But he doesn’t look at me.

In fact¸ I think he’s intentionally looking at anything but me. Choking back the hurt I feel, I focus on the most important issue at hand.

When he’s in front of his chair, the guards undo his cuffs, and he takes a seat next to Jim, who begins whispering to him. The courtroom door creaks as it’s opened, and I glance back to see Lexi hightailing in, her heels click-clacking and echoing through the room. Her eye makeup is slightly smeared, but not as bad as usual, which means she probably licked a takeout napkin from her glove box and tried to clean up a bit before she came in. Not much can be said for her outfit; jean mini-skirt and flowy silk top. I left her a million voicemails last night and never heard from her. I guess she finally got them.

She rushes to me and is already hugging me as she sits beside me. “I’m so sorry, Demi. My phone died, and I left it in my car. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I assure her as I pull away, “Thank you for coming.”

The hearing begins and the prosecutor basically hammers it in that Connor is an already convicted violent felon and shouldn’t be on the streets because he’s not only a flight risk but a threat to society. Jim makes a good argument that Connor has been in good standing with his probation, has a growing and reputable business and is attempting to become a pillar in his community. He tells the judge about Connor’s work with victims of sexual abuse and states he has character witnesses that will attest to his docile personality. Connor looks to Jim, a scowl on his face. What is that about?

My mind turns over at the news of the volunteer work with victims of sexual abuse. How did I not know this? Why didn’t he tell me?

Jim also argues that there is no one to identify Connor as the murderer and at this time there is absolutely no proof that he had anything to do with it. The judge grants bail, at two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand dollars and warns Connor not do anything stupid. Is he serious? As the sound of his hammer cracks across the courtroom, Lexi squeezes my hand. Jim pats Connor on the back as he stands and holds his wrists out for the guard to cuff him again. I wait, practically begging in a silent plea, look at me, Connor. But he doesn’t. The guards lead him away, taking my heart with them.

Jim turns, and Lexi and I stand. “We can get him out by this afternoon. Are you sure you want to do this, Demi?”

I don’t respond directly to his question. It’s a dumb question, and he already knows the answer. “They have all my information. They just need a number, Jim.”

He nods once. “I’ll call you when you’re able to pick him up.”

I nod in return and Lexi tugs my hand leading me out of the courtroom. “Holy shit,” she breathes as we enter the hallway heading toward the exit. “What the fuck happened, Demi?”

“Mr. Jenson was murdered, and Mrs. Jenson says Connor did it.” I had stated this in the voicemails I left her last night, but apparently she needs a reminder.

Lexi shakes her head, before looking at me, her expression already soft—apologetic. “Do you think . . .” She can’t even finish her question because I’m already glaring daggers at her for even asking the question.

“Clearly, I do, Lex,” I snap. “I mean, I just anted up twenty-five thousand dollars and risking losing two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand dollars for a man I think is guilty.”

“Okay, okay.” She releases a deep breath. “How are the girls?”

Lexi is hitting all of the really sore subjects this morning and, therefore, receiving the blunt end of my shitty mood. “Good question,” I retort. “I called Wendy last night and twice this morning—no answer.”

I’ve opted to give Wendy a few days, but she will be speaking to me come hell or high water. I want to know what the girls know. I want to know what happened.

“Shit,” Lexi sighs.

We’re out the doors of the courthouse and halfway down the steps when I hear, “Demi!” Turning, I find Roxy in her biker babe gorgeousness, gorgeous blonde hair down her back, long legs only accentuated by three-inch heels and a tight-fitting top.

“Who the fu—” Lexi begins before I interrupt her.

“Roxy,” I say, surprised.

“Did they deny him bail?” she asks, skipping any formal greeting.

“No,” I answer. “He should be out by this afternoon.”

She sighs with relief, her hand moving to her stomach as if it just unfurled itself, and she’s found relief. “Thank goodness. Ever since he called me last night I’ve been a nervous wreck.”

The blood drains from my face. Connor used his one phone call to call Roxy?

To call Roxy.

Not me.

Roxy.

I stare at her blankly, unable to process her words. Why wouldn’t he call me?

There are few times my sister’s big mouth and verbal vomit have ever benefitted me, but when Lexi asks, “Are you guys a couple?” I could kiss her. It’s the million dollar question. Enquiring minds want to know—well my enquiring mind wants to know anyway.

Roxy smirks and looks genuinely shocked. “Oh no, honey.” Then she looks at me and her brows furrow, her expression softening, “You thought Connor and me . . .”

“At one time . . . I assumed,” I choke out, maintaining a calm demeanor. “You stay over a bit . . . I don’t know. It’s not really my business.” Is it? Connor said they were only friends.

Roxy blinks a few times. “Had you never heard of me before we met in your driveway that night?”

I furrow my brows in confusion. “No. Should I have?”

Roxy closes her eyes, and her shoulders fall as she exhales. “Oh, Blake,” she breathes as if he can hear her.

My eyes widen, unsure if the name that just fell from her lips was that of my deceased husbands. Did I hear that right?

“Did you just say, Blake?” Lexi asks, her voice rising an octave.

Roxy opens her eyes and bites her lip, an expression of . . . guilt maybe? “Could we go somewhere else and have a cup of coffee? There are some things you should know. Things about Blake and Connor.”

My stomach is in a million tiny knots, but I nod, and we walk across the street to a small café. Walking between Roxy and Lexi, I realize how terrible I look. They’re in heels and sexy clothes—granted Lexi doesn’t look as fresh as Roxy, but she’s doing better than me. I look like I’ve been wearing the same clothes for days. As we walk, Roxy begins explaining.

“I hate that I’m the one to tell you these things Demi. Blake said he would . . . one day. But I guess he ran out of days.”

Lexi looks at me and opens her mouth, but I shake my head. I don’t want Lexi flipping out on Roxy because then I might never know what Roxy knows. And right now, I desperately need to know what Roxy knows.

“Were you and Blake . . .” I can’t even say it. Lovers? Were they? God, Blake, how could you?

“No, no, no,” Roxy says, adamantly. “Blake loved you. He’d never have cheated on you.”

“Thanks for telling us who Blake is,” Lexi snaps.

“Lex,” I warn.

Roxy, undeterred by Lexi’s attitude continues. “I met Blake in a group for sexual abuse victims.” I don’t even get a chance to absorb her words as we arrive at the café and she opens the door, walking in. Lexi and I stand outside for a moment, speechless. This is a first for her. My sister is rarely at a loss for words. After a moment, I follow Roxy inside, figuring if I want to feel any less confused I better go in and listen to what she has to say. We’re seated, upon Roxy’s request, at a table in the back where it’s more private. We all order coffee and no one speaks a word until our server has delivered our beverages and left.

“In a group for the sexually abused?” I begin, quietly, leaning in. “That makes no sense . . . Blake wasn’t a victim of sexual abuse.”

Roxy’s eyes immediately move down to her mug in front of her. “That you know of,” she says, quietly.