Chapter 2
Shadow
Preacher arrives like a storm, and not the entertaining kind that you pull a chair up to the window or sit on the porch to watch. More like the destructive, flash flood, get down to your basement and take refuge kind.
I open the door for him and immediately retreat to the far side of the room.
I’m no coward, but when Preacher takes up space like this, I don’t want to get sucked into his emotional hurricane.
I’m clearly the one responsible for his bad mood and now I’m going to hear about it.
I wrack my brain trying to think about what I’ve done to piss him off and come up empty handed.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” He crosses his arms in his leather jacket. If a person didn’t know the guy, they’d probably find him scary on the days he’s not giving off huge golden retriever vibes.
“Why the hell would you lie to me?” He growls the words, but his voice doesn’t really have any bite to it. He’s confused and wounded. So am I. Lie to him? What the fuck is he talking about?
“You saved my daughter’s life, yet you came here like it was nothing at all? You kept all of this from me. You told me you were in a car accident!”
Ah shit. That lie.
“Hold on.” I fall back on what’s comfortable, and that’s being as much of an asshole externally as my brain is internally. “If we’re having this conversation, let me put the kettle on, and then I’ll get my phone. I have the perfect playlist.”
“Don’t be like that,” he grinds out between clenched teeth.
“What’s wrong, Preach? I’m hurt. You don’t wanna listen to my songs?”
Preacher glares at me. “Sit the fuck down.”
For a man of God—or at least a former man of God—he’s got a colorful vocabulary. I ignore him, cross my arms over my chest, and lean against the wall. “How did she find out?”
I might live under most people’s version of a rock, but I was dialed in the second I heard that Preacher’s daughter was moving to Hart.
She visited before, and that was bad enough.
But living here? I stayed well away from the clubhouse that whole week she was here.
Even going into the nightclub where I work felt dangerous.
I should have known it was only a matter of time before Fawnie put this together. I didn’t think it would happen so fast, but even so, I’m prepared.
I know what Preacher wants. An explanation. An apology, probably. Not for saving his daughter, but for lying to him about it. He won’t understand why I did it. Worse, he’ll want the one thing I’m not able to give.
I can already see it burning in his dark eyes. Even angry, they’re still kind. Most of the rage is fizzling away, leaving him with the barest form of confusion. He frowns at me, searching for the right words and clearly not finding them.
I do him a favor and start first so we can get this over with. “She’s looking for a white knight. She’s built up something in her mind. An image of a hero who ran into a burning building and saved her and her cat. I’m not that man.”
Preacher’s frown deepens. “But you are that man.”
“I was a man who saved the daughter of the man who once saved my life—or at least gave me enough of a reason to keep from ending it. You’ve been that twice over, but that don’t mean that I owe her anything.”
“It’s not about owing her and it’s not about owing me. For fuck’s sake, you’re the reason my daughter’s here today, and all this time I didn’t even know it.”
“Congrats on finding it out. Good talk.”
The extent of mine and Preacher’s relationship goes something like this—my mom moved us to Ohio.
She thought I was fucked up. She never considered the reason was due to the fact she’d pretty much ignored me throughout my childhood.
Instead of caring for her kid, she’d go off with the latest man who showed her interest. And they showed me interest too.
Not in that way, but with their fists. And when things didn’t work out—because they never worked out—she’d blame me.
Then she got religion and started going to church.
Rather than turning her life around, she got worse and started saying I was evil.
One time she dragged me there, I don’t know if she wanted them to try and fucking exorcise me or something, but it was the one good thing she did in my life.
Preacher was good shit. He knew I didn’t need religion, just that I needed someone on my side.
He looked out for me and steered me in the right direction.
When his marriage fell apart and things got ugly, he asked me if I might consider keeping an eye on his daughter.
She was younger than me. I argued it would be weird, and if I got caught doing it, she might think I was stalking her.
With the age difference between us, that would look exceptionally bad for me, and I’d never had a hardon about getting arrested.
He got that. We lived a few blocks over, so in the end, I told him that I’d try.
