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  But my wolf was insistent she needed better nutrition.

  I bought ingredients for a meal she used to cook, and on the way home told her, “I’ll take you up on your offer to cook. I don’t work tomorrow. If you’ll cook our dinner, we can eat at your house.”

  I smelled optimism and hope, and told her, “Don’t, Keisha. This isn’t me wanting to spend time with you, it’s me taking you up on the offer to cook. I’ll give you the pork chops, broccoli, rice, cheese, onions, and squash. You have eggs and the other spices needed to do your broccoli casserole, fried squash, and pork chops. We’ll share a meal together and talk, but that’s all this is.”

  It felt wrong to show up emptyhanded for dinner, but since I’d bought the ingredients, I dealt with it. I’d considered bringing a bottle of wine but didn’t like the message it’d send.

  I knocked on the door and she opened it immediately to let me in.

  “Perfect timing. If you can bring two chairs in from the porch, we’ll be all set.”

  I’d bought her four plates, four glasses, flatware for four, two large serving or mixing bowls, and some spatulas and pans. She had the bare basics for setting up house, but she’d put sheets of paper under the plates to act as place mats, and the table was set pretty with what little she had.

  “It smells wonderful.”

  “Thanks. How’s your day been?”

  “Decent. Are you nervous about tomorrow?”

  “Terrified.”

  I nodded. “You know how important it is. You’ll be fine.”

  Dinner was scrumptious, but uncomfortable. We were polite and cordial, but… I’m not sure the excellent food was payment enough for having to sit with Keisha while I ate it.

  Chapter 4

  Keisha

  The exam was long and intense, but it wasn’t terribly hard. I’d been working in a salon for years, and I’d had lots of time to study the details I hadn’t needed to know in a while.

  I knew I’d passed, but I’d been waiting weeks for my license to come in the mail.

  Meanwhile, life went on. I read, cooked, ate, walked in the woods, and slept.

  I also went through the two containers of memories. I put the photo albums on a shelf, and the jewelry box in my bedroom. My grandmother’s pearls and rings, my mom’s engagement and wedding ring — yes, I was happy to have them. My parents had been excited about starting a family, and it’d all gone so horribly wrong. I lifted my granny’s small engagement ring, held it, and put it on my right ring finger. It felt good, like having a little piece of her with me, and I decided maybe I’d wear it for a while.

  I also went to the grocery store twice a week, so I could carry home what I bought without having to tag along with Darnell. He didn’t like being around me so I wasn’t sure why he was helping me, but I figured I’d do him a favor and stay away. He’d done so much for me, it was the least I could do.

  I’d had a lot to do on this day — I checked in with my parole officer, stopped by the farmer’s market for some apples and peaches, went into a dollar store and bought a slotted spoon and some bowls with lids, and returned home. I put Darnell’s motorcycle in the garage, and he walked out to help me unload the saddlebags.

  He never came out to talk to me unless it was something important, so I waited for him to get around to it. He didn’t take long.

  “The mailman stopped at your box,” he told me. “You might want to check it.”

  I put my bags down and ran the thirty yards to my mailbox, ripped the front open, and my heart went into my throat as I saw the envelope was from the Cosmetology and Barber Licensing office.

  They’d told me I’d passed, but I still said a quick prayer before I opened it.

  Never mind the prayer now was pointless. The praying was necessary before I either failed or passed it. This was just the envelope saying how I’d done.

  I had to read it several times before I realized this form gave me my license number. I could get a job with this.

  I’d done it.

  My knees went weak with relief, and then I ran to Darnell, so happy I forgot he wanted to keep his distance.

  He smiled as I neared, apparently guessing what the paper said, but he stopped me before I could hug him.

  “I’m proud of you, Keisha. I’m happy for you, too. Come on, let’s get your things to your house. I’ll call Miri and let her know you have your license, and see when she wants you to come in to talk to her.”

