me was completely illogical. I'd only known him for a short time. Most of that was through the written word. But the way my stomach clenched, the way my heart squeezed inside my chest ... he got to me, and he probably didn't even realize it.

  "Ugh!" I groaned and headed down the hall to take a long shower. When I came out of the steam-filled bathroom, Olivia was leaning against the wall, staring pointedly at me, her arms crossed. "What?"

  "What's going on with you?"

  I rubbed my hair with a towel and narrowed my eyes at her. "Nothing."

  She followed me to my room, and as much as I wanted to slam the door in her prying face, I resisted. "I saw you get in Jeb Sayer's truck after church today."

  "Well, of course you did. You don't miss a thing, do you?" I said bitterly, draping the dampened towel over the back of my desk chair. "Not that it's any of your business, but I rode with Jeb to see Braden."

  She splayed her fingers across her chest and stared at me, eyes widened. "Does Daddy know?"

  "Not yet, but I imagine it won't be long before he finds out." I glanced at my watch. "How long will it take you to rush downstairs into his study and snitch on me? Again?"

  She frowned and sat on the corner of my bed. "I'm not telling him. Truthfully? I think it's badass."

  My jaw dropped. "Easy there. It wasn't all that amazing. We both spent a lot of time gawking at each other, with me blushing like a freaking horny girl seeing her very first penis."

  Olivia burst out laughing and collapsed against the mattress. After a few minutes, she composed herself and sat up. "So, is he cute?"

  My face heated. What the fuck was wrong with me? "You have no idea." I slowly shook my head and bit my wounded lip, wincing from the pain. I wiped away the blood with an index finger.

  "Now that we're in a sharing mood…" she started.

  I held up my hand. "No. Our five minutes of bonding is over for today. I'm beat."

  Her forehead wrinkled and she stood to leave. "Alistair?"

  I inhaled and blew out a noisy breath. "Yes."

  "He needs his ass kicked," she said before leaving the room.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Braden Sayer

  Uncle Jeb would make a final visit in May, and I would be out the first of June. I had no idea what Claire's impression of me had been, but I decided to write and thank her for visiting. I probably wasn't everything she expected. If I had the balls, I'd tell her she was what I thought she'd be and so much more, but I didn't want to sound pathetic.

  In all my years at WTJDC, I wanted nothing more than my freedom--a chance to live life like a normal man. Now that my release date was approaching I was a nervous fucking mess.

  My problem was that I didn't know how to live an ordinary, mostly unregulated life. There would be no one telling me when to get up, or barking orders of lights out, and I'd eat when I wanted. My rule-breaking thoughts were no more daring than telling myself I'd make my bed when, and if, I felt like it and not because it was demanded of me.

  The thing I feared most was also something I'd desired all these years: How to behave like a free man. Sadly, there were no rulebooks or manuals written--that I knew of--showing me how to do that.

  Claire had asked if I was crossing the days off the calendar. I hadn't been. Until after I met her, then I thought it didn't seem like such a bad idea.

  Before I started to write, I closed my eyes and pictured her sweet face and imagined I could smell the scent of cherries.

  Dear Claire,

  I wanted to be sure and let you know that it was really nice to meet you. I have to apologize for not being talkative. I didn't think I was a shy person, but meeting you, having you across the table, well, it stole the words right out of my mouth.

  I'd be honored if you'd ride along with Jeb when he comes to bring me back to Hensteeth. If you don't want to, I'll understand. Getting so close to graduation and all, I bet you have a lot more important things on your schedule than spending time with me.

  I hope you didn't get into trouble when you got home. The last thing I want is for you to get into hot water because of me.

  It's okay to stick to your guns if you believe you're right, but it's also best to admit you're wrong when you are.

  You could never bore me. I probably shouldn't admit this, but just sharing the same space with you is nice.

  I've started to mark the days off until I get out, like you suggested. I'm anxious, but in so many ways, I'm as scared as a rabbit.

  Mentally, I've started that bucket list. I'm too embarrassed to write it down just yet, in case one of these assholes around here were to get a hold of it and laugh at all the things I've never been able to do before.

  We will have to share our stories about Devil's Fork Lake. Maybe you know a few that I don't, and I bet I have one or two that you've never heard. You're not afraid of the dark, are you? I didn't used to be, but the nights here are the worst. Hearing the newest inmates cry at night twists my gut. I was once in their shoes and I know how it feels. It's got to be the worst feeling in the world. I don't remember exactly where it is, but my brother and I used to hide out in a cave around there somewhere.

