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melodramatic. You're
twisting everything around. Always assuming the worst. I'm sure Daddy didn't
mean that at all." Olivia's eyes darted across the table, wanting him to
side with her. "Did you, Daddy?"
    Instead, he wiped his mouth with a napkin and
cleared his throat. "Jebediah Sayer is my closest friend. He's a good man
through and through. Brogan and Braden committed the unthinkable when they
murdered their stepfather in cold blood. Do I think people should be forgiven
for their crimes? Yes, I do. Do I agree that all sins are redeemable? To be
honest, I'm not sure. Whether those boys have been rehabilitated, that remains
to be seen. I just don't want either of my daughters finding out if they're
better men once they've done their time."
    The pot roast I'd been chewing suddenly dried to a
big glob of tasteless nothing inside my mouth. Olivia wouldn't look at me, and my
father wouldn't stop watching me. He cleared his throat again. "Olivia, I
believe this is the best roast I've ever eaten. You've really outdone yourself
this time."
    "Thank you, Daddy," she said quietly.
    Olivia thought that the sun rose and set on our
dad, but I could tell from the expression on her face that even she was having
a hard time swallowing his words.
    "I think it's a little dry," I managed
to say, pushing away from the table. I cleared my dirty dishes. There was so
much tension in the room, and I knew if I didn't get out of there, I would
choke.
    Finding a photo to send Braden wasn't easy. Nobody
printed actual pictures these days. While Olivia was downstairs, I crept into
her bedroom with my scissors and found her high school yearbook. She never
looked at the damn thing anyway. I knew she'd never notice a hole in one page.
Sure, I could have taken the image from my yearbook, but what fun would
that be?
    Hensteeth High School was tiny. My graduating
class consisted of around seventy seniors. I snipped the small black and white
photo from the page and quickly put the yearbook back where I found it. It was
last year's, but I hadn't changed much. I'd have to remind myself to look
through some of my selfies and find a good one to send him.
    Pleased with myself, I stuck the picture into an
envelope so I could mail it to Braden the next day.

CHAPTER EIGHT
    Braden
Sayer
     
    Her letters were like salve to my broken self.
What started out as something I was positive I'd have absolutely no interest in
pursuing had turned into something I actually looked forward to very much. Mail
from Claire always brought a smile to my face, no matter how shitty my day.
    I wouldn't assume she was interested in me for
anything more than pen pals, maybe friendship. From the very first letter, she
said she wasn't looking for a love connection. A guy could always dream, I suppose.
It wasn't easy for me to understand my feelings. I'd never felt this way before
and didn't want to confuse her kindness as something more than it was.
    Thoughts of her would be my undoing if I wasn't
careful. Waking up with morning wood was nothing new, but having a face and
name to go along with the dreams I was having made it nearly impossible to
think straight. Alleviating the pressure wasn't an easy option. Like I said
before, no privacy.
    I groaned and tried to find a position that wasn't
painfully embarrassing. My options were to lie there with my boner making a
tent out of the blanket, or to rub one off with the help of the thin mattress.
I waited until the last possible minute, thinking of everything I could to make
my hard-on wilt so I could dress for breakfast.
    My counselor Elsa had asked me to stop by her
office so we could talk about my potential early release. Anxiety knotted my
stomach, squelching any appetite I might have had. As much as I wanted to be
free, the thought of facing life on the outside scared me half to death. Many
kids couldn't deal with the transition and wound up right back in the system.
    Her office door stood wide open and I poked my
head around the corner to see