Four miles. I drum my fingers on the steering wheel of my old truck. Three miles. My foot nervously taps out a beat. The music playing on the radio is all I can focus on as I ignore the mile markers leading me back to Boone. The place that destroyed, and made, me.
The edge of town nears in my sight. I keep my focus down the two-lane road, ignoring all the familiar sights. A siren sounds, then red and blue lights flood my rearview mirror.
“Son of a bitch.” I ease the truck to the side of the road. So much for sneaking back into town unnoticed.
I slam the steering wheel with the palm of my hand. I have no clue how fast I was even going. I slump back in the seat, waiting on the officer. He takes his sweet time sauntering up to me. I study his movements in the side mirror, a habit I picked up in the military. I’m not active anymore, but there are just some things that will never change. I size him up from head to toe. His buttoned-up uniform shirt hugs tightly across his pot belly. There’s no way in hell this fool could outrun any criminal, not even a senior citizen. He’s out of shape as they come.
“I’m Officer Tomlinson.” He rests his hand on my door. “Do you have any idea how fast you were going?”
You’ve got to be shitting me. Cole Tomlinson, the puke that made my life a living hell from the moment I moved into town.
“No idea.” I shrug.
It’s then he also recognizes me. “Well, well, the golden boy turned hero has graced us with his presence.”
I don’t respond, clenching my fist over and over down by my leg. I’d give anything to lay this asshole out. I keep firm in my determination and self-control. I’ve been through worse these past few years; I can put up with this nobody who thrives in a small town only on his last name.
“You still dumb silent like years ago?” He leans into the window with his stained yellow teeth on display.
“I have no idea how fast I was going, Cole.” I lean right back into him. “Give me the damn ticket and go fetch yourself a doughnut, and let’s get on with our day.”
Cole chucks his head back, letting an evil chuckle escape him. I watch out for each of his moves, letting the plays of the game reel before me. I’d love more than anything to beat his smug ass to the ground. The game of football and the military have taught me better, and if I was man enough to admit it, the times Mom knocked me around did too.
“Here.” I reach over to the jockey box, snagging my registration and insurance, then pull my driver’s license out of my back pocket.
Cole steps back and clicks the tiny speaker on his chest. He plays out every single word. It’s not the lingo he’s supposed to use. Nope, he lets the entire town know I’m back. I can guarantee all those households that have radios in them are garnering smiles right now.
“Station, this is Officer Tomlinson. I have Max James here. He was going fifty-five in a thirty-five. It seems he’s still above the law. Writing a ticket for excessive speeding as a welcome home gift.” Then he saunters back to his patrol car.
I drop my head back and squeeze my eyes shut. Nothing like ripping off the Band-Aid. Cole takes his sweet-ass time. I ignore the traffic that slows down, staring like they have nothing else better to do.
“I’m writing you up for excessive speeding,” Cole rattles on with the rest of his shit speech.
I glance over at him and snag the ticket from him. Tamping down my anger, I decide on the least of several evils and crumble up the ticket in my palm and toss it to the passenger seat.
“Anything else, deputy?” I reach for the steering wheel.
Cole’s face turns a shade of red, his own temper flaring to life on the inside. I know I’m playing with fire and gasoline here. Cole may not be the sheriff in town, but I damn well know he will play dirty with the bit of power he does have.
He rests both of his hands on top of my door, his dirty fingernails resting on the inside. He rocks back and forth for long moments before talking. “You know Jessie and his do-good family may have wanted you in this town, but just know this, Max James.”
He sneers my last name with hate and disgust. It’s the one thing that nearly ignites my temper to a boiling point. It’s the greatest gift Jessie and Jules gave me. I continue to stare forward, not giving him a shred of respect. He deserves none.
“The town doesn’t want you here and never has wanted trash like you and your drunk of a whore mother.” He pats the top of the door and steps back. “Have a nice day and welcome home, Max.”
“Fuck you,” I mutter under my breath, no longer able to control shit.
Cole freezes and tilts his head. “What was that, soldier?”
He threw the goddamn bait, and I took it.
I shake my head and pull my ball cap down a bit lower. “Have a nice day, Deputy.”
With that, I start my truck and pull back onto the main road. I control my breathing and fall back into my self-disciplined ways. I know men like Cole aren’t shit in the real world. He lives safely in the cocoon of this small town where his power means something. He wouldn’t last one minute out there.
“Why do you let those motherfuckers have any control over you? They’re nothing.”
I smile, thinking about what Smith would always tell me when we’d share stories about our hometowns and pasts. I find myself driving without thinking.
Before I know it, I’m killing the engine of my truck in front of my childhood home. One of several, but it was the place she died. The shamble of a shack is barely standing, but the memories it holds are alive and well.
The cracked, barely there sidewalk is no longer visible, hidden by the thick weeds. As I walk, up to the front door, I rub my chest, feeling the burn of the pain this place brings back.
Nobody moved in after Mom took her life. It was tainted that day and wasn’t in any kind of living condition.
“How did my life come full circle?” I ask everyone and no one at the same time.
My phone dings in my pocket. I let it stay there, thinking about what in the hell I’m going to do. If I’m being honest, I haven’t been able to think about the possibility of having a kid. It’s not that I’m opposed to it. The problem is every time I go there, I grow so fucking angry at Ally. What in the hell was she thinking? If that boy is mine, there’s no way in hell there’s any excuse for what she did.
