Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

BECCA

I've been nervous since I got the okay to come visit Trey. The last time we spoke, it wasn't great. It was in the middle of the hallway at the courthouse, as he was getting taken out. We were arguing over what was best for Mick. I said some things I shouldn't have, and he definitely said many things he shouldn't.

I pull into the parking lot of the Greater Birmingham penitentiary and select a spot. When I thought about this, I always figured this place would be packed with family members who were coming to see their loved ones. But as I sit in my car and look around, I'm struck by how lonely this place looks. It's pouring out of the barred windows and fences with barbed wire at the top.

Unbuckling, I grab my purse and open the door. My gaze goes down to the pavement. It's cracked and spiraling, much like my emotions right now. There are weeds sprouting up in every available space. It's a piece of hope in an otherwise hopeless situation. Squaring my shoulders, I walk with purpose toward the front door.

I've never been here before, but there are people in front of me who seem to know the drill. I follow along until I get up to where I can speak to someone.

"Who are you here to see today?" The woman behind the counter asks.

"Trey White," I answer, his name feeling weird on my lips.

"And you are?"

"His sister, Rebecca."

She clicks a few keys on her computer and then moves her mouse. "I see you've made an appointment, and you've been approved. You'll need to go through the metal detectors." She points to a bank of them.

The only other time I've been through these is when I've done jury duty, or gotten my license renewed. I've never been scared to go through them, but I am right now. It's not as if I'm carrying something that's going to get me in trouble, but I'm still worried. I put my purse on the belt, emptying my pockets into the bins, and wait for everything to go through.

"Okay, step through." The officer, wearing a scowl on his face, tells me.

I'm sure he hates this job. He sees the worst of the worst and gets absolutely no respect for any of it. I hold my arms up as he sweeps a wand across my shoulders and along my waist.

"You're good. Go sit over in one of those chairs." He points to a bank of seats next to the wall. "When your prisoner is ready to be seen, they'll let you know."

I hate that they call Trey my prisoner. He's my brother, but I guess I have to accept that it's what he is. He's chosen to live this life, and there are consequences. I have a seat and pull my purse into my lap, crossing my legs. It's a protective gesture, one I do more often than I should. It's a tell, that if anyone knows me well enough will see. Inhaling deeply, I try to slow my pounding heart, but when another officer down the hallway calls my name, it feels as if it's going to beat through my chest. I walk slowly to where he's holding a door open, and then I enter.

"Hey Becca."

I haven't heard Trey's voice in months, so it's foreign when he greets me. I go over to the table, but before I can take a seat, the officer in the room requests my purse by pointing at it and motioning with his hand. "Oh yeah. Here you go." He takes it, and places it in what I guess he considers a safe space.

Turning back around, I look at Trey and trudge to the table where he's seated. "Hi," I whisper as I pull the chair out and sit down in front of him.

He hitches his jaw up at me, and it pisses me off.

"You can't even say anything to me after what I've done for you? You've completely changed my life, and you won't say hi? What the fuck, Trey?"

His eyebrows screw together in the middle of his forehead. "Oh, here we go," he tsks, pushing his feet out. They almost reach me, and I can feel the heat from his legs under the table. "You've always got to have someone tell you how great you are."

"No, I don't. However, it would be nice if you'd acknowledge that my life has been turned upside down since you were put in jail." He refuses to meet my eyes as I say the words.

"No one asked you to do anything," he looks everywhere but at me.

"That's where you're wrong. I was asked. The cops called me, said you'd been arrested and someone needed to take Mick. I did that," I remind him. "Without a second thought, I did that. I've never asked for a thank you, but I am here to ask for something."

"Of course you are."

I roll my eyes, irritation washing over my body. If he only knew the shit I've been dealing with, and how hard this has been. "Stop." I close my eyes. "I've never asked you for anything, but I'm going to today."

He sits up straighter, looking at me as if he's a student paying attention to a teacher. "I'm going to relish telling you no."

When did he become this person who delights in being an asshole? This isn't how he was raised, and it's never how I imagined he would speak to me. "I'm taking care of Mick, as you know."

"Rub it in, be a fuckin' martyr."

I ignore him. He's always the victim. "It would be helpful if you could sign over your parental rights while you're here."

"Fuck that and fuck you."

It hurts to have him speak to me like this. When we were kids, he loved me; he took care of me, and he was the person I would've run to if I had a problem. If a guy had been a dick, Trey would be the person to make him pay for it. I never would have imagined we'd be here right now. "I realize that you're hurting, and you hate that you're in prison. That's all completely understandable."

He lunges across the table. "Don't pretend like you know what I'm dealing with, or that you even care." As he says the words, spit flies toward me. He's speaking with such disdain.

I inhale deeply. "I had hoped you would care more about your son than this, that being in here," I motion to the surrounding walls. "Would change you. That maybe you would realize how good life is outside of here, but you haven't." I shrug. "If you refuse to sign over your parental rights while he's in here so I can make sure he's taken care of, then I'll go about it another way," I threaten.

"I'd like to see you try, Becca. You've never had the backbone to stand up to anyone."

Setting my jaw, I stand up, pressing my palm against the table. "Then you don't know who I am, and you have no idea what I've had to do to keep shit together while you've been in here. You'll hear from my attorney," I say the words with much more confidence than I actually have.

Turning on my heel, I walk over to the officer who is in the room with us. "I'd like to go now."

He stands up, going to escort me out.

"I'm not done with you, Becca," Trey yells. "I still have a few things to say to you."

The officer turns back. "I don't think she wants to listen. She's asked to leave, and that's what she's going to do."

It's much easier to leave than it was to come in. I'm mad now, instead of worried and scared. With a temper I try to keep in check, I stomp out of the jail and head to my car. I make it until I get to the driver's seat and slam the door before I let the tears fall. My hands are shaking as I pull my phone out of my purse and search for the one person I want to speak to.

I find Madden's name and click the button to connect. I'm not sure whether he can answer because he's in school, and I don't know what the rules are with him while in school. It's ringing, and I'm about to hang up, when I hear his voice.

"Bec?"

Immediately, I sob. "I need to see you. Can I do that?"

"Are you okay?" His voice is full of concern.

"No, but I will be."

"I take it, it didn't go well with Trey?" He whispers.

"Yeah, you could say that." I put my thumb to my mouth and start chewing on the nail.

"Here's what we're going to do. I'm going to bring Mick to my house. You meet us over there. Y'all can stay if you want. Tomorrow's Saturday. We can spend the day together.

This sounds good, letting him take care of me and Mick. "Are you sure?"

"I'm positive. I can call Steph and ask her to bring clothes over for you two if you give me her number."

No man has ever gone this far out of his way to be nice to me, and not having to decide is very appealing to me. I rattle off Stephanie's number. "I'll see you in about an hour and a half."

"Be careful. If it's going to take you longer, don't worry. Dinner will be taken care of when you get to my house. I've got you, Bec."

That sounds nice, and I haven't had a partner in so long. "Thanks Madden. I'll be there soon."

Letting out a breath, I head for home, and when I think about his house at home, it feels right.