“We’ll talk, I swear. Let’s get these guys fed and I got a rotisserie chicken for us and Beau and Sam.”
Coke nodded and got to work, just about as dogged and solid as they came. Dillon’s head finally cleared a little, the stress of worrying how Coke would receive him receding.
Once Coke brought in the kibbles, he fed all the dogs, finding Boudreaux’s cans in the cabinet above the sink.
Coke glanced at his phone. “Don’t bother waiting on the Cajun. Him and Sammy are staying in town tonight.”
“Ah. Yeah, I bet it’s tough for Sammy to sleep on a foldout. How is he doing, babe?” Dillon worried. Sam had been so damned still in the hospital. So sick.
“He cain’t talk worth shit, but he’s walking around, wearing a helmet deal all the time. He’ll make it. Beau’s taking care of him.”
“Good.” Dillon set the table after he washed it down, laying out plastic forks and paper plates. Mashed potatoes, bread, green beans. Comfort food because the rest of tonight was going to be hard.
“I’m sorry.” Coke’s words were so quiet.
“Sit with me?” He would dish up and they could just have at it. Not that Dillon intended to fight, but this had to suck for Coke. “I am, too.”
“Why?” Coke seemed honestly confused, genuinely, and for the first time Dillon began to think this wasn’t about him, not really. This wasn’t about Coke not trusting him or him snooping.
No, this was because Coke believed he didn’t deserve anything good in his life.
“Because I should have just asked about your past if I wanted to know. I found out you had a brother and that you’d changed your name, by the way. On the Internet. That was all.”
“That’s it? Nothing else?”
“I know you were in jail, but that’s not online. I found that out from other people.”
Coke nodded, staring at his hands. “Brenda. Danny helped me fix things.”
“He sounds like a good man.” Dillon had been jealous of Danny Scott once upon a time, but Jason’s dad had to have helped Coke during the worst time of his life. “Nate told me a little, too. That it was awful. I’m so sorry.” He put his hands over Coke’s.
“I am too.” Coke still wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I was in for three years. Maximum security violent youth offenders.”
“What for?” Dillon asked, trying to understand.
“Four counts of aggravated rape with a deadly weapon.”
Dillon blinked. Glanced down at their joined hands. Blinked some more. Then he shook his head and rose up over the table to grab Coke’s chin, forcing Coke to look him in the eye. “Well, I know you didn’t do that, so tell me what happened.”
“It was Anthony.” Coke stared into him, so serious. “It was him. He was… There’s something wrong, something deep wrong. He hurt them.”
Dillon was missing something. “Wait. How did you go to jail, then?”
“My folks said it was me. We’re the same—the same DNA, the same blood. They said Anthony couldn’t bear it, wasn’t strong enough. I was fourteen, fifteen when I went in. They said I had to. We’re the same, so one takes the punishment for the other.”
What the ever-loving fuck? Dillon sat there for a long moment. “Are they still alive? Your parents? I know Anthony is dead.”
“I assume so, but I don’t know. I don’t want to know.” Coke met his eyes again. “There’s more, Dillon.”
How could there be more? How? How could there be more than a parent forcing a kid to go to fucking jail for something he didn’t do? For rape. He’d read what happened to rapists in jail.
Dillon nodded, never looking away. “Tell me, babe. Get it out.”
“I killed him.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Coke couldn’t say another word. Not another, single word.