  I hope you liked the music box. I had a hard time picking out a design, but my shop teacher told me that Claire means clear and bright, and I figured the sun was something a person sees when there aren't any clouds in the sky. The song sort of went along with it naturally. If you don't like it, it's okay. I can make you something else later.

  I'd be honored to hold your hand while you get your tattoo.

  Counting down the days until I see your pretty smi
le.

  Braden

  I walked down to the lobby and put my letter to Claire in the outgoing mail basket. There was a signup sheet on the counter for volunteers needed to help build a shelter at one of the local parks in May. Doing that was always hard work, and depending on which guards they sent along, most of the time they made sure you didn't have any time to fuck off. Most of the guys put in for it so they could have a change of scenery. I scanned the names and was surprised to see Brogan on the list.

  When I got back to my room, Brogan was leaning against the wall watching me. I pushed through the door, trying my best to ignore him. I didn't want any trouble, and sure as shit, that's exactly what he had in mind.

  "Since when did you get to be too important to talk to your brother?" he asked.

  Since you became such a prick, I wanted to say. I swallowed the smart-assed comment. "What do you want, Brogan?"

  He followed me inside, his eyes darting around the small space before coming to rest on my letters from Claire. I reached for them, but I wasn't fast enough. He snatched them away from me and grinned. "Damn, these smell good enough to eat."

  "Give 'em back," I said through clenched teeth.

  "Claire Copeland. Claire Copeland. Why's that name sound so familiar?" He scratched the back of his head and thought for a minute. All of a sudden, realization lit up his face and he started laughing. "Bro, you better wake up and smell the fucking coffee. First off, even if she were to look twice at your pathetic ass, her daddy would have your hide if you came within a hundred yards of her."

  I squeezed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose. "It's not like that. Claire and I are just writing letters back and forth."

  "That right? I heard there was some hot chick up here visiting you. I told the boys they had to be mistaken. No hot chic could possibly want anything to do with the likes of you."

  "Brogan, give the letters back, and leave. I don't need you starting any of your shit." I held out my hand, hoping he'd just give me the letters and go without causing trouble.

  "Brogan!" the guard's voice roared.

  Brogan's attention shot toward the hallway where one of the guards stood with his hands on his hips, giving him a death glare. "I was just leaving," he mumbled.

  He started out of the room, and I said, "Brogan? The letters?"

  He opened his mouth but quickly snapped it shut before tossing the envelopes onto my bed and going.

  I let loose a shuddering breath and collapsed on the mattress as soon as they were out of sight. I hated him knowing anything about my life, and I couldn't wait to get as far from him as possible. I didn't trust him any further than I could throw him.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Claire Copeland

  In the weeks following my visit with Braden, I didn't have a lot of free time with graduation approaching. But I managed to zip off a quick letter to let him know that despite my inability to speak in complete sentences, I had really enjoyed meeting him.

  Dear Braden,

  It was really nice to meet you, too. You don't need to apologize for not being talkative. It wasn't just you. For whatever reason, the cat seemed to have gotten my tongue that day. Trust me when I tell you, I am normally never that quiet. If you doubt that, just ask Olivia.

  I would love to see the grin on your face when you walk out of WTJDC as a free man. Of course I want to be there! There is a lot going on with graduation, but I promise to make time for you.

  I didn't get into trouble when I got home, Dad didn't even notice I was gone, and Olivia was uncharacteristically happy for me. I think she envies me a little and wants to live vicariously through me. I don't need your help pissing off my dad; believe me when I tell you, I am more than capable of doing that all by myself. J

  Standing up for what I believe in has never been an issue. Learning when to say when is another story. There are times when it's best just to swallow my pride and suck it up like a big girl. Ha!

  You've inspired me to start my own bucket list. I have written it down, but no one has seen it but me. Maybe we can share our lists with each other. I'll help you with yours, and you can help me with mine.

  No, I'm not afraid of the dark. Some of my best times have been after dark. Olivia and I have never seen anything creepy running the trails at the lake, but sometimes homeless people hang out there. They're mostly harmless bums, and they don't stick around too long, since the park rangers keep a pretty close watch and chase them off before they can get too comfortable.

  The music box is beautiful. If Claire means clear and bright, what does Braden mean?

  Looking forward to seeing you again on June first!

