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Elle lifted her chin in Linda’s familiar gesture. “Just a minute ago.”
“Hmm.” He raised an eyebrow at Cyril, who began placing bottles of motor oil on the shelf with an air of nervous inattention.
“I wanted to say goodbye. Mom and I are going to Gramma and Gramps’ cabin for the long weekend. She’s waiting outside.” She jerked a thumb toward the street. Through the glass, Linda was visible sitting at the wheel of her car. He couldn’t read her expression and wondered if the fact she hadn’t come in was a good or bad sign. “On Tuesday, we’re driving to Vancouver. We’ll be there for a week.” She slid a glance toward Cyril, her expression full of wistful longing.
Apprehension shuddered through Cash like a ride on a washboard road. He wasn’t the only one she’d come to say goodbye to. Maybe wasn’t even the most important one. Ignoring that revelation for the moment, he nodded. “Have a good time.”
“We will. Mom’s got friends down there we visit every summer and it’s always fun. But I’m hoping we can check out some college campuses. I don’t graduate for a couple of years, but it’s never too early to start looking, right?”
Loss swept over him. He barely knew his daughter and she was already moving away. “What about UNBC?” The local university had a stellar reputation.
“Oh, I still might. But I want to see what else is out there.”
God, she sounded so grown up. He had missed so much of her life. Regret gnawed at him. It was his own fault, of course. He should have fought harder to get to know her, tried sooner to convince Linda he’d reformed, that he wasn’t the danger they both knew he was.
No. Not was. Had been. He wasn’t that man anymore. Penta believed in him. He needed to start believing in himself.
“That’s smart.” He harrumphed, trying to clear his throat of the swirling emotions, but his voice still came out gruff and gravelly. “Come see me when you get back. Tell me all about it.”
He wanted to hug her, but it was a liberty he hadn’t taken since the disastrous birthday party. Maybe she saw his yearning, as she stepped forward and squeezed him tight. “I will. See you later.”
With another quick look at the silent Cyril, she left the shop, climbed in beside Linda, and was gone.
Drawing in a calming breath, Cash turned to the youth. “All right. What’s going on with you and Elle?”
One shoulder hunched up under his ear. “Nothing.”
“She has a boyfriend.”
“Not anymore. He broke it off. After—” He slid an uneasy glance over his shoulder.
“After I tossed him on his ass.” One more sin to lay at his feet. It was a wonder Elle was speaking to him.
“Yeah. Elle says he was a jerk, anyway.”
If that was the case, why was she going out with him in the first place? He decided not to go there. “So. You and Elle?”
“We talk. It’s nothing.” The boy fidgeted with the bottles he’d placed on the shelf, lining them up with finicky precision. “Can I ask you something?”
Cash’s heart tumbled to the pit of his stomach. He didn’t think Cyril’s question had anything to do with motorcycle oil. “What?”
“Elle told me you went to jail. She says you beat up a guy, almost killed him.”
The air went sticky, trapping Cash like a fly in a puddle of fuel. He’d hoped volunteering at the youth-at-risk centre and being forced to discuss this exact subject would make it easier. It hadn’t. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be comfortable talking about why he went to prison. But he’d come to know Cyril pretty well over the last few weeks, and the kid only spoke up when it was important. He hissed a breath in between his teeth. “What’s your question?”
Cyril moved a container a millimetre to the right. “Why’d you do it? Beat him up?”
The kid couldn’t look him in the eye, but Cash didn’t think he was scared. He had the oddest feeling Cyril was looking for...permission? “What’s going on? Are you in trouble?”
“Nah. Well, maybe.” He pressed his fingertips on the edge of the metal shelves, like he was doing standing pushups. “The guys who were with me...you know. That night? They got a grudge against this other guy. Want me to come along, teach him a lesson.”
Ice shards filled his lungs. “You still hanging with those idiots?”
“I tried to stay away. But we had a lot of classes together at school. Besides”—his tone pleaded for understanding—“they’re my friends.”
He’d had “friends” like that too. Friends who had not had his best interests at heart.
Usually, he pushed memories of that night away, refused to let them get a grip. In this moment, he let them come. Felt again the vicious joy of battle, the icy calm of rage.