I was sixteen when Preacher left. As far as I know, Fawnie never met me before that night.
I was homeschooled. I didn’t go to church.
Our paths never crossed. I did what I promised and kept an eye out for her.
After the fire, I had nowhere else to go.
Preacher never changed his cell number, so I was able to contact him.
I fed him that story about the car accident and asked if he had a place for me to recover because I couldn’t go back home.
I got here and he took pity on my sorry ass, and then I joined the club when I was able.
End. Of.
“She knows that you’re here.”
My insides turn to stone, but on the outside… I’m also stone. I give nothing away because there’s nothing to give away. I’m a great liar. Sometimes, I even believe myself. “So fucking what? Tell her that I’m glad she’s okay, but I don’t want to see her. It would be pointless.”
“She’s not going to be dissuaded. Not about this. Not when she’s thought about you every single night since the fire happened.”
“That’s not my problem,” I spit callously. “You’re her father. Talk to her.”
“I promised myself that if she ever sought me out, the only thing I’d ever give her was my love and honesty. I’m not gonna lie to her, and other than that, she has free will. She’s a grown adult.”
“Her mother and my mother were the same kind of people. I have too much respect for you to let you know what I think about your ex-wife, but I’ll tell you that my mother was one of the smallest people I ever knew.
Closed-minded. Cruel. You know what she told me when I regained consciousness at the hospital?
That whatever happened to me was repayment for my sins.
When I needed just one person to look at me as if I wasn’t a monster, she condemned me.
That’s why I came out here. I had no insurance, no hope of getting a job.
I never even had my own vehicle. I’m shocked that the bus driver even let me on and let me stay on, looking like I did.
At least that old man was kind enough not to turf my bandaged ass off like the freakshow that I was. Am.”
“There are good people in the world.”
I roll my eyes. “I fucking know it. I don’t need a sermon.
What I want now is the same thing I’ve wanted since that night.
Solitude and privacy. I prospected with the club because you wanted me to.
At least it was a place to belong, but I only agreed because there’s others here more fucked up than I am. ”
“You won’t even talk to her? On the phone?”
My guts clench. The last thing I need is Preacher or his daughter giving me an ounce of pity disguised as hero worship.
It would be a stretch to say that I like my current life, but it’s comfortable enough, or at least the routine is.
I like shadows, and so I like the habit that brings them about for me to cling to.
“There’s nothing to say. She doesn’t need to thank me.”
“She moved here. I haven’t told her who you are, but she knows the man she’s looking for is in town. She’s smart. I can’t stop her from finding your address and showing up.”
There’s a small chance that I might have some trouble regulating my emotions.
Fine, temper. It bursts out now, scalding hot, directed at the person who deserves it the least. “Fuck off with this shit. Haven’t I given you enough already?
She comes here and wrecks my peace, and we’re done.
I love you like the dad my piece of shit father never was, I swear I do, but that won’t change anything. ”
I’m dangling dangerously close to the edge.
I want to ball my hands up and fucking scream until my lungs bleed.
I want to curl over and spit up all the black inside my soul.
All the hate festering there, the rage, the sadness, the disgust. One shove is all it will take.
Preacher’s here, my best friend in the world, a man who truly has been like a father to me, the best man I know, and he’s still shoving me right to the edge.
I wonder what he’d do if I had a meltdown of the century right here, right now.
I know what he’d do. He’d pick my sorry ass up and let me scream it out. He’d give me good advice, I’d nod and pretend I agreed. Maybe say what he wanted to hear so he’d leave me alone. Then as soon as he was out the door, I’d be bawling like a fucking baby.
That’s so pathetic in my mind that I cringe in real time.
“Hey.” Preacher swallows thickly. “I hear you. I’ll tell her that you value your privacy and that she needs to respect that.”
“No, you tell her what it’s like. That I’m no fucking hero, I’m a mess who just happened to be there when I was needed.
Tell her she needs to drop those stupid hero fantasies she’s harboring.
I don’t need saving and I don’t need more friends.
I have a job, this place, and the club and that’s enough. I don’t want any of that to change.”
“Okay.”