Twisted Legacy by June CoraLee

Author:June, CoraLee
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-02-23T23:00:00+00:00

Mom and I spent the rest of the night in silence. Every time I asked her what was going on with Joseph and the Beauregards, she closed off, sealing her mouth shut and refusing to talk to me about all of it. I wanted to pry the information from her lips, but I also didn’t want to pressure her into telling me things she wasn’t yet ready to share. She was hurting, she was a victim. I wanted to rush her to the police station and have Joseph behind bars, but I had to do things on her terms. In a time where her life felt out of control, it was important to make sure the decision to get help was in her hands.

When I woke up the next morning, I rolled over in bed, expecting to see my battered mother sleeping there, finally getting a peaceful night’s rest. But instead of her snoozing frame, her side of the mattress was empty. I shot out of bed and started wandering the apartment, my feet shuffling across the wood floors. “Mom?” I called out. Nothing.

In the kitchen, there was no sign of her. It wasn’t until I saw the scrawled note on the back of a receipt that I realized what she’d done.

Baby,

Joseph called. I got up early and drove home. Loved the girl’s night. See you soon.

Xoxo,

Mom

I quickly grabbed my phone and dialed her number, but it went straight to voicemail. It was about a five hour drive from here to DC. What time had she left? Certainly she wasn’t there already.

I didn’t have a car, or I would have gotten on the road right then and chased her down. I needed more time to convince her that she deserved better than Joseph. This wasn’t safe. What if Joseph killed her? Fuck! I knew how this would play out. Mom needed my support more than ever. I refused to let Joseph break her.

I didn’t want to call Hamilton so soon, but I really did need his help. It wasn’t like I could knock on Jared’s door, and I didn’t know Jess well enough to ask her to drive me to DC. I called him and was directed straight to his voicemail. “Where are you, Hamilton?” So much for, call me if you need anything.

Deciding that I couldn’t just sit here waiting, I got dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a gray, knit sweater and slipped on some boots before ordering an Uber to Hamilton’s townhouse. Much to my annoyance, the driver treated the ride like a leisurely stroll. My leg bounced as I rode. I clutched my cell phone in my fist and stared out the window at the passing buildings. The moment I pulled up to his neighborhood, I unbuckled and threw myself out of the car once we parked. Hamilton’s motorcycle wasn’t out front, but his Range Rover was. I knocked on the door, and the only thing to greet me on the other side was Little Mama’s barks.

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