Justice Mine: a Base Branch Novel by Megan Mitcham Read Free Book Online Page A

sitting up straight with both feet on the floorboard, she vowed to make the most of them. First, she needed to get in touch with her thesis advisor, apologize for bungling their meeting this morning, and beg for another chunk of her time. Second, she had to talk to Willow and get a read on her friend’s emotional state before she started flat shopping. The incessant clapping of leather to heel started again just before the car pulled to a stop. The driver hopped out, opened her door, and set her belongings on the curb.
    By the gods, she didn’t want to move out. She also didn’t want to think about Law Pierce ever again. After thanking the driver, since Law had already paid the man, she grabbed her bags and trudged to her flat. The letter she found on the middle of her kitchen table and the lingering image of Law’s stirring gaze said both were inevitable.
    Mags,
    I’ll treasure our friendship always, but we’ve outgrown one another. I’m going to stay at my father’s for the week. This should give you time and space to move.
    - Will
    Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her view of the trendy furnishings. They all belonged to Willow. After all, she had a gallery job that paid her well, a budding career as an artist, and a mother and father who lavished her with everything she desired. Mags had student loans, a never-ending college career, and no mother.
    Negative Nancy.
    Mags blinked away the moisture.
    You have a loving father, devoted brother, and finally you have some direction about you. So, don’t get in a tizzy about a change of address.
    But the tears were about more than that. They seeped from her eyes for the certain death of a friendship. Strap a toe tag on that shit, ‘cause it’s only a matter of time before the rigor sets in. Magdalena slumped onto a kitchen chair and let the grief take hold. Disappointment. Regrets. Uncertainty. They fell like raindrops on the painted surface. Her stomach burned, a deep sear of anguish.
    When the drips slowed, Mags raised her head toward the sky and squeezed her eyes shut. Enough. She stood with a huff and marched into her room. On the bright side, she didn’t have much to move. The few valuables she possessed stayed in her room at her dad’s house. In fact, most of her things were in London. She’d moved everything home during their flat transition since she’d already scheduled the internship with the UN. She only brought the essentials and decor stuff to the new place.
    Mags grabbed her phone and dialed Mrs. Fry’s office, ready to beg for a reschedule. Again plans didn’t go her way. The line only rang and rang in her ear.
    “Screw it.” She tossed the phone onto the bed and propped her hands on her hips. The warmth of the room taunted her. Its billowy white curtains and soft violet bedding, even the collection of smiling faces above her bed, seemed caustic. Two steps brought her even with the masks of happiness the people wore in the photos. She started by the door, pulling the thickly laminated paper from the wall. Some ripped, the staples refusing to vacate the premises, like she should. But nothing good would come from staying in a place she was no longer wanted.
    The stack grew in her hand.
    Wide grins and drinks in the air. A string of girls hooked arm-in-arm in front of a stage. Skirts short and tops low. Heels high. A couple in an embrace. Sultry party face in place. He blew a kiss. He held her hand. He dipped her in a kiss. His hands covered her breasts, the playful look of surprise stretching his mouth. He hugged her. He spun her. His arm draped over her.
    All the he’s were interchangeable. None of them special other than they’d made her feel that way. She hadn’t been alone and for that she’d loved them. For a moment.
    Mags dislodged another faceless guy and stared at him, struggling to recall one unique thing about him and found none. Except the chap standing behind him. Her hand began to shake.
    It was the weasel that beat the shit out of