Chapter 7
Austin’s hand remained half-raised.
He lowered it slowly when he realized everyone was staring.
Summer’s heart pounded, but her face stayed calm.
Prison had taught her that fear shown too early becomes a tool for other people.
Sheila’s rubbing-alcohol bottle slipped from her hand and landed on the hardwood floor.
No one picked it up.
The sharp medicinal smell spread across the entrance.
Summer looked down at it.
“That was supposed to make me feel dirty.”
She looked back at Sheila.
“It didn’t work.”
Sheila’s mouth opened, but no insult came.
Without certainty, cruelty lost its rhythm.
Abigail stepped toward Austin.
“What did you do?”
He turned on her.
“You knew.”
Abigail recoiled as if slapped.
“I knew you said it was temporary.”
“You wanted her gone as much as Dad did.”
Lawrence barked, “Watch your mouth.”
Summer watched them split.
Not fully.
Not honestly.
But enough.
Guilt rarely stays loyal when consequences enter the room.
Austin looked at Summer.
“You don’t understand what it was like when you went inside.”
Summer’s eyes narrowed.
“When I went inside?”
He flushed.
“You left us with bills.”
“I was in prison.”
“Because of choices you made.”
She lifted the phone again.
His mouth shut.
There was no need to argue with a man afraid of his own voice.
Sheila stepped closer to Austin, but not beside him this time.
“What did you mean before the plea?”
He looked at her.
“Don’t.”
Sheila’s face hardened.
“I’m carrying your child in a house you told me was clean.”
Summer almost pitied her.
Almost.
Then she remembered the spray hitting her face.
She remembered Sheila saying prison like a stain.
“You were very comfortable with the story when it made me beneath you,” Summer said.
Sheila looked ashamed for half a second.
Then defensive.
“You walked in here like—”
“Like what?”
Sheila stopped.
Summer’s gaze was too steady.
“Like someone who served her time and still had the nerve to come home?”
The hallway went quiet.
Liam? No Liam in this prompt. Keep no.
Abigail whispered, “Summer, please. We can talk privately.”
Summer turned to her mother.
“You had two years to talk privately.”
Abigail’s face crumpled.
“I was scared.”
Summer’s voice softened only slightly.
“So was I.”
Then she pressed the phone screen off without deleting anything.
Austin looked almost relieved.
Summer noticed.
“Relax,” she said. “It’s backed up.”
May you like
His relief vanished.
Read Chapter 8 👉 Because Austin thought silence meant safety, but Summer had learned never to keep only one copy of the truth.
