Page 26 of In It for the Long Ride

“You don’t know that.” I reminded him.

“Aunt Daisy, I know you love me and you struggle to see and accept certain things, but I’m a criminal. Hear me when I tell you, if I took a woman… kidnapped her and did unspeakable things to her. Tortured her… I’m not going to release her so she can point a finger at me across a courtroom and testify.”

I had to give him credit for being able to look me in the eye and say it, but it didn’t disgust me any less.

“If you ever get in the business of abusing women, you won't be my nephew anymore. Hear me,” I snapped.

“That ain’t my bag,” he assured me.

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t Chef’s either,” I returned, a little colder than I meant to.

“Wow,” Carl gave me a squeeze. “Wow, let’s take it easy. I know how you feel about Chef, but that’s still his dad, Daisy. The man ain’t here to defend himself no more either.”

“I heard a noise,” Blaze announced, sticking his head out the storm door.

“That was just ol’ Mak shootin’ at a squirrel.” Carl covered, without even contemplating an answer.

“I want to shoot a squirrel!” Blaze squealed, and excitedly ran to Eric.

Eric hefted him in the air and pulled a pistol from his waistband.

“Let’s do it.” He grinned.

“Eric,” I blurted out, but Carl wrapped me in his arms and urged me into the house.

“Hush now,” he encouraged.

“No. That's a gun, Carl. A real gun.” I squirmed.

“Of course, it is. You can’t teach a boy to hunt with a slingshot.” Carl laughed.

I needed a moment. Just a moment to think and breathe. I hated a fast life. I hated biker shit, and yet my whole life had been wrapped up in it.

Carl gripped my shoulder and ran his hand down the length of my arm until his fingers locked with mine. I stared down at our conjoined hands, but he didn’t give me time to object.

“Come on,” he grunted, and tugged me toward the living room.

He set me on the sofa and moved to the kitchen. When he returned, he was holding two bottles of water and those damn envelopes.

I tried to get up, but he pressed me back down.

“Stop, we’re going to read them. You and me.” He smiled.

My heart dropped to my stomach, and I shook my head.

“No, I…”

“Daisy, I could tell this meant something to you,” he gently persisted. “I want you to know why I didn’t open them.”

Vulnerability was making me jittery, and I twisted the rings on my finger and stared at the letters.

“It doesn’t matter why,” I whispered.

“I was a coward.” His words shocked me into looking up.

He was no such thing.

“I was terrified of losing you. Every time a letter came, I was scared it would be the last. That it would be the one that said you were moving on, or that you already had. That was my fear in the war… As a prisoner…” He cocked his head. “I didn’t just give up on you, I gave up on the world. I gave up on life. I accepted there was no end. When I came back…”

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