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20
I slept in fits and bursts. One would think I’m better after killing the motherfucker that almost killed my mother and was actually responsible for my father’s death. My girls are finishing breakfast with Sully and Monroe, talking about mindless shit. I decided I needed another shower. Mostly, I just needed the space. This wasn’t my first time killing someone, but that also doesn’t make it easy. I’m not a monster. I kill when I have to, not because I enjoy it.
Turning on the hot water, I stand beneath the sprayer with my arm against the wall, holding myself up. I can’t even imagine how long I’ve been in when I feel the cold draft, the telltale sign the Doc just opened the bathroom door. I’m not a stupid man, so thinking it would be anyone else would be stupid.
Toney wraps her arms around me. “Mmm, you got enough hot water for me too?”
I slide my hand down and tangle it with hers. “For you, always.”
My voice comes out a bit more gruff than intended because I’ve been crying. Even after growing up in the MC, I’ve always been more sensitive. I take my time to myself to process and let my feelings out. I try not to let rage rule me, especially now with Ciara. I need to be around for her.
“I’m here.” She squeezes my hand reassuringly. “You don’t need to say anything, but you do need to listen.” Her voice is soft, and right now, I need softness. “It doesn’t matter what any of you did. As far as I’m concerned, you were all at B-U-Tiful until this morning. Do you understand?”
What the hell is sh— “Why?” I swallow the lump in my throat. “You could get into a lot of trouble for lying. You don’t need my kind of trouble.”
“I realized something as I was straddling the woman that brought you into this world. I have spent the last twenty-two years running from the darkness. All of the messed-up shit that made up mine and Tobey’s childhood. I became a healer to balance the scales. To buy my way into Heaven, and yet everything I ran toward, still landed me covered in blood for the persons I lov—”
“Doc, don’t. If you are regret—” I can’t even get the words out before she manhandles me. Turning my whole body to kiss me.
“I have two rules in my life, Mister Westmoreland. Live without regret, and die by the five-minute rule.” She smiles. “What I’m trying to say is—and I say this without ego— perhaps my entire life was bringing me to this. To you. Maybe I didn't become a light for the entire world because I’m supposed to be the light in yours.”
My ass hits the bench, and I bury my head in her chest as the tears fall because I refuse to let her see this weakness. I’m supposed to be the strong one. I’m the fucking man, Goddamnit.
She crawls into my lap, grabbing my face between her palms. “Saint, don’t hide from me.” Her thumbs wipe at my tears that even the water can’t hide. “You, Monroe, Crux, and Drysten helped to transport your mother to my clinic after the shooting. I cared for her because she didn’t have any insurance, and the nearest emergency room was in Santa Ana. She wouldn’t have survived the trip. She is stable enough to move. I took care of as much as I could without further tests, so we will have to get her out of here and to my clinic today. Tomorrow I will call Santa Ana Regional and have her transported. I will also report the GSW, as not doing so will risk my license. Not to mention look very suspicious on our end. Am I to understand that the weapon in question will never be recovered, nor was it properly traceable?”
“We’re under lockdown. Everyone here depends on me. I can’t just up and leave. I’m such a fuckup. I’m sorry, Doc. Sorry for being so damned determined I had to have you as mine. I brought you into this mess. It's all my fault.”
Her fingers drum against my shoulders, and her eyes dart back and forth like a computer analyzing data. “You have a few choices. In our current situation, one choice is to do as I say. In this scenario, your people are safe, and your mother lives. You can also choose to open the compound so that I can get transport in here to get her out. This, however, leaves you exposed and open to possible scrutiny and investigation.” She scrunches her nose to show her disdain for that option. “Your other choice is to do nothing, in which case you become an orphan.”
“For fuck’s sake Doc. Do you enjoy breaking the broken man to the point of no fucking return?”
“Have you ever heard of Kintsugi?”
I shake my head no.
“Well, it’s a Japanese art of repairing broken things. In Japanese culture, broken plates, pottery, and all other manner of things are not just tossed away. We believe in embracing imperfections and flaws. By using gold to fill in the cracks, even something broken can still be beautiful. You, my handsome man, are my Kintsugi. You are not broken, you are a masterpiece in the making, or I’m not living up to the Fuzon name.”
“Shut up and kiss me, Doc, before we’re interrupted.”
