A “beautiful gesture.” Was it? Or was Saint just as fucked up in the head as Garrett was? He didn’t know, but if this was how it was going to be, he wanted to try to look at it Paige’s way. He wanted to carry a “beautiful gesture” in his heart instead of the torment in his soul of knowing his friend died in a cage because of him. Did that make him selfish, again?

It felt good to sit there with his head on her chest, listening to her breathing and neither of them trying to fill the space with unwanted or unneeded words. Garrett never had that, someone to lean on, not since his mother died. He’d spent his life thinking he couldn’t find it and never would, because he didn’t deserve good people in his life that cared about him. Now Saint had him thinking. Maybe he was right and God wasn’t the one that had been punishing him all these years. Maybe he’d been punishing himself.

“Do you think people can change?” he said, suddenly.

“Sure,” Paige said, absently stroking her fingers through his hair. “I believe people can change if they want to badly enough and are willing to put in the work.”

“Do you think if someone does that, and turns their life around, that they can make up for some of the bad things they’ve done?”

“I don’t know,” she said, honestly. “Your past is your past and you can’t change that. But moving forward, it’s all up to you.”

“I don’t want to hate myself anymore,” he whispered.

“Oh, Garrett.” She bent her head down and kissed his, then she said, “I wish I had a list of things to rattle off, to prove to you that you’re a good person and you don’t deserve anyone’s hate, especially your own. But I don’t know you well enough for that yet. What I do know is this...the man who read a story to his little girl to chase away the nightmares, and the man who made such an impact on his friend’s life that Saint would be willing to sacrifice himself for you...and the man who put his own needs on hold to save my life...that guy can’t be the bad man that you seem to think he is.”

“There’s just so much you don’t know.”

“Then tell me,” she said. “At this point, what do you really have to fear?”

Garrett’s stomach clenched. His fear was that he’d talk her into believing he was a monster. But he couldn’t stop thinking about what Saint had said: the people in his life deserved to know the truth...and he wanted Paige in his life, badly.

“When I was twelve, my stepbrother was killed in front of me.”

“Oh my God.”

“I wasn’t nice to him. I twisted things up in my head after my mother died and turned my anger out on anyone who tried to get close to me. When he was killed, I thought it was because of me. I thought it was because I was so horrible to him, that was my punishment for it.”

“Oh, Garrett, you were just a little boy.”

“I guess, but to this day I can’t help but wonder if I’d been nicer to him...”

“You think that would have saved his life?”

“No...maybe. I mean, if he died because I ruined everything I touched, then yes.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“That’s what Saint said. Anyways, I guess I’ve let it fester all these years, and not just that. His mother, my stepmother, was devastated. Because she needed him so badly, my father spent very little time with me and then when I was fifteen, he died too. Again, I thought it was my punishment for being so angry with him for choosing her.”

She stroked his cheek, and he swallowed the lump in his throat and went on. “I moved out here because my mom’s dad was here, and I had to get away. I couldn’t stand the way my stepmother looked at me, even though she had a right to. When I was eighteen I was already hanging around with the Flames. My Pops was an old Army guy. He had a trunk full of medals and commendations. He was also religious, and he never tried to force that on me, but I knew he worried for my soul. I was going nowhere. One day he came to me and told me if I wanted to go to college, he’d cash in some of his retirement and pay for it. I didn’t want to go to college. Fitting in at school had always been hard for me. I didn’t know how to relate to people. I didn’t want to go to college, but I wanted him to be proud of me, so I mentioned the service. I never saw the old man’s eyes light up like that.

“I joined the Navy and became a SEAL. Most of what I did I couldn’t talk about, and again, it just festered inside of me. When I would come home in between missions, that anger began to get focused on my Pops. I blamed him for where I was...for me being a killer. I was horrible to him. Five years ago, he was diagnosed with dementia. Some days he’s fine and other days he doesn’t even know who I am. I hate myself for that too.”

“Oh, Garrett. Baby, none of that is your fault except for the way you treated them. I know you can’t make amends to your stepbrother, but have you thought about trying to make amends to the rest of them? Maybe that would ease your soul some?”

“It’s what I was trying to do...with the letters.”

“And that’s why Saint was so upset with you.”

“Yeah, he was pissed that I was going to do that and in turn I’d be dead and they couldn’t have their day in court, so to speak. I guess he’s right. It was just another cowardly move.”

“You know, all we know how to do is what we’re taught, Garrett. You never learned how to communicate your feelings because of everything that happened to you. I don’t think you’re a coward. I think you just need to learn how to talk about your feelings...at least a little bit.”

He pulled his head up and looked at her. “I shot a man in the back when I was fifteen.” He watched her face for a reaction. It was subtle, but he saw it there in her eyes. There was just no way she could feel anything for him if she knew all the facts, was there?

