Page 64 of Goose

I raised my index finger. “You’re right, he’s loyal.”

“Did his loyalty—or courage—get him into the predicament? The one that created the mess that you’re now forced to clean up?”

“It did.”

“Were his actions out of line? His act of loyalty?”

Cash saved Baker’s Ol’ Lady’s life. Out of line? Not at all. If Baker wouldn’t have had Cash with him, Andy probably would have died.

“He saved someone’s life,” I said.

“Is this someone friend or foe?”

“Friend.”

Her brows raised. “You’re angry that he saved a friend’s life?”

She’d done a good job of making her point. She did a better job of causing me to realize how shallow I’d been. I felt small. Miniscule was more like it. “I’m angry about the mess,” I murmured.

She chuckled. “Look around you, Goose. You don’t have loose ends. You’ve got to be in control of everything. Look at your flowers. Meticulously placed. Meticulously pruned. Everything within your control is in order. Neat. Tidy. In its place. Not everyone is like you. Some people leave their dirty clothes on the floor or have dirty dishes in the sink. They don’t pay their bills on time. Their lawns are overgrown, and their beds aren’t made. That doesn’t make them bad people. It just makes them different than you. Your friend has strengths so valuable that he saved someone’s life. He did what the club asked of him. He used his strength. Now, you do what the club asks of you. Use your strength. Clean up the fucking mess, Goose.”

She was good. Really good. I felt like shit. Not about Cash’s mess, but about how I’d reacted to my responsibility.

“Yeah, you’re right.” I let out a long sigh. “It’s just frustrating.”

“My guess is if he saved a life, he put his own at risk, huh? When he made this mess?”

I nodded. “He sure did.”

“I bet he said the same thing when that happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just frustrating,” she said, mockingly.

After reasoning with Ally, I felt like a turd for feeling the way I felt. She was right. The club relied on each of us to do what we did best. I needed to clean up the mess and be grateful while I did so that I had a brother as courageous and brave as Cash.

“You’re good for me,” I said.

“How so?”

“I’ve been the club’s voice of reason for years. I’ve never had anyone be mine, though,” I explained. “I guess that someone is you.”

“I’ll be your Huckleberry,” she said, quoting Val Kilmer’s Doc Holliday from the movie “Tombstone.”

I grinned. I was in over my head.

My only hope was that I didn’t drown.