  Miri told him I could come now, so I changed clothes, touched up my make-up and hair, and got the bike out of the garage again.

  My phone’s GPS took me to an upscale salon full of black women. I walked in and a woman near the back hollered, “You must be Keisha, come back here so we can talk.”

  “How’d you know who I am?” I asked when I got close enough I didn’t have to shout to be heard.

  “Not many sisters come to the salon on a motorcycle.”

  Miri was working on a customer, and she told her, “Keisha here just got her Tennessee cosmetology license. She’s been working in North Carolina for years though, so I have high hopes for her.”

  I thought Darnell had explained my situation, and I stuttered, “You know, I mean, umm, what did Darnell tell you?”

  “Is anything I just said not true?”

  I considered her words and shook my head.

  “Well, there you go. Miss Maggie over there needs her daughter’s hair put in a bun for ballet. If you can do that in the chair across the way while I finish up here, we’ll go in the back and talk when we finish. She has a picture of where the bun needs to be on her head, and you’ll need to make sure the tiara is pinned on good, so it stays put while she dances.”

  I turned to the waiting area, saw a woman and a child, and motioned them to me. This was obviously part of my interview, and I’d never worked on a kid before.

  The girl looked to be about eight, and I asked her name as I got her situated in the chair. Thankfully, she wasn’t a brat, and she told me all about her costume while I worked. I fastened the tiara so it looked like the picture on her mom’s phone, and she and her mom were happy.

  I smiled as Darius, Hailey, and Darnell came into the garage from the house as I pulled in.

  “I start day after tomorrow. She wants me for half-days at first, from two to six.” I didn’t tell them she’d warned I’d be washing and folding towels when there was no one for me to work on, and that I’d only be paid a percentage of the payment from each customer, though I’d get all the tip.

  Darius grabbed me in a bear hug, and then Hailey hugged me in congratulations as well.

  “I’ll need my own blow dryer, flat iron, and some other supplies.” The salon provided some things as part of the money they held out of my income, but I was expected to have the basics.

  Miri had given me a list of the bare necessities I could get away with my first weeks, and told me I could borrow the things not used a whole lot, but was clear that I’d be expected to purchase everything within the first four to six weeks. I had a little less than five hundred dollars left of the thousand Darnell had given me, and I was afraid I was going to use a good bit of it on the bare necessities.

  “I put baked potatoes in the oven when you left, and I have steaks marinating,” said Darnell. “I’ll put the steaks on the grill and we’ll have a little celebration dinner.”

  For the first time ever, I was invited into Darnell’s house. It’d looked nice from the outside, but inside it was a showplace. He had granite countertops, the biggest refrigerator I’ve seen in my life, an inside grill set into the counter beside the stove, and more cabinet space than I’ve ever seen in one place.

  “This is beautiful,” I told Darnell. “I’m really happy for you.”

  He turned away as he said, “Thanks.”

  My heart hurt at the slight, and Darius put his arm around me. “I brought a bottle of wine so we can celebrate. Dad says you can drink in small amounts — you just aren’t supposed to get drunk.” />
  I nodded, and he smiled. “Good. Have a seat and I’ll pour us all a glass.”

  Once we were seated and eating, I told them, “They have classes and support groups for fricking everything in prison. I had to go to a bunch of classes about being released and integrating back into the outside world, and the woman said people who go home to a family unit are three times more likely to not come back to prison.” I shrugged. “We aren’t really a traditional family unit, but you’ve all been here for me and it’s made all the difference in the world. Thanks. You’re all more important than you can imagine.”

  “It’s good to have you back,” Darius said with an easy smile. “Can’t wait to see you sprout wings and figure out your life.”

  Chapter 5

  Keisha

  My first days at the salon were stressful, but once I got into the flow of things, I enjoyed going to work.

  I opened a checking account with my first paycheck, bought a few more work clothes from a second-hand store, and put the rest away. I hoped to be able to pay Darnell his thousand dollars back in the near future, so I’d keep putting money back until I could swing it. I really wanted to buy curtains and some things to personalize my house, but I needed to pay Darnell back first.

