Chapter 26Rafe
Chapter 26
Rafe
F uck. I was a paranoid fucker. If I kept reacting the way I did, I was going to screw up this time with Rose. I was already lying to her by not sharing my entire story.
Omitting certain facts is a lie by any other name—right?
It was late Sunday morning, and I was over at Pete’s, replacing the shocks on his old beater. For a guy who’d always prided himself on owning the most up-to-date roasting equipment, he sure had a thing for junk cars.
The problem was he was getting too old and too arthritic to get down on the creeper and slide under the chassis. Of course, Pete would never admit to that, and I’d never say it to his face. However, he knew I knew cars and liked to keep my hand in, so to speak. When he had something tricky to fix (read: hard to get to), he’d call me. I’d come with my tools and stay afterward for a beer and a talk.
And did I ever need to talk this shit out.
Pete was the only one in Portland—well, anywhere—who knew everything about me. The good. The bad. And the criminally ugly. Although even I wasn’t dumb enough to think I’d be held liable twenty-five years later for boosting cars as a juvie. That statute of limitations had long run out.
I needed to get Pete’s advice on whether to tell Rose everything. Every fucking thing, including the real reason I started the enlistment process the week after I turned eighteen.
Rose was trusting me— me —with her beautiful body, her feelings, her hopes, her secrets, herself. And I didn’t deserve her trust. I wasn’t worthy of her trust.
I needed Pete to give it to me straight, to confirm what I already felt in my gut. He’d known Rose since she was young, knew everything she’d gone through. He’d do the right thing and tell me to be on my way before I broke her heart. And mine.
Job done, I rolled out from under the car in time to see Pete walk down the driveway, Princess trotting alongside. He lifted one hand to show two long-necked beer bottles dangling between his knuckles and motioned to his front porch. I stood, wiped my hands on a rag, snagged one of the bottles and followed them to settle with a groan on the padded porch swing. Another reason I didn’t flick Pete any shit about getting older—I had my share of aches and pains from the life I’d led.
Princess stretched out in front of me and heaved a sigh. I started to take a strong pull from the icy bottle when Pete said, “Okay, son. What’s got your boxers in a bunch?”
I choked and reared back from my bottle.
Fuck, was it that obvious I had something on my mind? Probably. Usually, I had no trouble talking with Pete about anything—I guessed my grunts and one-word answers and tight expression had given me away. I wouldn’t want him to think I was mad at him for the world. And I was here to get his thoughts about what, if anything, to tell Rose.
I didn’t know where to begin.
Pete solved that problem for me in short order. “Is this about Rose? You and Rose?”
I eyed him for a moment while I finally took a swallow of my beer. “How did you know that?”
“I hear things,” he shared. “I see things. And I know you.”
I raised my eyebrows. Ahhh…right, Liliana.
“So tell me,” he continued, “when are you coming back from Boise?”
Pete was always one for cutting to the chase.
“Nah…I wasn’t planning on it. Just got a call from that guy in northern California for a gig after Boise. Maybe you’ll have a line on some other jobs coming up.”
Pete frowned. “But I thought all that was before Rose…before you two got close. Isn’t she worth coming back for?”
“Since you know me and my history so well, do you think that’s a good idea?” I asked.
“What the hell are you talking about? Your military record?”
We were getting circular with all the questions, and I was frustrated. I jumped up, setting the swing in motion and startling my pup. I paced the porch in front of Pete, getting all worked up.
“Yes. No. I couldn’t keep my kids safe in the sandbox. No matter what I tried.”
“Bullshit,” Pete interrupted. “You can’t put that on your shoulders. You know as well as I do that half the deaths over there were due to IEDs.”
Still, you can’t help but feel responsible when it’s your kids, your unit.
I shook it off. “But, no. I’m talking about before. With the gang in Oakland.”
“That’s water under the bridge,” he protested. “That’s when you were a teenager. That’s not you today. Rose must know that.”
“I haven’t told her anything about that part of my life…yet.”
“What! Any of it?”
“Well, yeah, the earlier part. We talked about my mamma, her death, my time in foster care….” I trailed off. Well, not the dark times, but she didn’t need to know that shit.
“Rafe, tell her the rest. I know Rose, I knew her folks. Good people. I was around helping her dad start the roastery when she dropped out of school to come home and have Finn. Rose isn’t going to get all judgmental on your ass and think you’re a bad guy.”
I was still pacing back and forth, feeling my heart thumping harder and harder. I’m too young for a heart attack, right?
“That’s the whole point, Pete. She should see me as the bad guy. If it were just about stealing cars, that’d be one thing. Bad enough, jail time if I’d been caught, but not hurting anybody.”
I shook my head and slumped back down on the porch swing.
“How could she ever trust me again?” I whispered. “How would she feel about me if she knew I’d almost beat somebody to death?”
There was the heart of the matter.
It didn’t matter that my brothers and I had been in danger. It didn’t matter that the guy who’d surprised us when we were boosting his Chevy had popped his knife. What mattered was that I’d fucked him up when he’d attacked us, and I hadn’t even called the medics.
For me, that was the tipping point. The shame if Mamma had been alive. I got out of there by enlisting in the service. Outta the gang, outta Oakland, outta that life.
I hadn’t told Pete this shameful thing right away, either. No, it had taken a couple of years, some real-life war stories over beers and the realization that Pete was going to be the closest thing to a father before I opened up to him. I was still amazed he’d accepted me “as is.”
But it was different with Rose. Rose deserved a better man than me. I wasn’t worthy of her. And I damned sure didn’t want to be responsible for her just so I could fall down on the job again.
Pete knew it too, but he also believed in redemption. In forgiveness. In the power of love to solve everything. That was the way he was built.
So he wasn’t going to tell me what I needed to hear. That I could have this short time with Rose, safeguard her as best I could. That then I needed to get the hell gone so she could find a good man, a better man, for the long term.
Though the thought of Rose with another man made my gut wrench. Get a fucking grip, man—it’s gonna happen.
“Rafe. Son,” Pete said quietly. “Don’t make any decisions about Rose without Rose. I bet you’re not alone in this…this…whatever you call this thing you’ve got going on with her. So talk to Rose and trust her to do the right thing.”
I nodded my head slowly. He was right. I should talk to her, should tell her how I feel. But I had to be honest with myself—could I do that when I was so afraid?
Pete, smart guy that he was, got off the heavy-heavy. “Stay for lunch? Got the fixings for sandwiches if you’re interested.”
“Sure,” I agreed. I knew the old man was lonely, so I’d stay, and we’d talk some more about…other things.