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Justice remained silent.

“Are you safe now? You need my help? Our help?”

The only Rawlings she had ever truly been herself around was Nolan. Yeah, she had been more than real with Declan, but that was all emotion, felt not seen or said. Nolan, though— she didn’t have to say much but he got it, and he made her feel better. He was a breath of fresh air.

Wanting to tell Nolan she never found his letters, and to hear a true friend’s voice, she’d tried calling him. He didn’t answer. But she wasn’t surprised. The first leg of his adventure was some kind of hiking trip.

So she’d smiled at Atticus and told him she was fine, hugged him, then walked away. That was early that morning.

Since then, she had reapplied makeup three times over and avoided every stare Tobias, Boon, and Atticus had given her.

And now, here she was, face to face with the leader of the pack, their father, Chasen Rawlings.

“I’d ask how you were holding up,” Chasen said, his gaze moving right to her cheek. “But that would be foolish small talk you don’t need.”

Justice wanted to look away from him, needed to. But couldn’t.

“I’m going to ask you if you’re all right, and you’re going to nod if you are, and stare me down if you are not.”

She stared, the seconds ticked on and on, then Murdock opened the back door to the home. He didn’t say anything, he just looked over Chasen carefully, almost fearfully then stepped inside, but kept his stare on Justice through the window.

Hesitantly, she nodded. Then walked away from Chasen.

“Justice,” he said. She glanced back. “We’re here.”

“I like that,” she said honestly, before dropping her gaze once more and going back in.

Weeks and weeks passed, Murdock had all but moved into Justice and Bell’s home. Finally, Bell put her foot down, said it was inappropriate. Murdock needed to be with his family, and Justice needed time alone. She chose to say as much to Mary Souter in front of several of her friends. Of course she didn’t say ‘inappropriate’ she said ‘it’s time to give Justice a sense of normalcy and privacy, which is hard to do with a constant houseguest.’

He was angry, but Murdock hadn’t stayed a night on her couch since. However, it didn’t stop him from spending time with Justice. He took her to work, and he picked her up. If she did meet up with friends, he was there.

Most times she didn’t mind it much. She struggled to seem balanced and not like she was still traumatized from the ‘accident.’ Murdock was good at calming her down, or at least taking her hands when they’d fidgeted, or wrapping his leg around hers if she shook her legs too much or even pulling her out of a crowd if her stare became a bit too cagy.

From the outside looking in, Justice was sure they looked like a young couple bound by a hell they’d survived. Not like two souls who shared a deadly secret, one where the risk and level of crime seemed to grow with each day.

The ‘accident’ had left her on edge, but him more so at times. The littlest things would upset him, bring out agitation she had never seen in Murdock before. He now hated the batting cage. He hated driving at night. He’d speed up just so none was close to him on the long back highways.

A few times he had completely lost his cool—and so had she. The pair of them would end up in a screaming match, one she always lost because she would finch in the middle of it. Showing weakness gave him every reason to pull her to him, and sway her. “I’m just so worried about you. I’m spying on my dad, his friends. The case is still on his desk, even though they closed it officially. I don’t know what he’s doing and we’re both too deep into this now.” He’d sway her more, brush his lips across her brow. “I didn’t mean to yell, I swear. We just have to stick together through this.”

Murdock claimed they were too deep the second Bell and Justice used the ‘fund me’ account to pay for the burial. He told her fraud could be strapped to her then. And when the life insurance check came it would be even worse.

Justice was used to living with a reasonable degree of anxiety, or well, a reasonable amount for a girl who was abused, but now she lived with entirely too much.

Her mother not coming back for the funeral, even to check on Justice, and barely returning her calls made it all the worse. At night Justice would lay in bed and replay the fight. Looking for a new way out and ending up sick in the bathroom every time.

Bell never asked for a play by play, not even when Murdock actually went home, but she had gathered what had occurred. “Did he tell you why? Murdock covering this up—the risk...I don’t know that it makes much sense.”

