That was easier said than done. Especially after I’d looked up the sentencing guidelines for manslaughter. Murder in the second degree was worse, of course. That could mean as much as life in prison. But manslaughter meant prison, too.

“There isn’t much we can do, except wait.” Evan turned his gaze directly on Logan. “And stay out of trouble.”

“Why are you looking at me?”

“I’m just saying the last thing we need is another Bailey behind bars. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Logan grumbled something incoherent and slumped back against the couch.

I leaned my head against Logan’s shoulder and twisted my ring around my finger. I wished I could at least see him. I’d tried on Sunday morning, but they’d told me no visitors. It hadn’t helped much that they’d been apologetic about it.

I’d wanted to yell at them. To lose my cool and scream that it wasn’t fair. Instead, I’d accepted their assurances that I’d be able to see him soon, and left.

Left him there. Alone.

My breath felt shaky and tears stung my eyes. I chewed on the inside of my lip, fighting them back. I couldn’t fall apart. Not now. I had to stay strong.

I didn’t know what tomorrow was going to bring. My future was once again hazy, the road I traveled shrouded in fog. But I knew one thing: I wasn’t giving up on him. Not now. Not ever.

No matter what happened, no matter how bad things got, Asher was mine. And I would always belong to him.

16

Asher

My heart thumped uncomfortably hard and I shook my leg under the table. Sitting still was impossible. I was too agitated. There was nothing like robbing a man of all semblance of control over his life to make him restless.

Sean took the seat across from me. He’d met with the prosecutor this morning, but I couldn’t tell anything by his expression.

“Here’s where we are,” he began, his tone all business. “The prosecution agreed to reduce the charges, so it’s no longer murder. It’s manslaughter. Unfortunately, they’re insisting on manslaughter in the first degree, instead of second.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means a longer sentence. The standard range is six and a half to eight and a half years for someone without a criminal history. The prosecutor agreed to eight. That’s a win, considering you have a prior assault charge.”

Eight years. I shifted in my seat.

“I highly recommend you take this. If it goes to trial, you’re back to facing second-degree murder charges. Yes, you were defending your fiancée, and most people would understand that. But Asher, the eye-witness accounts support the prosecution’s assertion that your martial arts training means you have to be held to a different standard. The police reports show you tore through two men to get to the victim. That took more than blind rage, it took skill. They’ll argue that you should have stopped when you neutralized the threat—before the altercation turned deadly.”

My chest felt like it was being crushed. Deep down, I knew he was right. As much as I wanted to fight my way out of this, I couldn’t. There wasn’t a way out.

“Do you need some time to think about it?” he asked.

“No.” My voice ground out of my throat. “I’ll accept it.”

He nodded slowly, and I didn’t miss the sympathy in his expression. “You’re making the right decision, Asher. I’ll notify the prosecutor. You’ll remain here until the plea hearing.”

“When will that be?”

“Probably a week.”

“That fast?”

“Yeah. In a small community like this, the courts aren’t usually too backlogged. Things move quickly, especially with a plea bargain.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, still shaking my leg. Fuck, this was really happening.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Can I see anyone?”

“I should be able to arrange for a visitor. Do you want to see Grace?”

Just hearing her name felt like a knife to the chest. It took me a second to reply, and when I did, my voice was hoarse. “Yeah. Please.”

“Okay.”

Another day went by before I heard anything. It gave me time to let it all sink in. In some ways, I felt better. The uncertainty had been driving me crazy. At least now I knew.

I tried to cling to the fact that it wasn’t life in prison. It was eight years. I’d be getting out by the time I was thirty.

But eight years in a state penitentiary was a long fucking time.

And when it was over, it wasn’t like I’d be able to come home and pick up where I’d left off, as if it had been nothing but an interruption. I’d be a convicted felon. Unlike my juvenile assault charge, it couldn’t be sealed someday. It was never going away. I’d always have a record.

Which meant I’d never be a career firefighter. Never be a fire inspector, or one day fire chief. All my plans for my life, everything I’d been working toward—it was all gone.

And now I had a mountain to climb. One that was brutal and mercilessly cold. There was only one thing I could do. Survive. And it was going to take everything I had.

Like a man planning for his impending death, I wrote letters to Gram and my brothers. I let them know how sorry I was to have done this to them. How much I hated that I had to leave them like this. I told Gram I loved her, and not to worry about me. To focus on my brothers, because they’d need her more than ever. And I told my brothers to keep their shit together, and to take care of each other, no matter what.

But Grace… I had to face her in person. I knew what I had to do. It was going to rip my insides out to do it, but I didn’t have any other choice. I had to do what was best for both of us. For her, because she deserved a future. And for me, because this was the only way I’d survive.

The handcuffs bit into my wrists. I twisted my hands, feeling the pull of cold metal. Deputy Spangler had apologized for having to cuff me before taking me to the interview room. I told him I understood.

I felt strangely calm. Almost numb again. Somewhere in the back of my brain, I knew I was doing it on purpose. Pulling away. Constructing defenses. I was coming to terms with my fate—with my future. I hated it, but it was inevitable.

The door opened and I almost couldn’t look up. Grace paused and her eyes landed on me, her heartbreak written all over her face.

And something inside me broke.

This was my fucking fault. I wasn’t going to make this worse. I’d ruined my life. I sure as hell wasn’t going to keep ruining hers.

Deputy Spangler directed her to the other chair. She didn’t have anything with her. No purse. Not even a coat. They must have searched her before letting her come back here.

At least I wasn’t behind a glass wall. That was one good thing about this small-town sheriff’s office.

Spangler gave me a short nod, then left the room, closing the door behind him. I had no idea if he was supposed to leave us alone or not, but I was grateful to not have an audience.

“Hey.” Grace’s voice shook. “I want to ask if you’re okay, but of course you’re not.”