Chapter 7 #2
Bozo shows up around noon with food. "Tank said you haven't eaten."
"I'm not hungry."
"Eat anyway."
He shoves a sandwich at me and I take it, eat it without tasting it.
"You good?" he asks.
"Yeah."
"You're lying."
"Yeah."
He sits down on a crate and watches me work. "This about Diesel's daughter?"
"A bit."
"What's the other part?"
"Just shit from the past."
"The past has a way of showing up when we don't want it to."
I glance at him. "You ever hurt someone you cared about?"
"Yeah, plenty of times."
"And you're okay with it?"
"No, but I learned to live with it. You can't change the past, Rush. You can only decide what you do next."
"What if what you do next is the same as what you did before?"
"Then you deal with it, but you can't live your whole life afraid of what might happen."
He sounds like Tank and it makes me want to throw something.
"Everyone keeps telling me that," I say.
"Because it's true. You're so busy punishing yourself for the past that you're not letting yourself have a future."
"Maybe I don't deserve a future."
"Bullshit. Everyone deserves a future."
"Even people who hurt others?"
"Even them—especially if they're trying to be better."
I want to believe him but the doubt is still there, sitting heavy on my chest.
"Everly makes me want things," I say quietly.
"What kind of things?"
"Good things—a life that's not just survival, someone to come home to, something normal."
"And that scares you."
"Yeah."
"Because you think if you want it, you'll destroy it."
"I know I will. Every time I've wanted something good, I've ruined it."
Bozo stands up and puts his hand on my shoulder. "Or maybe every time you wanted something good, you were too young or too scared or in an impossible situation. But you're not thirteen anymore, Rush. You're not that kid with a gun trying to save his sister."
"Aren't I? Because it feels the same. The fear feels the same. The certainty that I'll hurt someone feels the same."
"Feeling it and doing it are different things."
Everyone keeps saying that like it makes a difference.
But it doesn't, not really.
Because the capacity for violence is still there, just under the surface, waiting.
And Everly makes me want to let my guard down, makes me want to believe I'm capable of being something good.
That's what's dangerous.
Not the violence itself, but the belief that I'm safe.
Because the second I believe that is the second I'll prove myself wrong.
Monday afternoon, I find myself outside Trinity again. I've stopped pretending I have a reason.
Everly comes out around four with Maya. They're laughing about something and the sound carries across the street.
She's wearing jeans and a green sweater, her hair is down, and she looks happy.
My chest tightens watching her.
She makes me want things I have no business wanting, makes me think about a future instead of just getting through the day.
With her, I could have something good, something real, something normal.
And that terrifies me.
Because every time I've wanted something good, I've destroyed it.
Octavia tried to help me and I shot her.
Ruby needed me and I ended up in juvie, unable to protect her.
My mom loved me and I broke her heart when I got arrested.
The pattern is clear: I ruin the people I care about.
And Everly deserves better than that.
She deserves someone who won't hurt her, someone who won't make her question whether caring is worth the risk.
Someone who's not carrying the weight of shooting someone kind.
But watching her laugh with Maya, watching her live her life without the guilt I carry, I want it so badly I can't breathe.
I want to be the person she thinks I am when she looks at me.
I want to be someone who deserves her kindness, her challenge, her sharp tongue.
I want to be good.
But wanting doesn't change what I am, doesn't erase what I've done.
Doesn't change the fact that I'd hurt Octavia all over again if it meant saving Ruby.
That's the truth I can't escape, the horror that follows me everywhere.
I'm capable of hurting people I care about when the stakes are high enough.
And with Everly, the stakes feel impossibly high.
Because I'm falling for her, and that makes her someone I could hurt.
Someone I could destroy in my desperation to keep her safe or to protect what matters.
She gets on the bus and disappears and I get on my bike. I ride until I end up at the coast.
The Irish Sea is gray and cold and endless. The wind cuts through my jacket but I don't feel it.
I stand on the cliff and think about what Tank and Bozo said, about not living my life afraid.
But the fear is rational; it's based on evidence, on a pattern I can't ignore.
I hurt Octavia because I was desperate to save Ruby.
What happens when I'm desperate to keep Everly safe?
What happens when someone threatens her and that violence under my skin demands to be let loose?
I know what happens. I've seen it before.
Someone kind ends up bleeding and I end up living with the guilt.
I can't do that to her. I can't make her another person I care about who gets hurt because of me.
But I also can't seem to stay away, can't seem to stop wanting her.
And that's the real problem—the wanting doesn't stop no matter how many times I tell myself it should.
Tuesday morning, Pyro calls me into the chapel before I've even had coffee.
"Sit," he says, and his tone tells me this isn't good.
I sit and wait. My hands are relaxed on my thighs but my mind is racing.
"Diesel called," Pyro says.
My stomach drops. "About what?"
"About his daughter. Apparently, word got back to him that you're watching her, following her around Dublin."
"I'm doing my job."
"Your job is to make sure she's safe, not stalk her." Pyro leans forward. "I've got reports of you outside Trinity multiple times a week, outside her flat, outside restaurants. That's not protection, Rush. That's obsession."
"I'm making sure she's safe."
"From what? She's in Dublin in broad daylight surrounded by people. She doesn't need you lurking in the shadows."
He's right and I know it, but knowing doesn't change the need to keep her in my line of sight.
"Back off," Pyro says. "Diesel's getting suspicious and if he finds out you're interested in his daughter, it's not going to end well."
"I'm not interested."
"Bullshit. I've seen the way you look at her. We all have."
I don't answer because what can I say?
He's right, I am interested. I'm more than interested.
I'm falling for her and it's going to destroy everything.
"I'll back off," I say finally.
"Good, because if you don't I'll have to pull you off this assignment and that'll raise questions we don't want to answer. Diesel's already suspicious. One more report and he's going to fly to Dublin himself."
The thought of Diesel showing up makes my chest tight. He'd know in seconds, would see it written all over my face.
"I said I'll back off."
"Make sure you do, because this isn't just about you anymore. This is about club politics and Diesel's relationship with us. You fuck this up and it affects everyone."
He dismisses me and I leave the chapel. My jaw is tight and my hands are clenched.
Back off, he said.
Stay away from Everly.
It's the smart move, the right move, the only move that makes sense.
But knowing that doesn't make it easier, doesn't stop the wanting, doesn't change the fact that she makes me believe I could be something good.
Even if I know that's dangerous.
Even if I know believing that is how someone gets hurt.
I get on my bike and ride—no destination, just riding.
I end up back at the clubhouse and find Tank waiting.
"Pyro told me," he says.
"Yeah."
"You gonna listen?"
"I don't have a choice."
"You always have a choice."
"Not this time. If I don't back off, Diesel's going to find out and then everything goes to shit."
Tank nods. "So what are you going to do?"
"Stay away from her, do my job from a distance, stop following her around like some obsessed asshole."
"And if she comes to you?"
The question makes my chest tight because I haven't thought about that.
What if Everly comes to me? What if she pushes like she did Friday night?
"I don't know," I say.
"You’d better figure it out, because from what I've seen she's not the type to give up easy."
He's right. Everly's persistent and sharp and she doesn't back down.
But maybe if I stay away long enough she'll move on, find someone who's not carrying the weight of shooting someone kind.
Someone who's not one bad day away from proving he's exactly the monster he thinks he is.
Someone who deserves her.
I want that for her even if it kills me.
Because she deserves good things and I'm not one of them.
No matter how much I want to be.