"He looked out for me. For Sydney. For everyone."
"He's a good guy. Okay? I know." She rubs my back. "This isn't the end of the world, sis. He isn't dead, which is more than can be said for his gang. He's alive, and he'll be out of prison one day soon."
But I miss him, so badly. And not being there to comfort him is killing me. How would I feel if I'd been through everything he has? How would I have reacted, what would I have done to protect my family?
He's the strongest person I know, but I'm so scared he'll give up-on me, on himself, on life. He's just a number in the system now, a mistake to be corrected.
And he's everything to me.
The sentencing hearing is over. A year behind bars.
Jarett is getting transferred to prison today, and I swear, I'm getting an ulcer from all this. I haven't been able to talk to him in days, not since the trial, and that time he'd sounded so defeated it broke my heart all over again.
I'm trying to see the positive in this, but it's hard. He's not in the gang anymore, sure, but won't prison life destroy him? You hear all sorts of things, about drugs and rape and violence. He doesn't have to keep his promise to his mom about taking care of Sebastian anymore, but does he feel he has something left to live, to fight for?
Does he think of me? Does he want to come back to me? Will he be okay?
Will he be the Jarett I know when he's released?
Truth is, the only plus I can see is that I can visit him now. Prisoners get visiting hours.
And I'll be there.
Small consolation, but every little good thing seems huge right now. Seeing him is all I can think about. I have filled out the inmate visitor application, I have been approved.
Soon, I'll see him, maybe touch him, if they allow it.
I feel as if I'm not really alive without him. Every minute spent away from him hurts. Everything I want to share with him, every joke and every song, feels like a burden now.
At least, Sydney looks better. I'd ask her about Kash, but I can't pretend to care right now, not when I feel like my whole world is caving in.
"Chin up," Sydney tells me. "Didn't you just tell me you'll be seeing him tomorrow? I thought you'd be happy."
"I am. But I'm also afraid. Of what he'll say. Of how he's changed. What he thinks. What he feels."
Her mouth turns down at the corners. "Oh man. You really are in love."
"I thought you said it was obvious."
"It was." She hums, hiding behind her coffee mug. "I just don't think I've ever seen a person in love before. Like, really in love, the sort where you pine away and live for the next time you'll see them."
My hands fist in my lap. "I'm not pining away."
"No?" She perks up. "Then maybe you'll come with me tonight? There's this-"
"No."
She slumps back in her seat. "You need to start living again, Gigi."
I flinch at her words. "I'm living, I'm-"
"No, you're not. You flunked your last test. You're not studying. Or partying. Or eating much. You never smile anymore."
"I'm sad, okay? What do you want me to say? Plus, you told me you were done going to bars and parties, getting yourself into danger."
"I never said that." She looks away, mouth going tight. "I only said I haven't found Kash yet. Not that I've given up."
I swallow hard. "In any case … How could I party when Jarett is behind bars?"
"A year, girl. He'll be away for a year." She shrugs, turning back to me. "Think of it as a year abroad where he had to go for work. And you're here. Still alive. Still studying, and living. Waiting for him, but living. See the difference?"
"I don't … I don't know."
"He'd want you alive and well when he'd come back, right? From his trip. Or prison. And you'd do well to be strong, inside, for the months to come, and for when he's out, free to be with you again. Get it?" She taps the side of her head, her eyes bright.
I nod and swear to myself I won't cry again. I've done it way too much in the past days and weeks.
"He will be released. He will be with you. If you don't run yourself to the ground, if you're strong enough for both of you." Sydney smiles at me. "And you can be. You are. I know you. You're a supergirl, Augusta Watson. If you love him, if he's worth waiting for, then you can do it. Show the world that you can."
She's right. If she can do this-waiting, searching, believing in someone she loves-then so can I. I will do this. For him. For myself.
I just hope he'll keep fighting, too.
Inside the prison visitor center, it's all white and blue, with a long table and chairs. It feels like a hospital, of sorts.
I wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans. I've already passed through security control. I scan the room for Jarett, but can't find any familiar face staring back at me.
I don't know what I'd expected. A smaller room? Jarett waiting for me?
Unsure what to do next, I sink down in one of the chairs and fold my hands on top of the table. I'm in the right place.
Be strong, Sydney said. Okay.
Deep breaths.
Then he enters, and I shoot back up to my feet, my heart racing. It's him. He's in a gray prison uniform, and his dark hair is cut close to his scalp. He looks thinner, pale, but his eyes light up when he sees me.
He starts toward me and I run into his arms. "Gigi," he whispers, his arms wrapping around me so hard I can't breathe. "God, Gigi."
I'm drowning. He's my lifeline. He's here. He's okay.
How did I live in the past without him? I can't remember. I don't think I can part from him again.
"Gigi, we can't," Jarett says, gently prying me off him. "It's not allowed."
What?
A guard moves toward us, a frown on his face.
"We can't hug." Jarett leads me to the table, sits me down and sits across from me. "But we can hold hands."
His long, strong fingers curl around mine.
Our hands, on the table between us, together.
A knot.
A bond.
"Are you all right?" I ask. So many things I want to ask him. "Are they treating you okay?"
"I'm okay." He gives me a faint smile. "It's good to see you."
"I told you I'd be here."
His chin dips, and his lashes brush low, over his cheekbones. "I wasn't sure you meant it."
I grip his hand more tightly, locking gazes with him. "I meant everything."
He swallows hard. "Listen. I made many mistakes. Broke the law. Didn't think of the consequences. It's only fair that I'm here. But you … I can't ask you to wait for me. A year in prison … "
"Jarett-"
"But I'll ask you anyway," he rushes on, and small flames seem to burn in the cores of his eyes. "I'll ask you. Please."
"You don't need to ask. I'll wait for you." Tears burn my eyes, but I smile at him. "Don't you see? I've waited for you all my life."
I'd wait in this life, and in the next one, too.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Jarett
Every day it is the same routine.
Get up at half past seven-I always woke up hours before that, and work starts an hour later. I have cleaning tasks, and then I work in the prison metal shop, making license plates.
Boring as hell, but it keeps my hands busy and my mind from going off the rails. Not that I get to choose what to do, anyway.
Then we collect lunch, some unidentifiable stew and pasta-thank fuck Connor trained me to eat whatever I'm given-and then we're locked up in our cells until the staff have their own lunch. Then it's back to work. Sometimes we're allowed out in the walled yard.
Sometimes the inmates will corner me and steal the few cigarettes I manage to bum off a guard or other prisoner. Sometimes they rough me up just enough to remind me who's in charge.
Just like Sebastian used to do.
I missed both funerals. His, and Mom's. Didn't get to say goodbye. The knowledge of that failure burns inside me, knots up my stomach so I can barely eat. My mind is hazy, my thoughts heavy.
The only thing that keeps me going is the phone calls I get with Gigi, and her weekly visit. If not for those things, I may have just given up. Gone off my fucking rocker. Sunk through the floor where it's dark and quiet and nothing matters.
But she won't let me. Keeps calling. Keeps visiting. She takes my hand and talks to me about her brother, her sister, her baby nephew, the garage and the house and her studies. About the world outside.
Reminding me there's hope.
She burns in my mind like a flame, keeping me warm. Otherwise, I don't feel much. My thoughts are slow. Way too slow, trying to figure out what happened, to tease apart what was real from what was a dream.
Did Mrs. Lowe love me as a son?
Maybe. As much as she could. She barely knew me before she started losing the memory of who I was.
Was Sebastian a good guy?
No, he was an asshole. Sure, he wasn't all bad. Who is? But trying to save him was a futile exercise, one that almost got me killed, too.
Was Connor a good father to me, training me to throw punches and shoot a gun instead of opting for a conversation? Teaching me that family is always right, a blind faith instead of seeing things and people for what they are?