Taking a deep breath, Dawson began what I could tell was going to be a very long, detailed, and personal story. “Ginger’s father used to be part of the Valves.”

 

I sucked in a breath. Here, I’d thought he was one of the people they’d been extorting money from, or maybe a rival gang member. This was news and he glanced at me, at my reaction.

 

But I screwed up my determination to hear him out without judgment and nodded for him to continue. Starting again, he said, “His name was Virgil, and he was sort of like a preacher in the way he addressed the club and our business, always sounded like he was giving a sermon. So, we called him Dante, like the writer. It pissed him off, but he let it go. So, Dante had been seeing a chick for a while, and they had a kid together. Right around that time, one of our rivals claimed we’d gone into their territory, blamed Dante as our second in command.”

 

He closed his eyes, and I readied myself for something painful, based on the strain in his expression. When he opened his eyes, his voice was strong, harsh, and bitter. “They decided to teach Dante and the Valves a lesson. His girl – I don’t know her name, he didn’t really bring her around – had gone home from the hospital to get the nursery ready for when the baby came home the next day. And a group from the other gang broke in. They raped her, beat her, and killed her. They probably would have killed the baby, too, if she’d been there.”

 

“That’s awful,” I said, choking on the horror of the story.

 

He nodded, and his eyes registered the agony of retelling all of this like it was yesterday. “Dante was alone now, and he had an infant daughter. He started to back away from our business, and it raised questions until he finally said he wanted out. He swore himself to silence about the club, said he was moving out east to live with his mother where he would have help raising the baby. But on a vote, the Valves decided they wanted to keep an eye on him for a while. So, they insisted he stay local and pay his own monetary dues. It was about trust, they said, and he agreed, as long as he and his daughter could live their lives in peace.”

 

He rubbed his forehead, and I sipped at my tea, trying to calm my nerves. He continued in a strained voice, “A few months later, a couple of the guys said that the cops had been snooping around Dante’s place. We were keeping an eye on him, trying to make sure he wasn’t going to turn on us to gain his freedom. By this point, I’d taken his place as Buster’s second, and I was sent to take care of the problem. I told Buster I didn’t think there was a problem, and he told me that was fine. But if I found any evidence that he’d spoken to the cops, I had to put him down.

 

“It made me nervous. I hadn’t killed anyone, and I certainly didn’t want to kill a man I had always respected. I was used to putting pressure on people, leaning on them and threatening them to get money. I made the mistake of taking a couple of guys with me, in case things got rough. So, we got to Dante’s house, and I started asking him questions. He denied any involvement with the police, said he’d turned them away every time they’d tried to question him. I believed him, but the other two guys didn’t. They started tearing his house apart, looking for listening devices and I don’t even know what else. It woke the baby up, and Dante went to grab her.”

 

He sniffled, and I could feel the ache in his chest already mirrored in my own. “One of the guys shouted that Dante had a gun, and I pulled mine. I swear, when he lifted his arm, I thought he was leveling a pistol at me, and I aimed and shot, got him right through the head. He fell, and I ran to grab the baby. When I looked down at his body, I saw what was in his hand. It was just the baby’s teddy bear.”

 

My heart lurched, and I couldn’t breathe. I knew there were tears on my cheeks, but I couldn’t stop them. It was all too much, especially as I watched Dawson try to control his own emotions. “The other guys freaked out,” he said in an unsteady voice. “They started arguing, drew guns. One of them shot the other, and when he realized what he’d done, he shot himself. I just…stood there with an infant screaming in my arms, surrounded by blood and dead men.” He pushed his fingers into his eyes, like he thought he might be able to push the image away if he blinded himself. We both knew it wouldn’t work; the image was ingrained in his mind, not his eyes.

 

I had such a tight hold on my teacup I thought I might shatter it, so I set it down and drew my cardigan tighter around me. I didn’t say anything. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to comfort him but because I didn’t know how. It was a nightmare that, even though I hadn’t been present, I knew would haunt me. I couldn’t imagine what it had done to Dawson.

 

He cleared his throat, trying to regain composure. “I called Buster when I remembered how to dial, and I don’t know what I said. I just remember screaming into the phone. He brought some cleanup guys, and I don’t even know how they took care of things. When they showed up, I went to the nursery with the baby girl, and this utter calm came over me as I sat and rocked her back to sleep. With everything going on in the other room and how loud everyone was, it was like being in a bubble. I laid her in the crib and started gathering diapers and clothes and everything she would need.”

 

His anger replaced the regret on his face. “I packed up every bag I could find, and when Buster tried to stop me from taking it all, I nearly clocked him. It was my fault she didn’t have a father, but it was his fault we’d gone after Dante in the first place. I told him I didn’t care if he wanted to shoot me right then and there, as long as he made sure the baby was taken care of, but I refused to kill anyone else, ever again. He got out of my way, and I took the sedan Dante had traded his bike for and left with the baby.

 

“It took a few weeks, but Buster had some contacts, and we got all the paperwork drawn up for the adoption process. And Ginger was mine. It didn’t take nearly as long for the no-kill rule to get instated.” He met my gaze with fiery intent and said vehemently, “I will never let anything happen to Ginger, Mari, and I need to know that I trust you to be just as cautious and determined.”