  I’d notified my parole officer of my job at my monthly check-in, handed him my written report of how my month had gone, filled out more paperwork because of the change in status, received permission to open the checking account, and peed in a cup. I thought I was done with him until the next monthly check-in, so I was surprised when he pulled up to my house at ten o’clock a few mornings later. There wasn’t a driveway, so he drove through the yard and parked in front of my house in the grass.

  “Inspection of your premises. Please stand inside the front door with your hands behind your back while I inspect your living room. I’ll be filming all interactions once I enter the residence.”

  I’d known this could happen, but my two months of freedom made it rankle. In prison, there’s no personal space, no personal items. Guards can see anything, do just about anything, at any time.

  I stood inside my door with my hands behind my back, and died a little on the inside all over again as I watched this man paw through my belongings, check the empty storage area under my sofa, and look through some papers and mail on a little shelf. He had me walk to the kitchen and stand and watch as he looked through my cabinets, and even went through my trash.

  “Bedroom?”

  “It’s up the ladder, Sir.”

  He glared at me, as if I was inconveniencing him, and told me, “I’ll go up first, you should follow.”

  He even looked in the empty pockets of the clothes hanging in the closet.

  I followed him back to my front porch, where he asked me questions again about whether I was the only one living here, and how I was affording this place. He treated me as if I were the scum of the earth, and when he left I felt like I needed a shower.

  I didn’t take one though. I went upstairs, curled into a ball on the floor in a corner, and for the first time in nearly a decade, I cried.

  I cried until I nearly puked, and then I cried some more. Nine years of emotions, fourteen years of pain. I was a felon who’d lost most of my inalienable rights. I no longer mattered to society. I was trash.

  I froze as the front door opened, and curled into a tighter ball when Darnell’s face showed over the edge of my loft bedroom.

  I couldn’t stop the tears, though. If anything, they came on stronger with the humiliation of knowing he’d heard what had happened with my parole officer, and now he knew I was crying.

  He didn’t say a word. His heavy boots sounded odd on my floor, and I didn’t know what to think when he sat beside me, but was shocked when he pulled me into his lap and held me.

  “I wanted to stop him, but it would’ve caused problems with your parole if I’d come over and told him how I felt.”

  I nodded but kept crying, and he rubbed my back and held me. God, I’d missed his strong arms around me, and the reminder of what I’d had and lost made me cry even harder.

  “Let it out. You haven’t shown emotion since you got home. It’s about damned time you came back to us.”

  I tried to talk through my tears. “What do you mean? Came back to you?”

  I’m surprised he understood me through my sobs, but he must’ve because he said, “You’ve more than learned your lesson. It was a hard lesson to learn, but you’ve handled your money responsibly, you’ve managed to get a job, and you’re apparently good at it. Miri’s happy with your first two weeks.” He rubbed my back again, hugged me tighter. “But you’re this wall. No emotion. Nothing. I know my Keisha’s in there, but only because I’ve seen tiny glances.”

  I managed to stop my sobs long enough to say, “You can’t be happy I’ve changed while upset I’m not the same person.” Yeah, more wisdom from all those prison group-therapy sessions.

  He chuckled. “Well, I am. I don’t claim any logic to it, but there you go.”

  I leaned into him, afraid he’d get up and put distance between us if I reciprocated too much, but also worried he’d think I was rejecting him if I didn’t show affection back.

  “I’m so sorry. I know we’d still be together if I hadn’t fucked up.”

  He sighed. “Let’s agree that we both know you’re sorry and you don’t have to say it anymore, okay?”

  “I’ll stop apologizing when I feel like you’ve accepted my apology.” Nope, that wasn’t from group therapy. That was my own hard-headed attitude.