  Claire

  I felt like I was standing on the edge of a giant precipice, that my life was about to change in inconceivable ways. I looked forward to new beginnings--being out of high school--finally. I hadn't made up my mind what I was going to do as far as college was concerned, much to my dad's dismay.

  Summer was meant for fun. I vowed to spend every day living my life to the fullest, and if that meant deciding whether to jump or stay put, I was hopeful that I'd get a sign from the infinite unknown to help me make up my mind.

  In some ways, Braden and I were a lot alike. He would be putting one foot in front of the other and looking for his wings along the way. His advantage over me was that he was coming to the edge with a clean slate, whereas my board had been written and erased so many times, I wasn't sure anyone would ever be able to read and understand what I was trying to do.

  Though I was in no hurry to commit to any kind of plan, there was always a niggling tickle in the back of my mind reminding me that time waits for no one, and I could run but I couldn't hide.

  I put in my application to help out in the bakery over the summer, and I was looking forward to making some extra cash so that I could maybe see about buying my own car. So what if I told Dad I wanted a job to save up some money to help with furthering my education. I don't think I made a very convincing case, but if he didn't believe my story, he never said. I accidentally on purpose neglected to mention the job was at the bakery. We both knew how he felt about my pursuing something as nonsensical as working in a kitchen for a living. He'd reminded me many times that a woman's place was in the kitchen -- only if her husband could afford to keep her there.

  First, my graduation.

  Second, Braden's homecoming.

  PART TWO

  MAY 2014

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Claire Copeland

  It stopped raining long enough for the graduation ceremony to be held on the football field instead of in the all-purpose room. Ours wasn't a large class, but it was the biggest in the history of Hensteeth High. Most of my classmates had attended school here every year from kindergarten through the twelfth grade.

  Having the last name Copeland earned me the good fortune of being one of the first students to cross the makeshift stage and accept my diploma. Being in front of a group of people made me nervous as hell, and the warm sun beaming down didn't help matters. I shifted in the metal folding chair, trying to blot the bead of sweat trickling down my spine.

  "Claire Copeland," Everett McLaughlin, the high school principal, bellowed with his baritone voice. I swallowed and prayed I wouldn't fall on my ass in front of the whole town as I made my way up the stairs to collect the tiny piece of paper that said I'd made it. Finally, I was free.

  Dad and Olivia were the only two people here on my behalf. Other than a few stray cousins somewhere in parts of the country unknown, they were my only family. I sought them out when I had my diploma in my sweaty little hands, as if to tell them, "See nothing to worry about, I made it after all."

  Dad wore an expression that may have been a smile. I wasn't entirely sure, since it was something he seldom did for my benefit. Even my sister the drama queen dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a tissue and gave me a thumbs up. She mouthed, "I love you," which almost made me misty-eyed.

  As soon as the ceremony was over,
I ditched the cap and gown and changed into something more comfortable. My graduation party was held in the basement of Friend's Church. I stuck around long enough to satisfy my dad, and went to get the keys to the SHO from Olivia.

  "Now, I don't have to remind you not to drink and drive, right?" Olivia asked, dangling the keys in front of my face like a carrot on a stick.

  I snatched them from her and said, "You know me better than that."

  "I do, and that's why I asked."

  "I'm taking my sleeping bag. It's warm enough to sleep in the car if I get too drunk to drive."

  It was a tradition to make the rounds, stopping at every classmate's house to congratulate them before moving on to the next place. Good thing it was such a small class, or it would seriously cut into my "fuck school let's get drunk" plans for the night. The last stop for everyone was Trevor Mills' place.

  Trevor's parents owned half the county, and they'd agreed to have a party on their property, but there were rules. Once you drove through the front gates, you couldn't leave unless you were totally sober or you had a designated driver to take you home. Since I didn't plan on leaving until the sun came up, it wouldn't be a problem for me.

  I'd maybe had two cups of beer, three tops, and I was ready to make my way out to the Mills' party.

  "Claaaiiirre." I recognized that voice. The way he drawled it out, making it sound like "Clay-air," annoyed the fuck out of me?

  I turned toward him. "What do you want, Alistair?" He was completely shitfaced and leering at me like a dog eyeing a t-bone. I reached into my jeans for the car keys, ready to make a hasty retreat if he decided to do something ignorant.

  "Talk to me, Clay-air," he said, grabbing his crotch. "You know you want some of the snake."