I snatch it.
“Hello?” My voice cracks. I’m not even sure I’m fully awake.
“Charlotte,” says that deep, raspy voice I love so much.
But he sounds distant, hollow. There’s shouting in the background. A metal clang. Echoes.
Then—
“I got arrested.”
The words hit like a car crash. No warning. No screeching brakes.
“What? Are you serious?” My chest caves in. I can’t think. I just blurt, “No way! I can’t have three people behind bars now! I’m alone here! Why! What happened, babe?”
He’s quiet. Detached.
“Meghan said I broke the restraining order. I know you’re upset. But—”
“Upset!” I sob into the phone. Loud, ugly sobs.
“Charlotte.” His voice hardens, more bossy. “I need you to stop crying and listen. There’s an envelope in the nightstand. Cash. Enough to cover next month’s mortgage. You’re starting work this week, so you can take it from here.”
“What?” My voice is a breath. A protest. “Why are you talking like this? Like you won’t be here…”
He pauses. Then says it like a final verdict:
“I can’t come back to you.”
My breath catches. “What—”
“It’s a probation violation,” he replies flatly. “They’re making me serve the rest of my original sentence… plus extra time for breaking the terms. No early release. I’ll be in prison for a long time.”
“No. No! Don’t say that.” I shoot to my feet, buzzing in a circle, not sure where I’m trying to go. I trip on Wilbur. He squeals. I squeal, too: “Grayson! This can’t be happening! Why would Meghan do this? Did you… did you really go near her?”
“She’s pissed. Her pill supply got cut off. Brax has connections. Scared her dealer off. She blamed me.”
A cold shiver runs through me.
There will be consequences.
Brax’s words. This was his plan. Meghan was the weapon. Now Grayson’s locked away. He’s not dead or bleeding, but ripped from my life all the same. Just like he wanted.
I choke on a sob. “We’ll fight it. We’ll get you out.”
“No,” he says sharply. “We can’t. But you got a career now. I’m proud of you. You’ll be fine. After the next payment, the house is saved. And with you working again, you can petition to get Atticus back.”
I balk, loud and outraged. “Stop talking like that! Why aren’t you more upset?” I whimper. “Why are you acting like this doesn’t matter?”
He exhales hard. Almost like he’s doesn’t want to say it. But he does.
“I told you to have higher standards. Pick someone without legal problems next time, okay?”
My heart drops and I’m speechless.
Pick someone else? How can he say that!
“And it’s better it ends like this,” he mutters, voice ragged now, “than the way I always saw it ending.”
