“You sure as fuck are,” Winslow grumbled. “I’m trying to tell you that I like you, Flynn. You’re one of the good ones. Get your shit together.”
I nodded. “Okay. Yeah. I will.”
He sighed. “Talk to somebody about whatever’s on your mind since you clearly don’t want to talk to me. Don’t fuck upyour second chance at freedom. I want you to be one of my success stories.”
“Okay.”
“I mean it,” Winslow said, catching my eye. “When shit goes wrong, a lot of guys give up. Think maybe they’re better off in prison. Maybe they don’t belong out here with everyone else. You’re not thinking that garbage, are you?”
Was I? Not exactly, but…
“It was easier, sometimes. Everyone in there was like me. They’d made unforgivable mistakes. Out here, there’s good people. People who are better than me.”
“Don’t fall into that trap, Flynn. There’s shitty people walking free. Believe me. And there’s good men in prison. Who’s to say those mistakes are unforgivable?”
“Me,” I said. “My mistake was murder. There’s no fixing that.”
“No,” he said softly. “But you were protecting your brother. You were under incredible duress, Flynn. That’s why your sentence wasn’t more severe. If the justice system thinks you’ve paid your dues, why do you insist on punishing yourself more?”
That brought me up short. At the time of my sentencing, I’d been relieved that the jury understood the situation I’d been put in. But the life I’d taken weighed me down. My time in prison changed me.
I wasn’t the same man who stood in that courtroom.
“You can’t lose hope for a better future,” Winslow said. “Otherwise, we might as well lock you back up right now.”
Winslow was right. Until now, I’d been driven to rebuild my life. I couldn’t give up. For one thing, Aiden would never forgive me.
I’d already pushed Bailey out of my life. I couldn’t give up my brother too.
Halfway to my car, my phone rang. I checked the caller ID.
Holden Cross.
Oh, shit. Shit shit shit.
I’d been so caught up in losing Bailey that I hadn’t even considered that he might tell his brothers the truth about me.
I stared at my phone as if it were the grim reaper come to collect.
My heart wrenched painfully.
I’d confessed to Bailey so that he’d leave. Or maybe as a test to see if he could handle the truth about me. But never once, in all my recriminations, had I ever believed he’d tell anyone.
That was incredibly naïve.
I answered the phone. “Hi, Holden.”
“Were you at the pool hall last night?” he asked.
That wasn’t what I’d been expecting. “Uh, yes.”
“I got a call that Bailey was there shooting pool. Some guy hit him?”
“Oh, yeah.” I unlocked my car door and slid into the driver’s seat. “I broke up the fight, though. He’s okay.”
“He’s okay,” Holden said flatly. “Good to know. Someone said you two left together.”
“I…”