I pull my phone out and see a text from my dad.
Dad: You in town yet? Let us know.
I tap back a quick response, letting him know I’ll be home in a couple of hours. I need time to process all of this. Dad looked into the claim Kate dropped on me. He said it was damn well possible the little boy was mine. He found out that Ally moved back to the area about five months ago.
She’s not in Boone but the neighboring town of Morton about twenty miles away. Her parents have disowned her. The chatter around Boone was she ran off with a guy they didn’t approve of, a likely story everyone would believe.
I stand up and dust off my ass, walking around the house. Once at the back, I notice the door is wide open, hanging off its hinges. I glance inside, seeing the hallway that leads directly into the living room. The place my mom drank herself to death, screwed random men, and ordered me to go buy her more poison.
Shadows creep over every surface, pulling out memories of being beaten and starved. Yet in my own way I loved the woman who brought me into this world. And now there’s a little boy out there living the same exact life, from the little information that was given to me.
Something inside of my tortured and angry soul shifts as this realization dawns on me. Finn may or may not be mine. Does it really matter if he needs help? Beams of sunlight shoot through the shattered windows, lighting up the hellhole and place of torture. The rays of sunshine do their best to infuse something positive into the situation. And just like that, my question is answered.
I look back one more time before climbing into my truck and setting off. I find myself driving east to Morton, this time driving the speed limit with a clear and focused goal in my head.
I can handle the taunts and shittiness of the same assholes that live around here. I can do this because there’s a little boy suffering who needs me. Jessie saved me, and now it’s my turn, whether or not I’m bonded by blood. That fact never stopped Jessie or Jules from accepting me as their son. This is the something more in my life that I’ve craved for so damn long.
I kill the engine to my truck and walk the few blocks to the center brick elementary school building. Glancing down at my watch, I notice it’s only 2:30. I lean on a telephone pole across the road from the bus lane, studying the brightly colored playground equipment. I have no idea what time school gets out but know it’s soon when the canary yellow buses begin lining in front of the school.
“Shit.” I run my hands through my hair.
I don’t even know if kindergarten is in session. Hell, when I went to school, we only went half a day. Of course, I went to the morning session because it was the only time the school bus could pick me up, and there was no way in hell my mom would take or pick me up from school.
I study the front doors, feeling each second scrape by. It’s damn torture. Part of me craves to find Ally and give her a piece of my mind. I’m afraid I’d rattle the hell out of her right now.
The front doors of the school burst open. I find myself stepping closer yet remaining a safe distance in the background. Several other parents have pulled in and leaped out of their cars, making it easy to blend in.
A whirl of bright blonde hair followed by giggles and excited chatter fills the afternoon air. A woman with her hair piled up on her head pushes up her black-framed glasses on her nose then does some chant and clap. The little line of students behind her follow and cease all chatter.
I’m not close enough to hear what the woman tells the children. I’m not even sure if she’s a teacher dressed in jean capris and a baseball tee with the school logo on it. She sure in the hell doesn’t look like the teachers did when I was in school. I shake the thoughts from my head and watch her crouch down and high-five each student. Some dive in for a hug while others skip by with a simple wave.
“Holy shit.” I find myself taking a few steps closer when I see him.
I pinch my lips together to keep my emotions contained when I see a little boy with messy brown hair, rich chocolate eyes, and a sad smile on his face. His jeans are worn, and his tennis shoes are on their last thread. My heart constricts in my chest, and my palms go sweaty as I watch the teacher drop to her knee in front of him.
He was the last in line, I’m sure shoved to the back from the other eager students. He reaches up, wiping a stray tear from under his eyes. Kate. This has to be Kate who wraps him up in a full hug, whispering something into his ear. He nods and eventually lets go of her.
She reaches for a bag I never saw her carrying and tucks it in his backpack. An elderly woman who can barely walk makes her way over to them. Tears stream faster and hotter down Finn’s face as the woman ushers him away from Kate. I remain frozen, watching my greatest nightmare play out in front of me. There are no words to explain a damn thing I’m experiencing. It’s as if karma set her sights on me and won’t let go.
“Max?”
I peer up to see Kate walking toward me with her hands tucked in her pockets. I open my mouth, but no words come out. When she’s close enough, she extends a hand. It takes me a few moments to gather my wits and extend mine.
“Yeah,” I croak out, doing my best to keep emotion void from my voice.
“I’m Kate. It’s nice to meet you.” She tucks her hand back in her pocket. She nibbles on her bottom lip. “I’m glad you came.”
I reach back, squeezing my neck. “What do I do now?”
Kate toes her white Cons against the pavement, looking down. “I have no idea. This is my third year teaching and first year at this school. All I know is Finn needs help.”
I reach out and grab Kate’s hand and wait until she looks up at me. “Thank you.”
Tears brim her eyes. “I don’t even care if I lose my job. You know you hear about these stories in college but would never think they happen in real life, and the people here know it’s going on but don’t do a damn thing.”
I smirk. “Yeah, you’re preaching to the choir.”
She tilts her head in question. I ignore it.
“Where does Ally live?”
“Miss Kate.”
We both glance behind us to see a woman shading her eyes with her hand.
“You have a call on line one.”
“Okay, I’ll be right there.” Kate turns back to me and begins backing away. “Can you meet in like forty minutes over at the coffee shop on Third Avenue?”
I nod. “I’ll be there.”