Page 7 of Boyfriend on Parole: The Care of Broken Things Extended Epilogue

Jenny patted at the boy’s head, the way she touched him was always reminiscent of an owner and her pet. “Don’t growl. We’re here to pick up Hailey’s present, remember?”

Hailey. Nathaniel, and now Jenny. Those were the only three on the approval list. Everyone else got treated with the blackest contempt. Darren’s glare deepened. “You know, even Eli pulls in an income, and doctoring is a useful skill. What do you bring to the table?”

If Nathaniel had said it Samuel would have been devastated. From Darren, thankfully, it was survivable. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Jenny was the only one pleased by the visit. She seemed to enjoy their less-than-stellar interactions. “Make sure you eat,” she said at the end the way she always did, “And stay by Rat’s side.”

He hardly needed the supervision. Thanks to Jethro who was still sponsoring the gourmet prison meals, he had become untouchable. In fact, all the prison bosses had come together to warn their gangs not to damage a single hair on his head. So really, there was no need to be nervous, but caution wasn’t such an easy thing to let go of. “I will.”

It was after the visit and just before dinner when he was called into the warden’s office. Rat could call him the favorite all he wanted, but that didn’t mean his anxiety didn’t ratchet up, same as everyone else’s would have, as he shut the door behind himself and came to her desk. “If this is about the flooding in the bathroom, I didn’t do it.”

She sighed. “It was Mathews. His girlfriend put him on some new diet. The cheap plumbing can’t handle those diamond shits. No, you should know why you’re here, and don’t you dare complain about the wait. I beat the deadline, haven’t I? And by a few months. Here.”

The paper she handed him was only a few lines of typed words—not nearly long enough to contain all that they promised. He stared at it. “I’m getting out.”

She stabbed at her salad. In all the years he’d known her she’d been bringing salads, but he’d never seen her get very far into one. “They tried to push for later, but I told them it would be better to have you out before next month’s inspection. Made it sound as if you might provoke questions. They took the hint. So congratulations, you’ll be out of my hair.

He kept staring at the words, there just as Rat said they would be. And really, why was he so shocked? Hadn’t he already gone through the process with Eli? His brain should have had a leg up on processing the news. But maybe that made it harder. As if his mind couldn’t comprehend having gotten so lucky twice in a row. Lightning wasn’t supposed to strike the same spot twice.

“Make sure to let your little cheerleaders know the news,” Cruces continued. “So I can finally stop getting those threatening calls and letters every week. I swear, I haven’t slept in nine months.”

He wasn’t sure what he told her after that. Or what she told him. He only realized he was standing out in the hall with a dazed expression when Arty found him.

“Okay, Fuller?”

It was difficult to form the words, sure they’d turn to lies the moment they were out of his mouth.

“I’m getting out.”

Norm showed no surprise. Not much of anything really. He wasn’t particularly expressive, but Samuel would always remember how the man had tried to protect Eli, and how devastated he’d been when the sabotage had happened.

“Oh good,” Rat said, coming into the hall. “You found him. Fuller, you brat, would it kill you to give me a heads up before you—”

“He’s getting out,” Norm said.

Rat was the first one to react appropriately. “What!” He snatched the paper from his hands. Easy enough to do when Samuel’s grip was so loose. He’d forgotten he was holding it.

“This says Tuesday. That’s less than a week. Am I an oracle? I’m an oracle, right? I should play the lottery when I get out.”

With the man’s reaction, he could feel his heart beginning to pump, the news becoming real. It brought panic with it. “What should I—what do I do?”

“Do? They’re letting you out.” Rat hammered at his shoulder. “You lucky bastard, going straight to fuck city, aren’t you? What a crock of shit. The ice queen getting not one, but two—”

He turned away from Rat and the smile that was becoming infectious. “I need to call. I need to—”

“You haven’t told them yet!” Rat finally left off hammering, though too late to save him. His shoulder was quite dead. The assault switched to his wrist, already pulling. “What are you waiting for!”

But they stopped nearly as soon as they started, Rat filling with all kinds of plans. “Wait! How are you going to tell them? It has to be good. No, it has to be in person. Saturday, right? We should tell them then. Shit, this is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me.”

That might have been the saddest thing he’d ever heard. Then again, his own life had been pathetic for so long it hardly registered. “I thought that was your night with the prostitute.”

“Don’t call the love of my life a prostitute. Damn. Where’s that notepad of yours? We need to plan this shit. Rehearse it.”

But Arty had other ideas. “It’s dinner time.”

Rat threw up his hands. “How could you be thinking of food at a time like this?”

But Bee was unmovable. “Three meals a day. That’s what the doctor said.”