Page 114 of The Best Kind of Bad

Easy for him to say. It’s easy to have a clean conscience when you’re richer than God and haven’t ever gone without. High morals are a luxury.

He clicks his tongue. “Can’t you let that girl go? Can’t you leave them Novaks alone? You’ve leeched enough, don’t you think?”

“Leeched…”

He puts his truck into gear, but keeps his foot on the brake. “If that girl was smart, she’d cut you loose. And if you were a good man, you’d let her go.”

I’d ask him what he knows about being a good man, but it’s not like I know a damn thing about it, either.

You try and you try, but you can’t outrun your roots. They bind you. Trap you.

And no matter how hard you pull, those roots run deep. There’s no escape.

Jerry drives away.

I turn into the lane and park the truck.

Marnie and the dog stand by the back door.

Ed trots up to me. I lean down, petting his head, avoiding looking at Marnie.

Eventually, I peer up at her. She looks madder than hell. I stand, ready to face the music, even if my heart is shredded.

She pauses, just out of reach, frowning up at me. I’m trying to gather my words, to form them around some sort of apology, some kind of explanation.

She launches into me, wrapping me up in that signature bear hug of hers. So fierce and tight for such a little thing. She presses her cheeks against my chest. “Fucking Jerry Lind. That asshole.”

“Marnie…” My voice breaks, like waves against a rock. “I’m sorry…I should have told you.”

She hooks her hands around my neck and pulls me down, kissing me hard. It’s bruised lips and teeth. Frustration and loss and love. Deep, bottomless love.

She pulls back, staring up at me with those honey-colored eyes. “You can tell me now. If you want. And I’ll listen to every word, baby. But you don’t need to say you’re sorry. Don’t ever let them bring you to your knees. You’re too good for that.”

My eyes burn and my throat gets thick.

I won’t cry in front of her, but damned if I don’t want to.

75.

Marnie

Love and life and secrets go hand in hand.

You hold your hand of cards close to your chest. The trick is knowing how and when to show them.

Dusty told me his worst secret, and it didn’t change a thing.

If anything, my love runs deeper. I didn’t know how bad it was for him and Sienna. He’s not one to burden people with his problems.

Maybe if he was willing to ask for help, he wouldn’t have felt driven to those desperate lengths. I don’t care what anyone else thinks, there’s a bravery and an honor in the choices he made. He sacrificed himself, his name, his future, for his mother and sister. And I’m not going to punish him for that.

Still, clearing the air doesn’t always make it easier to breathe.

We were already in a funky place when I got the call from Glenna.

It will be my first funeral as a baker in Silver Bend.

And for a sixteen-year-old boy who played violin like an angel.

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