Phoebe
I wake just before my alarm, which has to be a good omen, right? It’s been a week since my complete and total meltdown. Things are looking up, actually. Ian says I needed the reset. He says my body needed to purge all that negativity and anxiety. And maybe he was right. I mean, he’s getting an advanced degree in Psych. I feel like he would know.
I crawl out of bed and stretch, careful not to wake Ty. His classes start at 11 today, and my boyfriend likes his sleep. But hey, I can’t throw too much shade. I slept for a solid five hours. That’s got to be a record of some kind.
I take a quick shower and wrap my wet hair in a messy top-knot, then slip on fresh yoga pants. I dig around for a shirt, but I accidentally packed a short-sleeved tee, and that just won’t do. Spotting a Bainbridge University hoodie on the arm of Ty’s couch, I snag it. He’s got a million of these, and surely won’t miss this one. Besides, he wouldn’t want me to freeze, right?
I take a last look at his sleeping form and pinch myself. I’m lucky as hell to have found Ty Marshall.
***
Ty
Before I even open my eyes, I want this day to be over. My mother and Rob are demanding a meeting. And this time, I’m going. I typically make a habit of avoiding them at all costs, but I can’t do that today, no matter how much I want to.
And yet, here I am, turning into the lot on Bryant Street.
I park and walk to the address I was given. I take the elevator to the 7th floor and am directed to a conference room.
My mother’s husband--because that’s who Rob has always been to me--is sitting behind his desk, looking smug. My mother is in the chair across from him. They look relieved to see me, likely hopeful that I’ve finally given in and agreed to play the part of second son in their desperate attempt to look like a sympathetic family in the eyes of the media.
Yea, no.
It’s not lost on me that neither of them ever wanted me. Rob kicked my mom out when he found out she was pregnant with me. It never crossed his mind to, I don’t know, adopt me? Raise me as his child? And my mom is no better. At the first sign he’d take her back, she readily agreed to give my dad full custody, no visitation.
I was nothing more than a nuisance, a reminder of an indiscretion, until they needed me. Until their perfect son was not so perfect. Until their lawyers thought it would be a good idea to parade me around and make us look like a family.
But really? It doesn’t matter. These people are not my family.
“Ty, dear. You’re just in time. I’m glad you decided to come support your family, finally. And you’ve received guidance on what exactly to discuss at this meeting? Because, you know, I’d hate to have miscommunication affect something important, like your trust. You do seem to rely on that fund for your education...” What is she playing at? Does she know about my work around, or is she simply toying with me, wanting to keep me in line by holding the purse strings?
I’m so sick of her games. I smile wryly. “I almost decided not to come.”
“Oh. Well. It doesn’t really matter, does it? The important thing is that you're here.”
I shrug. “I guess.”
“Ty, this is important, for you and for Brett. It’s imperative that you cooperate. Your actions affect a lot of people, Ty, not just you. It amazes me that you can be so selfish.”
A few weeks ago, I’d have gone off at her words, fed right into the bait she dangled. But not anymore. I can’t play their game. I’ll get a job, take out a loan, sell my car. I’ll do anything necessary to keep Phoebe’s scholarship intact. But I won’t lie.
Someone knocks lightly on the door and says, “The car service is here.” We file into the hall, take the elevator back downstairs, and climb into the black car that’s waiting to take us to the prison.
Today is Brett’s parole hearing.
We arrive at the judiciary center and walk through the metal detectors. Soon enough, we’re seated in a large room with long tables. My mother and Rob follow their lawyers, and I follow them. We’ve been told Dylan James’s family has declined to attend today’s meeting, and for that, I’m eternally grateful. Booker’s right, I need to come clean. I need to tell Phoebe everything. But first, I need to do this.
The hearing proceeds exactly the way my mother’s lawyers said it would. Just before we’re ready to begin, Brett is led in, wearing handcuffs. I take a moment to look him over, maybe some part of me is looking for a shred of humanity, an ounce of remorse.
I find neither.
The hearing proceeds on and the mediator asks for a character witness. My mother looks at me, her gaze sharp, clearly communicating that I need to fall in line in order to continue receiving access to my trust.
I take a seat and face the attorney.
“Please state your name and relationship to Mr. Brett Givens.”
“My name is Ty Marshall. We’re half brothers.”
