Chapter Thirty-Eight #2
He could hear the crunch of gravel in the distance, and shoved upright again, moving outside and onto the porch, through the door.
Charlie had just turned down the light in the loft, and he could see her through the rails, leaning over as she tucked a blanket around Daisy, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead and petting back her hair.
Still so smoking in her shimmery black blouse, her turquoise bangles, her heeled western boots and denim, like a goddess in a country boy’s fantasy, and yet, her smile … it had come so easy tonight as the songs had progressed.
And it was gone now as she crept down the stairs, unzipping her boots.
If the silence persisted, he was going to crawl out of his skin.
“Charlie,” he croaked, as headlights flashed in the window and the cars outside grew louder on the gravel path. “We gonna talk about this?”
Heading toward his house?
She slowed to a stop, her back to him, listening, when the headlights pulled up and doors slammed. Walkies staticky in the distance.
The police.
Charlie glanced through the window and tensed. But T.R.’s jaw tightened. All of a sudden, he knew what was coming. Daisy stirred in the loft, and hell, but he couldn’t let her see her T. Rex fallen from grace.
Charlie’s head whipped around to him, and he felt his eyes sting.
He blinked. Fuck. It was all about to come out. He should have told her. Should have known by now, he was never going to win, because when the truth came out about him, he was going to lose the girl he’d announced tonight had clipped his wings.
The officers crunched across the gravel. Thudded up the steps onto the deck. Knocked on the door.
Charlie, her eyes … the vision of them widening, of them hurting, was going to gouge him for the rest of his life.
“I’m sorry,” was all he could breathe. “I’m gonna step outside, okay? Don’t want the girl to wake up and see this. Just, please, stay inside—”
Flashlights and men, decked in sidearms and earpieces and police vests were lining his steps.
A knock thumped. Daisy stirred again. He opened the door.
He was guilty. Just like in New York.
*
“Thaddeus McClintock?”
Thad nodded once. Sickness twisted in Charlie’s belly, at police infiltrating their protected bubble in this cabin filled with happy memories.
“Step outside, please.”
He stepped through the door as if to shield her from what was to come. She followed him anyway.
“You’re under arrest for second-degree assault and battery of one Jason Thompson, and for leaving the scene of a crime.”
What? The show had to go on! They’d been in the middle of the set! He’d defended her! That illness brewed, taking in the shame on Thad’s face, the stony blankness.
Her heart had been beating overtime since the moment Thad had ripped Jason off her and pummeled him to the ground. The need to protect him, to pull him away and get back to their normal, kept nagging her heart.
She had to speak up before Jason painted some false picture of victimhood, even if seeing him brutalize Jason had hit hard. Like some primal switch had flipped in him and he couldn’t see or hear anything, proof of what he was capable of.
He’d been distant. He’d barely held her hand since then, let alone spoken more than a handful of words.
“Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”
The headlights blinded. Tyler’s truck was racing up the switchbacks to the cabin, engine revving and gravel flying.
Thad did as they asked, even as the officers began to tense at the oncoming truck.
“Who’s that?” one of them asked.
T.R. opened his mouth to speak—
“His lawyer,” Charlie interjected. “And tonight, he was defending me. He didn’t do anything wrong. We were hired to play there, and my ex, he—”
“Please step aside, ma’am,” an officer silenced her, as the police walkies continued their staticky transmissions, when another communication came over the police walkie.
“McClintock’s no virgin here … prior up in New York City eight years ago. Some domestic assault and battery case … looks like convicted and served time…”
Domestic assault. Domestic assault.
The words echoed like cans kicked down an empty alley in her mind. Convicted.
Charlie froze, the words jolting shock through her heart. Her eyes lifted to his. His blues were blank. Dull.
The sudden realization…
She gasped for air, feeling her knees give out. Domestic battery … Thaddeus, her light, her stalwart, hardworking man who’d earned her trust and would never strike a woman … had?
“Charlie,” he croaked, his eyes red-rimmed—
She flinched back at the sound of his hoarse plea. He might have stepped outside to shield Daisy from the scene, but she now realized he’d been trying to protect himself from her judgment. He’d not wanted her to hear this part. Because he’d known what was coming.
He’d lied to her. This whole time. As long as you don’t have a record… Not once had he told her he did. She shook her head.
“Can you tell us what happened?” an officer asked him, but Charlie’s mind was reeling. Noises were coming from every direction.
“Her ex was dragging her away. Slapped her hard … she’s my girl … was my girlfriend. Pretty sure she don’t wanna be anymore…”
His explanations came out dead, as cuffs were cinched around his wrists, and yet, the tear trickling down his cheek was unmistakable. This man wasn’t even arguing, wasn’t even trying to defend himself. An inkling took root. What exactly had happened in New York?
Tyler’s headlights sped to a stop, and he leapt out of the cab in a plume of dust kicked up in the police lights.
“Don’t say a word! Thaddeus, not a word!
” Tyler raced across the gravel as the officers whirled toward him and tensed, hands migrating to their sidearms. “Tyler Dixon, attorney. My client is invoking his right to silence and isn’t sayin’ another word until I’ve had time to confer with him, we got that straight? ”
*
T.R.’s pockets were patted. His legs were patted. His chest and arms and neck and crotch were patted. It only made him feel like more of a fish in a bowl to be stared at. Mom and Dad would be so proud, living up to their expectations, he thought wryly.
He hated that this was how it was ending.
Hated that Daisy would suffer the hardest, and that T.
Rex had let his wing girl down. Hated that he was never enough.
That he was never going to have the life he wanted, the roots he wanted, the legacy he’d always hoped to harness here, grasping at dreams on the wind.
Years of hard work, of being denied employment because he struggled to read, or because of this conviction on his record, or fired when he’d lied about priors because he’d been desperate for a job, any job, so he could stop living in his truck under overpasses. None of it had mattered in the end.
He was … weary.
His eyes connected with Charlie’s. So distant, so betrayed. Yeah, it was over. He’d aimed at the stars like the hopeful fool he’d always been. But things didn’t get better for him. There was nothing that would repair the damage done tonight.
“Don’t worry about me coming around, Flower Girl,” he said softly.
“I know I can’t fix this. I also wouldn’t’a done any different if it meant protecting you.
Just promise me you’ll press charges against him for hitting you.
Tyler’s still your best bet. Don’t walk away from a good thing because he’s related to me.
” Another tear streamed down his cheek, unashamed.
He gazed hard at her lips now, wishing he could have one more taste, then let himself be walked past her to the police cruiser and this time, unlike two weeks ago, he didn’t look back.
Something told him, he wasn’t going to get the same carte blanche that Jason had been getting all these years.
But even if he did, without his reason anymore, would it really matter?