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"I don't think they're too excited I'm here."
"No, we are not excited," I say, pushing the door open further and walking into the room. I'm drawn directly to Janey and press a kiss on the top of her head before sitting on the dining chair beside her. "We are watching and waiting."
"Waiting for what?" Janey asks.
I turn, studying John as he stands immobile next to the table. He looks like he can't decide if he wants to fight or run. "Waiting for you to do something to hurt Colton or anyone else. Or, for you to become part of the family."
"I don't plan on hurting anyone," he says, voice flat.
"Of course, you don't," Janey says softly.
"It doesn't matter what you plan, only what you actually do."
Most of my brothers are full of motion. John isn't. I find his stillness odd, but comforting.
”I didn't want to come here, you know,” he says, a half scowl on his face. “Colton just wouldn't let up about it. I was happy where I was." Happy in prison? Nothing about that makes sense to me.
Janey's smile is sad. "Or maybe you felt like you had a purpose in prison. And like you knew exactly what to expect. Getting out means creating a new life for yourself and having to figure out the rules here."
“Rules? What do you mean? We don't have rules," I say. There are lots of rules, but families don’t have them. Well, don’t fart in the car. That’s a big rule. One my brothers break all the time.
She pats my hand, snapping my attention back to the room. "Sure you do. As a society, we all live within a set of rules, but you also have rules in your family. Those take time to navigate."
"Society rules. Like, don't kill people," I say, staring at John's nose. Or don't take your clothes off in class. I broke that one a couple of times.
He takes a deep breath and nods. "That's a big fucking rule. One I already broke." He rubs the back of his neck and drops his shoulders. "For a long time, someone else told me when to wake up, when to shower, when to eat and exercise, and where to work. The only decision I got to make was what books I checked out from the library. On the ride over here, Colton must have asked me twenty questions about what I wanted to do when we got home, and I had no answers. None. I couldn't imagine any of it."
Janey's working her magic. Making people open up to her without even trying. John's under her spell, and he fell without even knowing it.
"That's okay," she says soothingly. John shakes his head and groans.
"No, it's not. Colton looks like I punched him when I can't give him an answer." He's worried about how he makes Colt feel. Maybe that's a good sign. If he didn't care, there would be no leverage. He could do whatever he wanted.
"How about I talk to him?” Janey suggests. “He's excited. And having you home for Christmas is even more exciting. They're planning a big thing tomorrow. But that doesn't mean you have to be there. Or maybe, you just come for a little while in the morning."
He crosses his arms over his chest. "Listen, I get it. Nobody wants a murderer around."
"That is a label," I say, knocking my fist on the table, bringing his stare to me. "It is something you did. Not who you are. But until you show people who you actually are, the label is all people will know about you. I know a lot about labels. So you should come tomorrow, for a little while. I imagine you're in pain from all of your injuries, so it may be difficult to stay for long, but we need time to get to know you."
John scowls at me and rubs absently at the skin of his cheek near his stitches. "You've come to visit a few times with the other guys, but until yesterday, you didn't speak. I kinda thought you might be mute."
"Not mute. Just didn't have anything to say to you."
Janey coughs and puts a hand on my shoulder. I like her touching me a lot.
John chuckles. "Fair enough. You're really fucking honest, aren't you?"
"Is that a problem?"
"No, actually. I like it."
My phone pings, and I step away from the table, letting Janey talk quietly with John. But I don't take my eyes off of them. I swipe and pull up the group text.
Ransom: The caterers had a fire. We're not getting dinner tomorrow.
Declan: Shit. They Ok?
Ransom: Yeah. Just no food. Christmas is fucked.