 

I would have taken a bullet for her, and I told him as much. “I will stand between her and anyone who threatens her in any way, Dawson. She’s like my own daughter. You know that.”

 

“I do.” He touched the folder now, pushing it and the pen toward me. “But I want more than that.” I frowned, confused, and he pointed to the folder. “I want to make sure no one can take her from you, and no one but you can make the decisions that need to be made for her while I’m gone.”

 

My fingers trembled as I reached for the folder, and when I opened it, I stared at the official, legal documents inside. “Dawson…”

 

“It’s not what you think,” he stopped me. “I could have given up my rights as a parent, and I thought about it. But I chose to give you custodianship instead. It gives you the same control without negating me from her life. When I get out of prison, we can file more paperwork that transfers the responsibility back to me. Or we can share it.” He said the last with a hopeful tone, but I didn’t know what to think.

 

“This is a lot to take in, Dawson. I know we talked about this, and I told you I was calling CPS to get custody, but I’m not going to do that to the two of you. I can’t truly take her from you.”

 

“You’re not. Like I said, we can make arrangements when I’m finished with all of this.”

 

I swallowed, the ominous cloud of his departure making me feel sick again. “How long are you going away? I don’t know that any of this is actually necessary, if it’s as short a time as you say.”

 

But he shook his head. “I would want this if it was just a month or two, Mari. I can’t risk losing her forever, and that is something you can help me with. It’s just a signature, and there’s no other difference in our original arrangement.”

 

The tears came fresh and hot, and I asked in a whisper, “How long?”

 

He leaned back and folded his hands in front of him on the table. His grim expression did nothing to help ease my mind. “The DA offered five years, three with good behavior. Plead guilty to second degree manslaughter, and all the other charges would be dropped, if I gave them everything I knew.”

 

“Five years?” I choked. We’d been talking about a year, maybe two. I didn’t need a calculator to tell me that Ginger would be graduating elementary school by the time he was free. “That’s forever, Dawson!”

 

“Not really,” he said with a rueful grin. “It’s gone by really damn fast with Ginger.” His smile faded. “I’m waiting to hear back from the DA’s office, though. I explained the situation, told them about having adopted Ginger and having demanded that no one else be killed. And I asked them to bring it down to three. Wait!” he said quickly before I could tell him that was almost as bad. “I know it sounds like a long time. But with three years, I can easily be out in eighteen months on good behavior. Even with five years, I could be out in maybe two years, tops. I know how to keep my head down and not make any noise. I’ll be a model citizen.”

 

Now, he came around the table and knelt in front of me, taking both my hands in his. I didn’t fight him. My stomach was churning again, and I felt weaker than before, now that even more weight had been added to the load I was carrying. But the warmth of his hands on mine sparked a need in me that I’d been trying to deny. I had been so concerned with how Ginger would handle losing her father that I hadn’t thought about how I was going to handle not having him around. This was the sort of upheaval that destroyed people.

 

“Mari, baby, please sign the papers. I need to go into this knowing my daughter has a mother who loves her, and that the woman I love, whether she still accepts me or not, can still find it in her heart to help me get through it.” His eyes were pleading, and I couldn’t look away.

 

I’d spent months trying to get Dawson to tell me everything about his past, clue me in on why he was so frightened of leaving the Valves, and now that I had gotten what I wanted, I wished I’d never pried it from him. I just wanted to go back a month and start over. I wouldn’t be so naïve this time around, and I’d let Dawson handle his business.

 

But I couldn’t do any of that, and I took in a deep, shuddering breath. “I love Ginger, Dawson. And I still love you. I never wanted any of this to happen, but I will do everything I can to make it as easy as possible, for both of you.” That guilt of having forced him into this decision washed over me. Maybe he would have come to this conclusion on his own eventually anyway, and blaming myself was irrational, but that didn’t matter. I felt responsible, and there was only one thing I could do to help fix it.

 

I pulled away from his grasp, and I reached for the folder and the pen. I didn’t need to read anything. I knew what the pages stipulated. I found all the little flags and signed and dated on the lines with the Xs. Then, I closed the folder and set it back on the table with a sense of finality. Something in me had held onto the idea that, if I didn’t sign it, we’d stand still in time. Dawson wouldn’t go to prison, and we could work something else out.

 

Now that it was done, my heart sank, another heavy weight in an already struggling stomach. I turned to look at him, still kneeling in front of me, and I watched the tension ease from his face and drain from his body. I couldn’t believe how much relief seemed to come over him, just from me scrawling my name a few times.

 

“Thank you,” he whispered, and I heard the pieces of his broken heart clattering together as he shook and laid his head in my lap.

 

I needed to leave. I needed to get up and go home, and I was probably going to throw up again. But I didn’t have the strength or motivation to move. He felt good on me, and I laid a hand on his head, stroking his hair absently. I had the distinct feeling this would be the last time I could touch him with any kind of intimacy for a very long time.

 

And deep down, I was scared that, when he finally did get free again, he was going to hate me for causing him all this pain.