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“No, because it looks like I was roofied. Which makes a shit load of difference, kid, because I never did fuckin’ drugs. Even your mom admits that,” Celt explained. Whatever retort Jesse had been about to launch at Celt dropped from the boy's lips as he considered Celt’s words.
“Drugged?” Jesse asked.
“Possibly. Look, Jesse, I ain’t gonna sit here and bullshit you. Fact is, we’ll never know what the fuck happened that night. But it remains I did strike and punch Cheyenne, causing her to miscarry. Now I say that ain’t my rightful behaviour, and that would be the truth. Fuck, I had reason seven years ago to beat the shit out of a woman, and I refrained from hitting her, so for me to hit the booze and drugs? Nah, something is outta whack with it.
Knowin’ Chey as I do, Jesse, I know she didn’t act from spite or malice. Chey protected and hid you to save you from me. I understand that urge, but the problem is that you never needed protection from me. From Zeus, yeah, every fuckin’ innocent required protecting from him. But Hellfire took him down, and we took him out. That asshole is no longer a threat in anyone’s life. I want to build something with you, kid, it’s too late to be Dad, but we can at least try to be friends,” Celt offered. Everything inside him urged him to beg Jesse to give him this one chance. But Celt sensed Jesse desired to be in control, and begging would make the boy run.
“Ain’t making no decisions until Mom is back on her feet,” Jesse drawled thoughtfully.
“That, son, is all I’m asking.”
“Don’t you call me your son!” Jesse flared, and Celt sighed internally.
“Didn’t mean son as in my son. It’s a phrase we use around here,” Celt explained. Jesse’s eyes narrowed.
“Find another saying, ‘cause I don’t want you calling me son. You haven’t earned that right!”
“Yeah, okay, brat, you got a point. No calling you son, although junior asshole springs to mind,” Celt quipped, and Jesse looked insulted. “Hey, you keep acting it, I’m going to call it!”
“Yeah, well, it’s plain to see where I get my assholeness from,” Jesse snapped, and Celt laughed.
“Kid, you’re quick; I’ll give you that.”
“Okay?” Saint asked, poking his head through the door. Celt relaxed and allowed Jesse to answer.
“Yup, dickhead here was trying to explain a few things.” Celt rolled his eyes as Saint narrowed his.
“I’ll wash your mouth out, Jesse, no cussing until you’re eighteen. Your mom set that rule, and you’re going to abide by it, even if she is asleep!”
“Are you serious? That kid has lip like a drunken sailor!” Celt exclaimed as Saint turned to him.
“Most of us do when it concerns you, Celt,” Saint murmured, and Jesse sent Celt a triumphant look. “Don’t gloat, Jesse, I ain’t letting you cuss no matter how much dickwad deserves it!”
“Oh, but you can,” Jesse challenged.
“Earned that right when I became eighteen and a man, kiddo. And I ain’t forgotten the beating your mom handed to me when you called your first teacher a cock-sucking motherfucker.” Saint appeared grouchy as Jesse laughed. Sadness hit Celt as he realised these were the stories he had missed out on. This was what Chey had been trying to force him to understand, and he’d failed. Celt hadn’t looked at the future, refused to recognise what he’d lose. All he’d seen was Hellfire and Chance. And now faced with the results from his poor decision, Celt had to honestly wonder if he’d make the same choice again. His gaze crossed to Jesse, who was goofing with Saint. Nah, Celt didn’t have to ponder; he knew he would choose differently.
???
“Why can’t I feel my legs?” I begged, confused, staring at the doctor. He’d introduced himself as Doc Paul and told me to call him by his name.
“Do you remember what happened?” Paul asked as I cocked my head at him.
“There was an accident,” I replied.
“Yes, do you recall it?” I paused as I thoughtfully considered. No, I didn’t remember much. I recognised Nana and knew I had a son called Jesse, but everything else was blurry and confusing.
“No. Where’s Mick and Jesse? Was Jesse with me?” I demanded, scared.
“No, Jesse is safe, Cheyenne. Can you tell me what happened?” I stared at the doctor. Why was I in hospital?
“Huh?” I asked, confused. The doctor’s face changed, and I sensed Nana shift uneasily next to me. “Why can’t I feel my legs?”
“Cheyenne, you were in a car accident. Do you remember it?” The doctor inquired.
“No, what is your name? Where’s Mick and Jesse?” Had Jesse been involved?
“Cheyenne, do you know who I am?” the guy asked kindly.
