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“Yeah, take it outside, boys,” McGilley adds.
Fear is something I haven’t possessed in a long time. So after finishing my beer, I slide off the barstool and head for the door. The bell above the door rings as I walk out. Moving down the sidewalk, I hear the shuffle of feet behind me and move to the corner before turning around. A calm I’ve come to expect washes through me. I’ve wondered many times if I’ve become desensitized to violence, almost looking forward to the release. My hands fist and then I flex my fingers.
I have to remind myself where I am. Causing trouble in this town means trouble for my mom, and that’s the last thing I want. Billy comes toward me. “Walk away, Jason.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s drunk.”
Cutler comes stumbling toward me with his fists raised. What the hell? I stare at him, crossing my arms over my chest. “You’re fucking sad, you know that?”
“Get him outta here, Langston,” McGilley yells down the way.
Billy wrangles Cutler backward as he yells, “Fuck off, Billy. This is a long time coming. I’m going to kick your ass, Koster, and set the record straight once and for all.” He charges me. “I own this town. I own Delilah.”
I don’t lose my temper easily, but he manages to push just the right button. “Fuck you.”
He’s just about to hit me, but when he’s within arm’s reach, I take him by the throat and slam him to the ground. His face turns red, the veins in his neck begin to bulge, and his pulse pounds under my fingers. I could end him right here. I could look into his eyes and watch his life leave them.
This asshole doesn’t deserve death. If this piece of shit doesn’t get out of my sight, he’s going to find it, though. I lean down so he hears me clearly, and say, “The more you fight, the more your throat will close on you. Relax if you want to live.”
Pushing off him, I back away and tell Billy, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Cutler is left gasping for air while Billy stands there in shock. My buzz is gone, and I go around to the side of the bar to get on my bike.
I take the long way home.
Cutler’s not the guy I knew growing up. Something’s changed him over the years. Jealousy that grew into anger and then expanded into hate. Hitting women. He’s become his father, who he regularly saw hit his mother.
Some fucking example he was.
Everyone knew what happened behind closed doors, yet his mom stayed. My mother was the only one who reached out—repeatedly—to his. Eventually, that relationship ended when his father decided he didn’t care for people knowing his business. No wonder Cole’s so fucked up.
I need the dark of the night to relieve the aggression I found too easily tonight. The cool night air clears my head. With clarity, I see through the fog that’s been crowding my head. I turn around and head for the Noelle farm.
It doesn’t take but a few minutes to get there, but I stop at the entrance and cut the engine. The lights are out except one in that upstairs bedroom. If I had her number, I’d text her to see if she’s awake or wants to talk. Maybe she’d come outside and say hi again, even if only for a second.
The light is switched off, and a little hope goes with it. I start my bike and head home. I was stupid for thinking I could invade her night. I’ll see her again. I know that much. Doesn’t have to be a big deal, just to talk, to settle the wild thundering of my heart. To put the issues between us to bed. We’re not those same kids in love. We’re adults with problems to match.
I sneak inside, locking up behind me. My mom’s bedroom door cracks open, and she says, “You okay, Jase?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Go back to bed.”
“Will you come to church with me in the morning?”
Leaning against the doorframe to my room, I say, “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mom. Jesus and I aren’t on good terms these days.”
“That’s exactly why you should come with me.”
She’s tired, and I’m not looking to argue. “I’ll go. Now get some rest.”
With a smile, she says, “Good night. Love you.”
“Love you. Good night.”
We catch the only light in town, naturally. I come to a stop at the red and tug at my tie, which is feeling too tight. I haven’t worn a tie in a long time. My mom is talking about what she calls the gossip girls and how they’re going to lose their minds when I walk into church.
But I’m looking around at this tired town, the streets nearly empty on an early Sunday morning. Glancing into the rearview mirror, I watch as a familiar white pickup pulls up behind me. I’m pretty sure she recognizes my mom’s car by how she’s looking everywhere other than at me staring back at her.
