I looked toward the door, suddenly feeling the urge to bolt. “Kinda,” I shrugged. Kinda a lot.
She nodded thoughtfully. “Is there anyone else you’ve hurt in the past that you wish you could apologize to?”
I thought back to the night before my dad got hauled off to prison. I didn’t realize it then, but he was under a lot of pressure. He owed a lot of money to a lot of people, and one wrong deal could get him killed. I was sitting in my bedroom when he burst through the door. He yelled at me over something stupid—chores probably. I didn’t even remember what it was about now, but I screamed back at him. He got in my face, pointing a finger in my chest, backing me into a corner. And like the moody preteen that I was, I told him I hated him for the first time ever.
I would never forget that look of disappointment on his face. He backed away and left my bedroom without another word. We didn’t speak for the rest of the night or the whole next morning. I was still reeling the next day when I left for school, and when I came home, he was gone. The cops had come and arrested him around lunchtime.
Knowing she’d been waiting patiently for my response, I couldn’t look her in the eye when I said, “Nope.”
She eyed me suspiciously. She knew I was lying, but she didn’t push me for answers and ignored my glassy eyes. She just nodded and said, “Well, we all make mistakes. We just have to learn from them and move forward, not beat ourselves up for something we can’t take back.”
How the hell did she know I was beating myself up for something I couldn’t take back?
But the gleam in her eye told me she understood, and that was all that mattered. I managed a crooked smile, and she glanced at the clock. A flash of disappointment crossed her face, realizing how close she had come to getting me to crack. “Our time is up,” she said sorrowfully. With as many kids as were in cell Block-A, we only got to spend about ten minutes at a time with her.
I stood to my feet. “See you next time,” I said with a hint of enthusiasm that I tried to stuff down.
She grinned. She knew she was getting to me. Dammit.
“See you soon, Chris.” A little wave from her sent me out of her office to the awaiting guard who escorted me back to my cell.
I crashed on the bunk. What the fuck just happened?
A couple of days had passed since my last meeting with Mrs. Honeycutt. I’d spent that time adding reinforcements to the bricks that she’d chiseled on the wall around my heart. She wasn’t going to get to me this time. I wasn’t here to make friends. I was here to do my time and get the hell out. There was no sense in dredging up feelings to some woman who couldn’t change a damn thing about them anyway.
I sat down on her sofa, boring holes through the floor.
“Good morning,” she cooed, her voice sweet and spritely.
“Hmph,” I grunted. I didn’t even want to use English today because she’d already proven that once I opened my big mouth she could see every fucking thing about me.
“I hope you’re having a good day so far,” she said, jotting something down in her notebook.
“Hmph,” I repeated, refusing to look her in the eye.
She could try all she wanted, but she wasn’t getting me to talk.
“So, I looked at your file.” She glanced up at me, out of the corner of her eye.
Did she just fucking smirk at me?
So, she’s read my file? That means she’s seen all the stupid shit I’ve done. Yay.
She sat there, poised to write all about it in that damn notebook of hers. So, what? I’d burned down some abandoned barn? So I’d stole some old lady’s Buick? So I kicked the shit out of Trevor-douchebag-Kent? He needed someone to put a bullet between his eyes for what he did to Kaitlyn. No, I did the world a favor.
I watched her. Her soft hazel eyes. Her long, silky brown hair. Her lips that curled ever so slightly into an innocent smile. I didn’t want to believe it, or think it, but something about her seemed safe… trustworthy.
Just then, she glanced up at me.
When I glanced back up, Chris’s eyes were on me. His dark eyes pierced mine. The pain and turmoil behind those eyes was startling. We looked at each other for another moment before Chris finally broke the silence.
“I’m not who you think I am,” I said without thinking. Dammit! Those innocent eyes beckoned me to speak, and I’d completely lost my resolve.
Her expression softened. “And who do you think I think you are?”
Once again, I slouched against my chair and grumbled, “A loser kid who can’t keep his life straight. An arsonist carjacker who took a weapon to school and tried to off the Golden Child.”