Chapter 39 #2
“I didn’t,” he confirms. “Not until…” He glances at me again, and I think I see one of his hands go to the pocket of his coat before he clears his throat and puts his hand back where it’d been, empty.
“After I killed him, I thought if I helped other people...helped other good folks who’d crossed paths with the bad in the world. ..”
I think of Clayton back in Soldana, how adamant he had been that Aiden was a hero for something he’d done for a family he knew. As well as, I suspect, why Aiden didn’t have all the “earnings” from his time as a gunslinger, the ones Maddock believed he’d already spent.
“Did you charge them? A fee?” I ask, already knowing the answer even before Aiden’s head whips in my direction.
“No,” he snarls, as if the idea is abhorrent to him. “They’d already lost enough without someone trying to make a profit on it.”
I nod, pleading uselessly with the stars again before I fall back against the roof. “Thought that was what you were going to say.”
“Do you?” Aiden asks, looking down at me while I stare up at him with what can only be described as pining devotion. Not that he notices. “Do you ever charge? For the people you kill?”
“Nope.”
“But you keep the money you take from them?”
“Sometimes,” I tell him truthfully. “I keep some of what I win. Use it to keep up appearances. To get myself from place to place. To get us from place to place,” I test.
That full mouth of his presses into a thin line, but he doesn’t correct me before he asks, “To buy watches?”
I grin. “On one occasion…”
Aiden rolls his eyes. “And what do you do with the rest of it?” He pauses, hesitating. “What did you do with the money you took tonight?”
I frown, wishing I’d been the one to bring it up first. “Tom tell you?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“And you’re concerned I’m keeping it from you?”
Aiden considers. “Strangely enough…no, I’m not. Figure we had more pressing issues at the time, but I’d like to know now.”
“It’s hidden in the barn along with Maddock’s money, stashed behind the loose sideboard in the empty stall,” I tell him, relieved he chose to trust me on this at least. “Of course, half of it is yours, so I wanted to discuss it with you before I do what I usually do.”
A cautious look comes over his face. “What is it you usually do?”
“You might not like the answer.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“All right.” I take a bracing breath. “I burn it.”
His mouth falls open. “You what?”
“I burn the money.”
“Why?”
“I’ve heard it’s the root of all evil.”
He snorts, shaking his head. “Thought you weren’t religious.”
“I never said that.”
“Oh?” He arches an eyebrow at me. “You’re telling me you believe in God?”
I cock my head, still staring up at him, and I really could get used to this view. “Why? Still wondering when you’ll be able to see me on my knees?”
“Fuck’s sake.” He huffs out a laugh then drops down next to me, still close but not so close that we’re touching as we lie side by side. “You ever think about what’s coming out of your mouth before you say it?”
“Always.”
“I’m not sure if that makes it better or worse.”
“Better,” I say, turning my head toward him. “Because then you know I mean it.”
I see his jaw tense, the way he swallows as he keeps his eyes on the sky, and I bet that if the sun were up, I’d be able to see him blush. My favorite of his expressions, which is why it’s so hard for me to do anything that would make it go away.
“What made you quit?” I ask. I need to know the ending as much as I do the beginning, and I’m not sure when this opportunity might present itself again. “What made you believe it was enough?”
Beside me, he breathes slowly, a deep in and out that catches once, twice, before he manages, “No matter how many I killed, it wasn’t helping.
Wasn’t bringing them back. No more than it was bringing back anyone else, and…
After a while, all it felt like I was doing was losing more.
Like one side of my balance sheet was just getting longer while the other stayed empty. ”
“Your balance sheet?” I ask. “As in, your list of sins? Do you believe there is one?”
“Sometimes. That orphanage I was sent to after my parents died… It was Catholic.”
He shoots me a look, daring me to say something, but though I feel extremely satisfied at being right, telling him so doesn’t feel important at present. “Go on,” I simply say.
“They were pretty clear there about what happens to sinners, and I guess, I figure if there really is a heaven, it might be my only…” he continues hesitantly, although when he pauses again, I suspect the sentence ends differently in his mind than what I get to hear.
“Figure at some point I should start trying to earn forgiveness.”
“I see,” I say, considering the idea. “In that case, can I ask you something?”
He eyes me warily. “I suppose.”
“Do you regret it? Doing what you did? The families you helped get justice?”
He blows out a long breath. “No, I can’t say I do. At least, I don’t regret doing what I did, so much as I maybe regret what it cost me. But, even if it didn’t bring me peace, each of those men…”
“Needed killing?” I offer.
“Yeah,” Aiden says, the ghost of a determined look on his face. “They did.”
“You know, wolf,” I start to say, and even though he doesn’t turn his head to acknowledge me, I can tell he’s listening. “I am not religious.”
He closes his eyes. “You just said—”
“Hold on, let me finish,” I interrupt, nudging his side. “I am not religious in a traditional sense. However, to play devil’s advocate—”
“You would.”
“—my understanding is you have to repent in order to be forgiven.”
He mulls that over, too. “Suppose you do.”
“Something to consider.” I shift on the bedroll, intending to have the stars be the last thing I see before I close my eyes. “Not that I would mind you keeping me company in damnation, wolf.”
“Cypress.”
“Hm?” I turn my head to him, only to find him already staring at me this time, making me increasingly aware of the space where my hand is resting between us, his own near enough that I can feel the heat from his palm.
“Why do you call me wolf?”
“Maybe because it suits you,” I hedge, even knowing now would be the time to tell him the rest. But I don’t want to lose him again. “Or maybe because I’ve just always wanted to be friends with a wolf.”
He laughs. “Friends. I’m not sure I would call us— the fuck are you grinnin’ for?”
I shrug, still smiling. “Because you’re right…we are not friends.” His eyes search mine, but I’m the one that sees the flash of disappointment in his. “What we are, Aiden…I hope the appropriate word is inevitable.”
“An inevitable pain in my ass,” he mutters back, but he’s smiling now, too.
Right up until I suggest, “Do you want me to help you back down the roof?”
He shakes his head. “No. Not ready for that yet. Might stay up here for a bit and go down later.”
“All right.” My heart thunders in my chest as his eyes find mine again, and if I could choose, this would be what I see before I close my eyes every night. “Tell me when you’re ready.”
He nods. “Okay, Cy, I’ll tell you.”