In all truth, Bell would have expected a Rawlings to cover-up and defend Justice, not a Souter. A Rawlings would have carried their secret to the grave and been prepared for any backlash. A Souter? Murdock? That kid was too worried about his own self. And there was no way he was in love with Justice. He didn’t even try to act like it. She was merely property, a status symbol to him.

To a Souter when property is damaged, it’s discarded. When a status symbol is harmed, it’s covered up.

“Said I’d be in trouble.” She looked right at her grandmother. “He said daddy knew I was with Declan, and could’ve told the Sheriff or others.” Her voice cracked as she went on. “He said Declan would get in trouble for it, too.”

Bell lifted her brow. She could see both the truth and the lie in the excuse. There was a good possibility her father did know. Brent had asked her why Justice was so down days before he died. But then again, there was the basic nature of the Souters, self first. Murdock defending Justice made no sense.

“What do we do?” Justice asked.

“Nothing,” Bell said. “You said more than you thought to the counselor. If it ever does get messy, we have a point to argue. Let your ghosts rest, child. Murdock has guilt in this now. He’ll hold your secret. And as soon as he believes you will too, he’ll be gone, on to someone or something else.”

Justice all but turned green, knowing Murdock was far too paranoid to go away anytime soon.

Bell pulled Justice to her. “Not your fault, baby,” she said as she rocked her. “He fell.”

“Mom is still not coming back,” Justice said.

Bell moved Justice back and looked her in the eye. “You’re stronger than your mother. Always have been. The only way for her to cope is to move forward, not back. She loves you, but...”

“I remind her of him, and even dead he’s a threat,” Justice said with a degree of anger in her tone.

Bell nodded.

Truth be told, her mother had wanted to come home. She said she knew Justice needed help managing the funds and insurance and she could bring her family to Bradyville.

When Bell told her the man may be dead but the debt he created wasn’t, when she made it clear that Justice would be lucky to go to school the following year, her mother’s plans changed, something came up and yeah...

Justice didn’t need to know or hear anything to make her feel less loved and wanted. Because she was loved and wanted, by others, those who chose her. She’d been through enough, and right now Justice needed to pick up the pieces and let her parents rest in a dark past that was better left unremembered.

***

A
fter seeing Atticus again, sitting in her section at the diner, nearly two months after the horrific night, Justice awoke somewhat from her hell.

“You need anything else?” she asked Atticus as she took away his empty plate that once held his second helping of pancakes.

It wasn’t easy waiting on him, being near his knowing stare. It was even worse when Boon, Tobias, or his dad was with him. And forget it if Nash Rawlings, their gramps, came in—Justice would outright trade tables to avoid his gaze.

The southern ex-military man seemed to have the ability to reach in and read your every thought—Justice was sure both Chasen and Atticus inherited his trait of doing so.

She felt guilty for not sending the letters she was supposed to send for Nolan, upset she couldn’t get him to answer, and yes she missed Declan, even though she was sure with what she had been going through he would have been too much to handle.

Even though Justice knew her actions, in part, were to protect him, and she thought of him each night as she drifted to sleep, the idea of him seemed a universe away. Almost as if the girl he left here died hours later when she fought back, really fought back for the fist time. And this girl? She wasn’t too sure who she was yet.

“I’m good,” Atticus said, pulling out his wallet. As he did, he purposely set a letter on the table as he counted his cash out. When he saw Justice staring at the name—who it was addressed to—frozen in place as if someone had shined a spotlight on a dormant memory, he grinned. “Yeah, I miss him. ‘Bout to go over to the post to mail this.” He looked up at her, his near gray gaze searching hers. “Got anything you need me to mail? Pick up?”

Justice gasped, and ended up having to brace her tray when she heard the dishes rattle from her shaky embrace. She’d forgotten all about her P.O. Box.

Her mom could now call any time; there was no need for secret mailboxes.

“Cuts—who’s first out?” Josh, the manager yelled from threshold to the kitchen.

Justice’s nervous gaze grew wider. She held up a finger to Atticus, somewhat asking him to stay, but knowing even if he didn’t she had to move fast.

