Page 94 of Heart of the Sun

For a moment he was quiet, leaning toward an alley and peering down it before taking my arm and pulling me forward. “Abel’s girlfriend’s.”

Abel.

The young man who’d robbed a convenience store and bled to death in Tuck’s car, a crime that Tuck had taken partial responsibility for even though—to my mind—he shouldn’t have. I looked up at him, his jaw set, expression blank. “Were they…were they both in—”

“Yes,” he said, his voice choked.

“I’m so sorry. Tuck—”

“Come on. I know somewhere we can stay overnight. We’ll leave for your parents’ in the morning.”

My heart sank. I saw him shutting down, returning to the man he’d been. Not angry like I’d once thought. Not bitter.Helpless. Grief-stricken.All this carnage, all this death, and now the vision of what had to be the dead bodies of Abel’s girlfriend and young son had reminded him that he was still trying to make up for not doing what he believed he should have when presented the chance. For failing Abel, and in so doing, failing Abel’s girlfriend and son.

And the thing was? It’d just so happened that he’d found himself in a world ripe with chances to pay that unseen debt. They were everywhere. I’d seen the relief on his face when he’d given the man with the baby our condensed milk. And I’d felt relief too. I’d wanted to give it to him. But for Tuck, it wasn’t just an act of kindness, it was a small step toward the redemption he was still seeking.

Only I wondered when it would be enough, wondered how many lives he’d have to save to assuage the shame and guilt he couldn’t let go of.

What I was beginning to fear—deeply—was that I wasn’t enough to convince him to give it up.

I wasn’t even sure it was right that I try. Because the world needed heroes now and their motivations didn’t much matter.

“This way,” he said, leading me toward an obviously abandoned laundromat. Only, it clearly wasn’t abandoned recently. This place had been an empty shell for quite some time—a decade at least if I had to guess. I followed Tuck to the rear, and he looked around before opening the back door and pulling me inside. The large empty space was dim and mostly empty. Any equipment had been cleared long ago, the only remnant of what it’d once been a coin machine half hanging on the wall that said, “Detergent.”

“No one’s going to come in here,” he said, turning to our right where there was a smaller room that had likely once been a manager’s office. We entered the mostly empty space, a small window high up on the wall glowing with the final rays of sunset. There was a large metal shelf on one wall, and Tuck closed the door and then pushed the shelf in front of it.

“How long has this place been abandoned?”

“It closed down a year or so after I moved here. There was a for-sale sign up on the land for years, and I think it was purchased a couple of times, but it always fell through. I don’t know why.”

I put my pack down and then sat on the floor under the window, my back propped against the wall. I took out a can of beans and peeled the top back, tipping it and pouring them into my mouth before handing the can to Tuck. “Bon appetite,” I said, attempting to make him smile.

He did, sitting down next to me and taking the can. “Are you okay?” I asked.

He was quiet as he chewed but nodded when he handed the can back to me. “I will be.”

Will you, Tuck?

We took out a few crackers and we ate for a moment. As hungry as I was, the food brought no pleasure. I felt heavy with fear and sorrow. And I knew what these feelings meant. I remembered well the distant look on Tuck’s face.

“What happened to Abel’s girlfriend and their son wasn’t your fault. Neither was your uncle’s death. Evil men with guns are to blame for that.”

Maybe Tuck’s feelings for me weren’t as big as his need for atonement. Maybe he’d decide his place wasn’t with me and my parents. But even so, even if he chose to go out into the world and fight for others, I wanted him to find a way to let go of the guilt he carried, because it killed me to see him hurting and trying with all his might to find forgiveness from those who weren’t alive to extend it. An impossible task. And too painful for any one person to bear.

He sighed. “They had no one to protect them, Emily. I’m talking about Cherie and Abel Jr. If Abel hadn’t died that day, he’d have been there to protect them.”

“If, Tuck. If. That’s a losing game and you know it.Everyonemade choices that day, and the days preceding it. The what-if game isn’t going to bring anyone back. What if Abel had decided that staying home and taking care of his pregnant girlfriend was more important than committing a crime that might get him thrown in jail? Or killed? What if he’d decided to go out and get a job instead of robbing a store?”

“Stop, Em. He was desperate.”

“His desperation and his choices weren’t your fault. You didn’t owe him anything.”

“You’re being judgmental.”

“Sure, I am,” I said. “That’s what the what-if game is all about. You have to judge every choice made—fair or not, reasonable or not—if you’re going to play.”

He looked away and ran his hand through his hair.

“Aren’t you even a little bit mad at him, Tuck? Aren’t you angry that Abel put you in the position he did? Even despite being young and desperate.He asked you for a ride and didn’t tell you he was going to commit a crime. He set you up, Tuck, whether he thought about that or not.”

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