Page 174 of The Spider & the Storm

“What?”

I lifted my hands from the table, only to drop them again. “I wouldn't …” I tried to blink the tears away, but they began to fall despite my efforts, and I didn't care. “I wouldn't have killed Tommy.”

Luke was already beginning to shake his head as understanding fell over his face. “Charlie, we've talked about this. Heattackedyou, and youdefendedyourself. You did nothing—”

“I should behere,” I whispered, sweeping my tearful gaze around the visitor center. “I'm a murderer, too, and I should be here, with you.”

“Stop it. You're not a murderer.”

“That's probably not what Mrs. Wheeler thinks.”

“Yeah, well, fuck what she thinks. She raised two pieces of shit who—”

“Who were killed by two other pieces of shit,” I interrupted loudly, bringing a few of the other inmates and their families to look in our direction. “One of whom is out in the world, capable of … of …”

“Ofwhat, Charlie?” It was Luke's turn to look utterly exhausted. “What the fuck is it that you think you're capable of?”

I kept my mouth shut, unable to say it.

He shook his head, disbelief on his face and something like amusement in his eyes. “You think you're gonna snap and kill someone else, huh? You think you're just gonna”—he shrugged nonchalantly—“walk into a Walmart and decide,You know what? I hate that lady's ugly pants, and I’m gonna bash her head in with the nearest meat tenderizer?”

I scrunched my nose and dismissed him with a wave of my hand. “Oh, shut the hell up. You know what I mean—”

“No, Charlie, I don't.” He huffed, incredulous. “I mean, by your logic, that's how it is. You're a cold-blooded killer. You could snap at any moment. You could—”

“Do you think you'd choke the fucking life out of some random asshole if you weren't in here?” I leaned further across the table, anger fueling my every move.

Luke slumped into his seat and gripped the back of his neck, dropping his eyes to the table. “Our situations aren't the same, Charlie. I made achoice. I—”

“And Ichoseto grab that knife out of my fucking drawer. I saw my options andchoseto stab Tommy in the back instead of letting him murderme. Ichoseto live, no matter what that meant for him.”

“Okay, and Icould'vechosen to walk away when Ritchie wouldn't shut the hell up, but Ichoseto wring my hands around his goddamn neck instead. Isnapped, Charlie. I lost control over myself, andthat'swhy I'm here. You didn'tsnap. You didn't lose control—”

“Oh, but I'm totally fine right now, right?” I gestured to my face. “I mean, I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not fucking sleeping. I'm hardly fucking eating. Shit, I can't remember the last time I took a shower.”

He nodded. “I know. I understand. And that's why I'm gonna tell you to get help. Talk to the doctor. Check yourself into—”

“I'm leaving.”

Shit. I hadn't meant to spring the news on him like that, but I couldn't keep it in any longer. And now, Luke stared at me, surprised and unblinking.

“You'releaving? What do you mean?”

“I mean, I'm leaving,” I said, a little calmer than before. A little sadder. I swallowed down the familiar feeling of grief and continued, “I didn’t want to, but … I can't stay in that house, Luke. I can't fucking do it anymore. I haven't been okay in, in years, but after what happened with Tommy, I just can't do it.”

He slowly began to nod and sucked in a deep breath. “Okay. Okay, yeah. I understand that. I've been telling you for years to get out of there, to get the hell out of town and start over. I just …” He cocked his head and shrugged, as if to say,I just never expected you to do it.

I just never expected you to leave.

“I still don't want to,” I whispered. “But I don't think I have a choice.”

“You don't need to make excuses to me,” Luke replied, too cool to let his feelings show. “You gotta live your life, man, and it's about damn time you did. Honestly, I'm …” He shrugged again, slouching back against his seat. “I'm proud of you.”

“Oh God, shut up, Luke.” I shook my head, dragging my hand over my face and letting it drop once again to the table. “Don't be fuckingproudof me. I'm notliving my life, you asshole. I'mrunningfrom it.”

“Or, you know …” He paused for effect, pinning me with a meaningful glare. “Maybe you're finally running toward it.”

I stared back at him for several long, thundering beats of my heart, studying every weathered line etched into his skin and the healthy color in his cheeks and the neat trim of his hair and beard. He held a new spark in his eyes, beneath the fresh layer of sadness and concern I'd put there, and the knowledge that he was trulycontentstruck me square in the gut. Sober and good. God, he wasgood—still! After three years in this place, he was still good and thriving, as much as he had been in that first year, if not more. But the anger I'd felt then was no longer evident. What I felt now was … envy, yes, but also comfort. Comfort that I was leaving him in a good place.

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