She never asked for first cut, those who stayed past eight hours moved to an hourly wage, and she needed the cash. Which is why Murdock wasn’t supposed to pick her up for at least another few hours. But today she asked to be out, and after an awkward glance her boss gave her the nod.

Justice rushed back out to her section, to Atticus. “I do need a ride to the post office. I mean if you’re going there already, but I need like twenty minutes,” she glanced over her section, at all the side work she had to do before she left. “Maybe a few more.”

Atticus grinned, an accomplished, Nolan grin. “No prob. I gotta take this order over to gramps. I’ll swing back through and get you in a few.”

“Okay, but I need you to bring me back here, directly.”

Atticus’s grin faded. “Picking up another shift?”

“I got a ride home.”

“Well, you want to call your ride and tell ‘em I have you covered?”

She did. God she did. But knew it was a bad idea. Not only was Murdock more protective than ever since her grandmother had put space between them, but every single day he had some remark about the Rawlings.

He’d asked if she she’d seen them, then when she asked why he’d say his dad was asking about them.
“That is bad, Justice. We don’t need to give them any fat to chew,”
Murdock would say.

Justice tensed, she sucked at lying. Really sucked at it. “It’s just already set up and all,” she said finally.

With a stiff ‘Declan’ nod Atticus stood up and put his hat on. “Okay then, see you in a bit.”

Then he winked at her and made his way out.

Justice’s boss had given her a ton of slack since she came back two and half weeks earlier. He’d overlooked her forgetting half her orders, her dropping plates, not leaving her section the way it should be, even being late almost every day because Murdock was always hung over and not eager to take her in at four each morning. But she knew one day the slack was going to run out.

Nevertheless, Justice was hoping the slack her boss had been giving her would last just a bit longer. She flew through her side work, half because she didn’t want to leave Atticus waiting, and half because she could
not
focus. Just the thought that there might be a letter waiting on her, one from Declan...it made so much angst vanish at once.

Declan gave her a breath, the first deep one she had taken in weeks, made her heart race and her skin blush...by doing nothing, by only being a possibility. A hope of a smile could take a girl like Justice a long way.

She didn’t even ask for anyone to check over her work before she left. She punched the clock, and waved the second she saw Atticus pull back in the lot.

Atticus was laughing when she climbed up in his truck.

“Not funny. Why in the hell would you need a truck this high?”

He shook his head as he reached for her hand and helped her in. “It’s good for my ego, watching you climb in isn’t what tickled my funny bone.”

Justice adjusted herself in the passenger seat and drew in a deep breath. It was crazy how this family made her feel stronger, bolder just by being near them. They made her forget what she dealt with day in and out.

“What, then? I smell like bacon? Have ketchup on me?” she asked, only half joking. Murdock always drove her home with all the windows down, teasing her about how the odor of eggs was ridiculous.

“You smell awesome,” Atticus said. “Making my ass hungry all over again.” His tires squealed as he peeled out on Main St. “You’re just making me feel like I’m stealing you—bank robber or some shit.” 

“People talk too much,” she said, glancing back, wondering how many people saw her leave with him.

“Only people who like to hear the sound of their own voice,” Atticus said as he leaned into his door. “Only people who have something to hide.”

When her guilty stare shot to him he shrugged. “Like weakness, I mean. You know.”

She nodded.

“You’re worried about Murdock seeing you with me?”

Justice moved her stubborn gaze forward. “You Rawlings’ are nothing if not blunt.”

He grinned. “Saves time.”

She watched the road for a while, hoping he’d forget the original question.

“That real or not, you and him?” Atticus asked at a red light. She was sure he waited until he stopped so he could look her dead in the eye.

“No.”

“What’s the deal then?”

She shook her head. “We just went through some stuff.”

“Through some stuff? Your dad, that bothered him?”

“Yeah,” she said genuinely. “When Murdock was at my house it was to see him mostly. He got along with him better than his own dad.”

“But the night your dad had his accident he was with you? All cuddled up on the front porch?”

Justice felt her stomach flip and a blush wash down her.