Kings of Linwood Academy - The Complete Box Set: A Dark High School Romance Series Callie Rose (i read a book TXT) 📖

I say evasively, wishing I could tell her any of those things. “I just feel better living somewhere else. It makes things less awkward.”

As far as Samuel Black knows, Linc and I are still “broken up”, so I have to let my mom believe it too. Just in case. I’m careful never to outright lie to her about him, but it’s all fucking semantics at this point. Whether it’s a straight-up lie or a lie of omission, there are so many things my mom doesn’t know about my life right now that it makes me a little sick.

There was a time in my life when we told each other everything.

I miss those days.

“All right. As long as you’re okay,” she says, but I can tell she’s beating herself up again for not being able to take care of me—for leaving me alone to fend for myself.

I wish I could tell her that I’m not as alone as she thinks I am. That I have a good support system, four boys at my back who won’t let me fall if they can possibly stop it.

Someday.

Once she’s out of this place, I’ll tell her every fucking thing.

“I am, Mom. Promise.” I put my hand against the glass, and she mirrors the movement. “I’m excited for winter break though. It’ll be nice to have a little time off. Plus, I can come see you more.”

“Well, I always like that.”

She smiles, fiddling with the collar of her jump suit. I hate that I’m starting to get used to the sight of her in orange, that it’s no longer as shocking as it used to be. I don’t want to get used to any part of this.

We talk for a few more minutes, but she seems distracted and quieter than usual today. Something’s bugging her, but I can’t figure out what. Maybe she got some news from her lawyer?

The court-appointed attorney is a guy named Scott Parsons. He looks like he could be my age and acts way too fucking nervous to give me any confidence in his courtroom abilities, but Mom insists he knows what he’s doing and that she trusts him.

When I finally can’t take it anymore, I blurt, “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

Mom opens her mouth like she might try to brush it off, then closes it and sighs. “My trial date has been set.”

My throat goes dry, and my heart kicks against my ribs. Fuck. I always knew we didn’t have unlimited time, but this puts a ticking clock on our attempt to find any damning evidence against the real killer.

“Shit, Mom. When?”

The words are barely a whisper, but the phone’s mouthpiece must pick them up anyway, because she hears me.

“Two months. The prosecution is pushing hard to speed this along. Scott is trying to slow things down, but…” She trails off and sighs. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s a good thing. The sooner my trial comes, the sooner I’ll have a chance to go home. Get back to my life.”

No. It’s not a good fucking thing. I don’t want my mom within a hundred yards of a courthouse until I know there’s no chance a jury could ever convict her.

And right now? With the evidence built up against her?

I can’t count on that.

Clutching the phone with both hands, I try not to let her hear the sharp, uneven breaths that fall from my lips as I work to get my emotions under control.

Shit. This can’t be fucking happening.

Linc’s been trying to get something on his dad, trying to pinpoint the connection between him and Iris—but he hasn’t been able to find the paternity test I stumbled upon in Samuel Black’s drawer all those weeks ago, or anything else so far.

“Oh, and Judge Hollowell isn’t the one assigned to my case,” Mom adds with a slight grimace. “Maybe it’s for the best, anyway. He’d probably have to recuse himself since we went out a few times.”

I sit up straighter, my grip on the phone tightening.

“That is better. Now that you know he won’t be presiding over your trial, there’s no reason you can’t reach out to him. Just for advice, Mom,” I add, leaning forward, my whole body taut with tension. “I know Scott means well, but he’s not—”

Good enough. Tough enough.

Connected enough.

Alexander Hollowell is a respected judge in Fox Hill, and the fact that he’s been invited to several of the Black family’s cocktail parties means he’s definitely well connected.

He might be able to talk to the right people, nudge things in the right direction, and give mom a fighting chance here. If she had to go on what sounded like two pretty “meh” dates with him, maybe she can at least get some legal help out of it.

“Oh.” Mom shakes her head, waving a hand like she’s brushing the thought away. “No, sweetheart. I don’t think that’s a good idea. I was just grasping at straws before.”

“So grasp! Grasp!” I blurt the words so loudly that the guy having a quiet conversation with the prisoner behind the glass partition several feet away glances over at me. I bring my volume down but scoot to the edge of my seat, leaning my elbows on the little counter in front of the pane. “Now’s not the time to play it cool or worry about imposing, Mom. If there’s even a chance he could help you, even a little bit, you have to take it!”

She considers my words—I can see her turning them over in her mind—but then she shakes her head, a sad, patient smile tilting her lips. “I don’t think it’s worth it, Low. We didn’t have a love connection. It was just a couple dinners. Even if he remembers who I am, why would he want to help me?”

“Of course he remembers who you are, Mom, come on!”

She dips her head, acknowledging that I’m probably right about that, but then she shakes it again. “I still don’t know why he’d want to help. Even if it’s allowed, it’s