“Why?” she asked with a tremor in her voice.

“Does it matter?”

“Yeah, because I know you killed a man a week ago too, and I know he deserved it. So why, Garrett? Tell me.”

“Because he killed Beau. He killed my little brother and I thought if I killed him, some of the pain inside of me would go away. But I was fifteen and I had no idea how to even use that gun I stole out of the stuff my dad left behind when he died. I stole a car, drove by his house, and just fired. It’s just lucky I hit him and not someone else.”

“He didn’t die?”

“No. He’s paralyzed from the waist down. The thing is, though, I didn’t feel better after I shot him. I don’t feel better after I shoot any of them. I learned a long time ago how to just feel nothing at all...and that’s what’s so hard, turning it on and off. Most of the time it just stays off so when I do feel something, I panic and I don’t know what to do with it.”

“Is this helping?” she asked. “Is it making you feel any better to talk about it?”

“It’s scaring me,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because I keep waiting for you to say ‘that’s enough.’ That you don’t want to be anywhere near someone that could do the things I’ve done and then just detach himself from them and walk away.”

“Do I know the worst of it?” she asked. He nodded. “Then no more worries. Unless you want me to, I’m not going away.”

* * *

Garrett and Paige talked for over an hour before he finally told her there was something he needed to do. She made him promise he’d come back as soon as he could, and he actually left there feeling lighter inside than he had in years. Maybe there was something to this sharing stuff after all. But before he could fully commit to trying to have any kind of relationship with Paige, there were some things he had to take care of. It was getting late and most of it he’d have to handle in the morning. So he went to the one place that he knew would be up all night and started there.

“Hey, Claudia,” Garrett said to Monkey’s old lady, who was the first person he saw when he walked into the clubhouse. “Is Monk around?”

“Yeah, hon, him and Speedy are out in the shop looking at his bike. You okay?” Claudia was perceptive, and she knew how important Saint was to him. Everyone seemed to, since they were all walking on eggshells around him.

“I will be,” he said. He wasn’t sure that was true, but he at least had hope. He left the clubhouse and walked out back to where the shop was. A few of the guys were working on bikes and a few more were standing around, smoking a joint and shooting the shit. There was a hush when Garrett walked in. He looked at one of the guys and said, “Is Monk out here?”

“Yeah, Bear, he’s in back with Speedy.” Garrett nodded a thanks and headed toward the supply room in back. He found his president and VP looking through the parts on one of the shelves.

“Hey,” Garrett said. “I talked to Saint.”

The two older men looked at each other and Monkey said, “Yeah, he told us. Why’d it take you so long?”

“Just putting shit together in my head. Did he tell you why he’s doing this?”

The men looked at each other again and this time Speedy spoke. “We know he’s dying, if that’s what you mean.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” Garrett said. “He’s got a few months to live. How fucking horrible will it be to die in prison?”

“They won’t send him to prison,” Monkey said. “Look, Bear, I wish that Saint would’ve come to us before he made this decision that affects us all. But, as it turns out, I think it was a good decision. Those asshole rich people downtown wouldn’t have let this go until they had someone. Saint realized that, and he also realized that spending a few months behind bars wouldn’t be as bad as you spending your entire life there...and these assholes starting to look at old cases to pin on you.”

Garrett almost chuckled. Monkey was club first all the way and if the police looked at old cases and tied Garrett to them, the club would be pulled into it too. They were already getting bad PR because of Saint’s arrest, but it would tear them apart if the truth came out about how many people had been “eliminated” over the years...on Monkey’s orders and at the end of Garrett’s rifle. “Anyways, Darwin’s filing a medical something or other. He says Saint can plead guilty and then he can spend his last days in a hospital, just under guard.”

That was a little better than what Garrett had pictured, but not much. “So you want me to keep my mouth shut?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what we want you to do.”

“Okay...but I need something from you in return, Monk. You know I rarely ask for things, but this is non-negotiable.”

Monkey raised an eyebrow but instead of telling Garrett he was fucked in the head for thinking he owed him anything like Garrett thought he might, the older man said, “What is it you want, Bear?”

“As soon as Saint is transferred, I want help, getting him out of state.”

Speedy laughed. Monk looked serious as he said, “You know what you’re asking me? You want us to get involved in breaking a convicted murderer out of custody and then harboring him. Where would he go?” The last sentence told Garrett Monkey was willing to consider it.

“I’ll arrange all that. Just promise me you’ll okay the brothers to help me.”

Speedy was shaking his head. He was sure Monkey was going to say fuck no; Garrett could see it on his face. But he knew his president a little better than that, or at least he hoped he did. Speedy almost fell over when Monkey said, “They’ll help you, —hell, I’ll help you myself.”