28. Catalina
Chapter twenty-eight
Catalina
The call comes Thursday.
The call comes from a woman at the county I have dealt with for years, a decent person doing a required job.
Sebastian submitted a sworn supplemental complaint with the arena security report and witness names attached.
It alleges that Finn used his status as my placement to intimidate Sebastian on my behalf.
Combined with my earlier recusal, the county now has a documented public incident and an allegation of improper personal interest. She has to expand the review. The hearing is moved up.
I set the phone down. For one second I’m not the woman who runs this place.
Something goes off behind my sternum like a dropped glass, a bright shatter I feel more than hear, and my hand finds the edge of the counter because the floor isn’t quite where I left it.
Then the training takes over, the way it always does, and I go still, and I watch the rest of it fall the way you watch a glass you’ve already knocked off the counter, knowing before it lands there’s no catching it.
I ask the only questions that matter. What can the county do before the hearing? What happens to the other placements if I keep Finn here? The answers are worse than the notice.
If I retain him while the conflict investigation is open, the county can freeze new referrals and suspend contract reimbursements pending a suitability hearing.
That would put every man housed here at risk, not only Finn.
A transfer removes the immediate conflict and keeps the rest of the program operating while the county decides what Sebastian’s complaint is worth.
I have spent my whole life being the person who makes the second choice. It is all I know how to be.
He comes to the barn that night and I’m waiting for him, and I’ve put the wall all the way back up, higher than it’s ever been, because I know if I leave a single gap he’ll find it.
“Hey.” He’s still lit up from a win, and there’s something new in how he carries himself since the stall, something settled, and I have to do this to exactly that, to the best version of him, the one I made.
“You’re up,” he says, and starts to smile.
“The county expanded the suitability review.” I keep my voice level because it’s the only way the words come out.
“My recusal is already in the file, and now they have a sworn complaint and witnesses tying your threat at a public event to me. If I keep you here while they investigate, they can freeze every placement and suspend the contract before the hearing. Transferring you removes the immediate conflict and keeps the other men housed.”
He goes still. “Catalina.”
“I’ve already spoken to the county about a transfer.
There’s a program outside Boerne that will take you to finish out your supervision.
It’s a good placement, and the drive to the rink is shorter.
You’ll be fine there.” Every word costs me a year and I don’t let one of them show on my face.
“This is the responsible call. It protects the other placements while the county reviews the conflict. And it gets you somewhere you are not the story.”
“Don’t do this.” Quiet, not angry. His restraint does more damage than anger would. “Whatever this is, let me help. Tell me what is happening. Don’t decide it alone.”
“There’s nothing to help with. It’s a business decision, and it’s made.” I make myself hold his eyes. “You’re a good worker, Finn. You’ll finish strong somewhere else.”
A good worker. I watch it hit him. I watch me reduce the man who talked a thousand pounds of terror off my ranch hand down to a good worker, and I do it on purpose, because a clean cut heals and a ragged one festers, and if I’m going to take his legs out I’m going to do it in one stroke.
He looks at me for a long moment, and whatever he sees, he stops fighting.
“Okay,” he says. Just that. And he turns and walks back toward the bunkhouse in the dark, and he doesn’t slam anything, and he doesn’t beg, and the not-begging is so much worse.
I make it to the rail before my legs go. Bonita’s there, worn out from her own bad night, and she reaches over and puts her head against me, the way she’s started to, the way she does for him, and that does it. The last board comes out of the wall.
I come apart at the rail because Finn doesn’t merely see me.
He knows me: the management, the fear, the whole difficult shape.
He still wants to absorb the hit with me.
Sebastian spent three years showing me how powerful he was.
Finn asked to stand in the weather at my side, and I wouldn’t even tell him it was raining.
I cut him loose to protect him and used the same control that made my life safe and empty in the first place.
I did this. Not Sebastian. Me.
Bonita stands and takes it. She doesn’t spook, and she doesn’t move away. She holds still under a crying woman in the dark, steady, the way he taught her to be, or the way she taught him, I don’t even know anymore which of them learned it first.
I saved everything tonight.
It’s the worst thing I’ve ever done, and I did it on purpose, and that’s not the same as being right. I know the difference. I’m now the sort of woman who pushes forward, regardless.