“Why do you think you’re going to be pissed off?”
“Because I know my cousin.” She shrugged. “I love her, but manipulation is just what she does.”
A warm hand touched her cheek and she looked up. “Are you okay?”
“I can handle it.” She covered his hand with hers. “I’m used to this. Whatever happens, though . . . I need to talk with you. I can’t handle what’s going on with us . . . well, that’s bullshit.”
A line appeared between his brows and she turned her face into his hand, kissed him. “I can . . . I just don’t want to. Being without you makes me miserable, Trey.”
Something moved through his eyes, dark, fleeting, gone so fast. Then he cupped her face in both hands and brushed a quick, soft kiss against her lips, both eyes, her brow. “We’ll talk. We have what matters, Ressa . . . everything else is just smoke.”
Then he moved back. “You need to go.” He took her elbow and escorted her around the house. Both of the kids had cornered Sebastian—and Travis, it appeared—on the porch, jabbering a mile a minute. Neeci had relaxed pretty fast.
Trey let go but before he moved away, he stroked a hand down her back. “I hope today goes okay.”
A lump lodged itself in her throat. “Thanks.”
She lingered only long enough to give Neeci a quick hug and then she left.
None of this was going to be any easier by taking her time.
Chapter Twenty-six
“I’m getting out soon.”
Ressa studied Kiara’s face across the table.
So far, the visit had gone pretty much the way they normally did.
Why didn’t you bring Neeci?
Does she still remember me?
What have you told her about me?
Can you bring her next week?
That had taken up a good thirty minutes.
Now they were moving on to why Kiara wanted them there.
Ressa managed, almost, not to react. She glanced over at her aunt and then said, “I know you’re up for parole. How come you’re so certain you’ll get out this time?”
“I’ve served four years. I was sentenced to seven. I know how this works.” She leaned in, elbows braced on the table. A dark blue cloth wrapped around her braids, holding them back from her face. She’d slimmed down, almost too much, and her slim arms were roped with muscle. “I haven’t caused any trouble and I’ve been taking college courses since I got in. They aren’t going to keep trying to hold me in here—they’re all but looking for reasons to let people out right now.”
She shrugged, flicking her fingers like it was a done deal.
It might well be. Overcrowded prisons was nothing new. “Okay. Assuming you’re right, what do you plan to do?”
“I’m taking Neeci back.”
“No.” Ressa folded her arms over her chest and met her cousin’s dark, flat gaze dead on. “You signed away parental rights almost five years ago. She barely knows you. You can’t provide for her the way I can. You can’t give her a stable life.”
Ressa didn’t want to think about the shape Kiara had been in by the time everything imploded in her cousin’s life. It hadn’t been pretty. Ressa had been the one to focus, calm down, and get a grip on life, while Kiara lived for the next big deal, the next big score . . . the next big anything.
It was the next big anything that had landed her here.
“You already had one chance to prove you could straighten up,” she said softly. “You couldn’t do it. That’s why you’re here now. You can’t take care of her. I can.”
“I am her mother,” Kiara said, her voice harsh.
“Only by blood.” Ressa felt her chest constrict. Panic tried to take over. She wasn’t giving Neeci up—it wasn’t just love that drove her now, although that was a huge part of it. She looked at her cousin and saw a pit of chaos. Worse, she saw herself—she saw Neeci growing up the way she had, never having any stability or normalcy or even a parent who just loved.
How often had Neeci cried herself to sleep just after visiting her mother? Those short visits had done more harm than good and not because of the environment, but because Kiara couldn’t stop playing head games, not even with her child.
No.
“I am the one who raised her,” she said, keeping her voice calm. “I am the one who held her through every nightmare, nursed her through every cold. I’m the one who has answered all the hard questions and listened to all the crying. I am her mother in every way that counts, Kiara. You getting out of here doesn’t mean you’re entitled to jerk her around the same way you’ve done with everybody else.”
“You selfish bitch,” Kiara whispered. For a moment, it almost seemed that tears glittered, but then Kiara blinked and her eyes were just hard and cold once more. “She’s my baby and I have a right to raise her.”
“And how are you going to do that?” Ressa demanded. “You have never held a stable job in your life. You have no training. You don’t even like to work—your idea of working is blackmailing lonely old men out of money or swiping credit cards from some of your johns!”
“Ressa,” Angeline said, her voice firm.
“No.” Ressa shot her aunt a look. “I’m not listening to this. I’m—”
“Mama.” Kiara started to sob, laying her head on the table. “How can you let her talk to me like this? Talk to her. Please. Ress will listen to you. She always did. Tell her how much I need my baby. I can’t face life outside this place without her . . .”
“What about what Neeci needs!” The words ripped out of her and Ressa didn’t realize how loud she’d been until an odd silence rippled through the room, other inmates and their visitors going quiet as they turned to look at Ressa.
Conversation resumed after a few seconds and Ressa had to force herself to take a deep breath before she spoke again. “What about what Neeci needs, Kiara? A mother who will be there for her? They let you out on parole and what did you do but go right back to the same old thing?”
“I had a child to feed!” Kiara glared at her.
“The money Bruce gave you every year was more than I made in two.” Ressa fisted her hands, staring at her cousin with so much rage, so much confusion. “You got a ridiculous amount of money every single year—”
“I should have had it all!” Kiara shouted.
The venom on her cousin’s face, in her voice left Ressa shaken. Still, she shook her head. “But that’s not the point. That was plenty of money to take care of a baby, Kiara. And you blew it on drugs . . . while your baby went hungry.”
Kiara flinched. Then she sagged. “You . . . guys, you don’t understand. I miss her. I love my little girl. I need her, okay? Mama, Ress, please . . .”
If Kiara had been looking at Angeline, then she might have realized she’d messed up.
As it was, it took several moments of awkward silence before she turned her head to look at the mostly silent Angeline.
When she finally did, Angeline just shook her head.
“Mama.” She swallowed. “Please. Y’all don’t understand—”
“I’m afraid you don’t,” Angeline said, shaking her head before Kiara could get anything else out. “You sit there and you cry about how you need that child. But it’s not about you. It can’t be about you. It’s about her. It has to be about her and what she needs. She’s not even six years old. Do you even have a clue how to take care of that little girl?”
Kiara stared at Angeline and then turned her head, looked at Ressa. With cool calculation, she reached up and swiped at the tears. “I can figure it out. You just need to get ready. My parole meeting is coming up and I will get out. And soon. Once I do, I want my daughter. You really want to fight me over this? You want to be the one telling her that she can’t be with her mama?”