Page 140 of Bred
“Holy shit, it is you!” Tommy exclaims happily, slapping his hand in mine before tugging me in for a quick hug. “Look at you, all buff and shit.”
Before I did time, Tommy and I had the same build. We were both over six foot and athletic. While Tommy didn’t slack off in the time I’ve been away, it doesn’t match the twenty pounds of muscle I put on in yard over the years.
I laugh. “Yeah, well, I had a lot of time to work out.”
Tommy’s face sobers. “I’m sorry,man. I heard. If I would have known…” he trails off, his face pinched in guilt.
I shake my head. “Not your fault.”
“But I—”
“Not your fault,” I repeat firmly, leveling him with a look. “You didn’t make me take the job, Tommy. If anything, you warned me about it. You always knew when something felt off, and I didn’t listen to you or my gut. If anyone is to blame for this shit, it’s me.”
He doesn’t look convinced, but he lets it go for the time being. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but… what are you doing here?”
“Actually, I was hoping you’d hook me up with a job.”
His brows raise in surprise. “You looking to get back in?”
“Not that kind,” I clarify, shaking my head. “Those days are done.” I pause. “I wouldn’t be opposed to the occasional race, though,” I add, smirking.
He meets my gaze, but my peripherals register him fidgeting with the rag. “Straight and narrow now, huh?”
“I gotta, for my girl. I’m not about to blow both of my second chances.”
“Your girl?” He hikes his eyebrows.
I nod. “You’ve met her. A long time ago.”
“You’re still with that high school chick?”
I crack a smile. “Well, she’s not a high school chick anymore, but yeah. It’s complicated.”
“Relationships usually are, bro.” Tommy tosses the rag on the workbench as I follow him to the office. He pulls out two beers from the miniature fridge in the corner and tosses one to me before cracking his open.
“I fucked up,” I admit. “The night of the job, it was her prom. I was supposed to take her, but for obvious reasons, I never made it. Instead of telling her why and letting her wait for me, I told West to cut her loose. Told him to say whatever he had to. Apparently, he took that directive and ran with it.”
Tommy lets out a low whistle.
“Yeah,” I chuckle darkly, downing the beer. “But that’s why I need a job. Trying to get my life together and make things right. I want to marry her.”
The beer that Tommy just took a sip of goes flying everywhere as he chokes.
“Marry her!?” he coughs. “You just got out!”
I might have just gotten my freedom back, but freedom itself isn’t what I spent all those lonely nights dreaming about.
It was her.
It was always her.
While other guys had smuggled in photos of naked women ripped out of magazines or printed off the internet pinned up on the walls in their cells, all I had was a single picture: Brinley the night we first met, standing outside the haunted house we went through, licking her strawberry ice cream cone and giving me a cute little look.
My love for Brinley is all-consuming. She made me fucking crazy from the get-go, and even when I tried to let her go because I thought it’s what was best for her, I couldn’t.
I thought about her constantly when I was locked up. Wondering what her life was like on the outside, if she ever thought about me. Wondering if she would’ve been there to visit me if I’d let her be and knowing she would have been.
Sometimes I think if she really knew how tightly I clung to her through all that, how fucking obsessed I was with her, it would scare her.
