I pull it out anyway and slowly turn it in my hand. The liquid inside is barely more than a mouthful. I slowly tilt the bottle back and forth, watching the rum slide against the glass and catch in the light, glinting like it holds fractured pieces of crystal that flicker and disappear before I can catch them.
Then I unscrew the cap and drink it all.
It’s not enough to do what I need it to do… but the taste of it on my tongue, and the warm burn spreading through my chest, brings a familiar sort of comfort.
I just wish there were more.
I keep the bottle in my hands as I slowly swivel in my chair to face the window, letting the sun cast its rays over my face.
But as I look out the window, it’s not the sun that sparks something in my chest.
My gaze locks on the trees as their fresh leaves twist and dance in the breeze. They look alive, and like they’re exactly where they’re meant to be, doing exactly what they’re meant to do.
Because they don’t lie…
Just a few weeks ago, those same trees were bare, and nothing but simple lines against a grey sky. They were stripped, exposed, and forgotten through months of cold. They stood unsheltered through storms, were coated in ice and snow, and offered nothing to anyone or anything as they withdrew to just survive.
And now… the conditions have shifted.
The sun came out, the soil thawed, and they were given the chance to breathe. Now they’re green, bright, open, and movinglike they appreciate just being here, and being alive. Like they know they’ve survived, and this moment is theirs.
My eyes stay fixed on the movement of the leaves as they spin and twirl, and I inhale with them. I pull the breath deep into my lungs and hold it there, hoping it can reach the place inside me that feels dark, empty, and frozen.
And for a moment… I think it does.
THIRTY-FOUR
My fistsclench as I push through the doors into the RCMP building, and stride through the foyer past the cold stares from officers and staff. Kurt keeps pace at my side, carrying the same determination as me as we scan the space for Donnie, and tune out the murmurs and disapproving head shakes.
I find him across the wide hallway, leaning against a cubicle partition while talking with some other Mounties. I stare at him until he feels it and looks over, then I hold up my hand and curl my finger in an unmistakable order for him to follow us. Then I turn and head back outside.
I light a cigarette as I lean against the brick wall outside, and draw the smoke deep into my lungs. It settles the raging storm inside me just enough to focus on what I need to do, even though I don’t fucking like it.
It’s not Donnie. It can’t be.
And once I prove that, I’ll quit smoking. I already managed a few hours this morning, I can do it again.
The door opens, and I watch as Donnie steps out and makes his way towards us, with a nod in greeting.
“Fellas,” he says. “Thanks for waltzing right into the office and letting me explain this away. Now what can I do for you?”
“We’ve got a problem, Donnie.” I tap ash onto the concrete, watching it scatter in the breeze.
He glances between me and Kurt, and Kurt just observes him through his sunglasses with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Sons?” Donnie asks.
“And a rat,” Kurt says flatly.
Donnie nods and glances around, lowering his voice. “Any idea where it’s coming from?”
Before I can say anything, Kurt cuts in with a shrug. “You?”
Donnie glares at him as his whole frame goes rigid with restrained fury. His gaze then darts to me as his jaw ticks, and I exhale smoke and shake my head, not even sure what to say.
He shifts his gaze back to Kurt and takes a step forward. “Fuck you if you think I have anything to do with the Sons,” he says in a low, rigid tone. “And fuck you for even hinting I’d betray the Kings.”
Kurt just nods slowly.