  “Okay. Fuck. I accept your apology. Darius is right — you’ve paid your dues and you’ve learned your lesson. You aren’t the same entitled, self-centered princess-wannabe you were at thirty.”

  I sighed. “And that’s a description from someone who loved me.”

  “You were also giving, and smart, and an incredible cook. I understand you got pissed at me when I suggested you get a job if you wanted more spending money, and you thought you’d teach me a lesson, but…”

  When he didn’t finish his sentence, I said, “But I’m the one who learned a lesson.” And fuck, had I learned it. There’s no designer anything in prison. I’d earned a little at the salon, but it’d had to go towards feminine products, toothpaste, and deodorant. The odd month I had enough left over for chapstick had been a treat. When you have to save for the most basic necessities, you quickly learn what a pampered princess you’d been before.

  He touched his cheek the top of my head. “I expected you to blow the thousand dollars within a week. I had another thousand in cash, ready to dole out to you as you needed it. I was pleasantly surprised when Darius told me how much you spent — and what you spent it on — your first day with him.”

  “You were testing me?”

  “Honestly? I think I was trying to prove to the wolf you still weren’t trustworthy.”

  “Oh.” My heart fell to my feet and I wanted to cry again, but I sucked my emotions in and tried to sit up — away from him.

  “No, Keisha. Don’t pull away and don’t you dare build that fucking wall back. The point is that you’ve proved to both of us — the wolf and the man — you aren’t the same woman who decided to cook meth because I wouldn’t pay for six-hundred-dollar high heels.” He pulled me even closer. “Damn, you bought used shoes! The old Keisha would’ve never put her feet in shoes someone else’s feet had been in.”

  “What are you saying?” I would always love this man, but I’d come to terms with the fact he didn’t love me anymore.

  “Fuck, Keesh. I don’t know, but you feel damned good in my arms.”

  “There’s something you should know.” He wanted me to be trustworthy so I needed to be honest even when I didn’t have to. If he was going to give us a chance, I wasn’t going to blow it by not being upfront with him.

  He tensed. “What?”

  “I had a… relationship, I guess. With another prisoner. It lasted years, until she got out. We talked on the phone every wee
k for a few months, but she got arrested in Virginia and is doing time there. Or was. She might be out again by now. I haven’t tried to contact her since I got out because I don’t want to risk my parole.”

  “Are you saying you love her?”

  I sighed. “A relationship with her would never work on the outside. It was a prison romance. Yeah, I loved her, and I still care about her, but I’m not saying I’ve turned gay and I’m not interested in men anymore. I discovered I’m bisexual.” I sighed again. “It’s over. I won’t go back to her — I just didn’t want there to be this big secret I hadn’t told you. There’s never going to be a good time to tell you, but now that I’m in your arms, I figured I shouldn’t keep waiting.”

  He was quiet a few moments and my heart fell into my stomach. He shouldn’t expect that I’d remain faithful after he divorced me, but maybe he assumed I had, since I’d been in prison?

  Finally, he said, “I’ve had sex with more women than I can count since our divorce, but I didn’t love any of them. I cared for Aggie, and have a helluva lot of respect for her, but I couldn’t love her.”

  Because wolves mate for life, and his wolf still wanted me.

  He was telling me we’d both been with other people, and apparently it was okay.

  He was also reminding me he hadn’t been able to find someone else to share his life with because he’d mated to me, and then I’d gone and fucked everything up.

  Instead of telling him I was sorry yet again, I said, “I want to tell you I won’t fuck up again, but I’m afraid to make big promises. I can promise I won’t fuck up that big again, though.”

  “Tell me about her.”

  “Kim’s part Vietnamese and part black, but she’s never been to Vietnam. She’d been a junkie, but I thought she’d got clean in prison. She had. She wasn’t using, and she was this beautiful, kind, loving person.” I took a breath and was careful not to sigh as I let it out this time. “She must’ve started using again when she got out. The last time I talked to her, I thought something seemed off but I couldn’t be sure.”