Page 44 of Tear Me to Pieces
That only leaves me with one goal left. Probably the most important one of all.
I don’t dig into it too much though, because as soon as we step in my house, Simon starts explaining what he couldn’t with Lydia around.
“Back when Christian, Tate, and I were younger, we did some really bad shit.” He bluntly lays out the truth without trying to hide from it. “All of us did. Cody. Levi. Shawn. Damien and Niko and Evan. Everyone was a part of what we were into.” He goes to the fridge and starts pulling out items, lining them down the counter. “For the most part, we’ve stopped. There’ve been a few hiccups here and there, but all in all, we’re staying on the right side of the law.”
“Hiccups?” I step to the island, resting my hands on the counter as I watch his movements, managing to follow the conversation even though my brain is somewhere else. “What kind of hiccups?”
“Christian killed someone we used to deal with because the guy threatened Lydia.” Simon’s eyes lift to me. “Our extractions occasionally require more force than yours did, so sometimes we still dabble in assault and breaking and entering.”
“I figured out the breaking and entering part when Butch came into my house last night.” I tap one finger against the counter, taking in the competent way Simon puts together our breakfast. “What does all that have to do with why everyone is pissed at Butch?”
After cracking a few eggs into a bowl, Simon begins whipping them up. “Butch was the last one to join our ranks. By then, we were pretty much at our worst, and he jumped in with both feet.Took off running like he’d been doing that kind of shit forever.” Simon frowns down at the eggs. “But when we stopped, everyone assumed he would stop too.”
“But he didn’t stop.” It’s a statement, not a question. Because since he broke into my house last night, Butch obviously didn’t stop.
“That’s part of what we’re pissed about.” Simon pours the eggs into a nonstick pan. “No one knows what the fuck Butch has been doing. When we got on the straight and narrow, he became a ghost. We don’t know where he lives. What he’s doing. Who he’s associating with. It’s like he was fucking done with us.”
I tip my head, a little confused. “But I’ve met Butch, so he was still around sometimes.” Not a lot, granted, but he didn’t go totally AWOL.
“He would show up every now and then, but never for long, and then he would disappear.” Simon pivots from the stove to drop a few pieces of bread into the toaster. “We asked around, trying to figure out if he was okay, but nobody seemed to know shit about him.”
I circle the island, collecting the jar of strawberry jelly and butter Simon stocked in my fridge. “You mean no one else knew where he was either?”
Simon shakes his head. “No. I mean no one had ever fucking heard of him.” There’s a sharp edge to his tone. Like Butch’s unknownness is the smoking gun of guilt.
But I’m not so sure.
“Nobody knows who I am.” I twist the lid off the jelly. “I was completely unknown by anyone outside of my immediate family for my whole life.”
“That’s different. Peopleshould haveknown who Butch was.” Simon stirs the eggs. “Just one person would have been enough, but the only way people had heard of him was his affiliation with us. It was like his existence stopped outside of our circle.”
I pinch my lower lip between my teeth, nibbling on it as I pull the toasted bread free and slather on a layer of butter. “So what do you think that means?”
I’ve learned a lot in the past year, but there’s still so much I don’t know or understand about this world. I’m clearly missing the knowledge required to understand why Christian, Simon, and everyone else in their family would be upset over what’s going on with Butch.
Well… outside of him breaking into my house, anyway. I understand why everyone’s upset about that. He didn’t break anything though, and he didn’t intend me any harm when he entered my property, so I’m somewhat indifferent about the whole breaking and entering thing.
Iwouldlike to know if it was him watching from the treeline when Simon and I?—
Stabbing a knife into the jiggly jelly, I scoop out a healthy dose, trying to calm the heat racing through my veins at the memory—memories—of what Simon and I have done. I’m so busy redirecting my brain, it startles me when he starts talking again, and I nearly fumble everything I’m holding.
“For a while, we thought he’d changed sides.” Simon shrugs, but the emotion—the betrayal—in his voice contrasts the gesture.“That he was happy living the way we had been and wanted to continue, so he found a new group to join.”
I turn to Simon, balancing a slice of toast on my palm as I smooth around the thick layer of processed strawberry spread I’ve added. “Bygroup, do you mean gang?” A whole lot of information clicks together and has my brows climbing up my forehead. “Were you and your brothers a gang?”
His eyes drift off to one side as he considers the question. “I’m sure some people would probably say yes.”
That’s cool, but I’m not super interested in some people. I’m interested in him. “What would you say?”
“I would say, probably.” His eyes come my way. “I’ve never claimed to be an upstanding citizen, My. I’ve done a lot of bad shit in my life.”
I don’t like the way he’s talking about himself. “But you’ve done a lot of good shit, too.”
He saved me, and countless other women. Pulled us from places where we were in danger. Being abused and manipulated. Often by men whodidclaim to be upstanding citizens.
“I’ve donesomegood shit.” Simon lifts the pan off the burner and slides half the eggs onto each of the plates he laid out. “But nowhere near enough to undo all the bad I’ve put into the universe.”
I try to imagine the man taking such good care of me doing bad things.
