Witnesses?
The guys on the banks of the river that night. Reeves’s crew.
Realization dawns. They work for Farrow now.
“You’re blameless in the death of David Miller,” he says. “My office feels that your hesitance to come forward was…understandable given the threat from inside our law enforcement.”
He keeps his voice low, but there’s something else in his tone.
He’s guarded, like he’s not sure how to handle me.
I must seem like a stranger to him now.
It takes a moment, but I clear my throat. “If you don’t prosecute,” I point out, “the town will see it as favoritism.”
“I agree.” He sighs. “If you’re amenable to community service, then it’s settled. You’re free to go.”
Pulling keys out of his pocket, he unlocks the cell, and we both open the door.
Standing in front of him, I wait for some signal. I don’t want to just walk out, because right now, we don’t feel okay.
His mouth opens, closes, then opens again. “I have never not been proud of you.” He lifts his eyes. “Between Jared, Jax, and me, we’ve done worse and more.”
Maybe. It didn’t feel the same, though.
“I lost Hunter for a while,” he tells me, “and then you…”
I had no idea he’d had trouble with the twins.
And with me abandoning him, he must’ve thought he was doing something wrong.
He almost whispers, “I’m sorry that you didn’t feel like you could fall.”
I shake my head. “It was nothing you did.”
He hugs me, and I feel my chest about to burst.
“Do you understand now?” He pulls back, looking at me. “The only thing that doesn’t make you a man is not gettingback up.”
“I know that now.”
“When I was sixteen, you were my little brother,” he muses. “I wanted us both to forget our problems and only have fun, like The Lost Boys. But we became family, and I was prepared for it all because Fallon and I love you.”
I want to tell him I love him, too, but my throat swells, and I can’t talk.
“Don’t ever do that again, okay?” he teases.
I chuckle. “Never again,” I breathe out.
We start for the door, and I didn’t realize how much I had weighing on my shoulders. Drew is gone. Green Street is Farrow’s. Quinn is mine, and her brothers know.
I’m home.
I take the door, holding it open. “So does this community service afford time for me to get a job?”
I have money, but I can’t ask her father to trust me if I don’t have a steady paycheck.
But Madoc’s reply comes quickly. “Nope. Sorry,” he says. “The community service will be extensive, I’m afraid.” He leads the way out into the police station. “Weston needs a lot of help. Repairs and restoration, infrastructure re-established, fundraising, and they need to hire at least one cop, I think.”
