Page 146 of The Spider & the Storm

Stormy's grip loosened. Her thumb stroked lightly over mine, and I could almost feel that featherlight touch through the barrage of reasons why I didn't think I was a truly good person at all. No, I wanted to be. I wanted to believe I was. But want wasn't the same as trulybeing.

A good man didn’t abandon his older brother.A good man didn’t have blood on his hands. But I did. I had walked away. I had stolen a life. I’d the choice to do things differently, but I hadn't. And knowing I'd been capable of it at all only told me I could do it again. So, how was I supposed to look into this man's eyes and tell him I was worthy of his blessing?

Fuck, why am I even here?

“No,” I replied, my voice rough like sandpaper and my heart sinking like an anchor to my gut. “I don't know.”

“Hmm.” Chris raised his folded hands, rubbing the side of his finger against his bottom lip. “Well, would you like to know what I think?”

I wasn't sure that I did, but I lifted my chin anyway. Ready to listen to this man's assessment of my character after knowing me for a total of three hours.

“I—”

“You know what? This is stupid,” Stormy interrupted in a tight, quavering voice, removing her hand from mine and pushing away from the table. “I thought it'd be a good idea to bring Charlie to meet you guys. I thought you'd like to see that I had finally, for once in my life, found a decent guy who actually likes being with me and treats me well and cooks and cleans and doesn't waste his time getting fucking high. But I guess I was wrong.”

She stood and was already heading for the dining room doorway when her father spoke up. “Stormy, if you'd let me finish—”

“Dad, why did you even have tostart?” She spun on her heel to face him. “You were already giving him the third degree before he even said anything to you. And, Mom,” she went on, turning to face her stunned mother, whose eyes were misting with tears and her mouth parted with shock and despair, “all Charlie was saying was, maybe it'd be nice to support me once in a while. Like, maybe it'd be nice to just … be happy that I'm happy. You know? Would that kill either of you?” She left the room then, her heavy platform boots clomping loudly againstthe floorboards as she moved through the living room and toward the front door.

God, what the hell is happening?

My gaze fell to the half-eaten slice of pizza on my plate as I remembered what Stormy had said about her parents not that long ago. About how she loved them dearly but needed the distance to keep the peace. I understood that now. How quickly it had all unfolded … was that my fault? Yes, maybe, but also, no. Their wounds ran deeper than my hurried attempt to defend her career.

I lifted my head to look from her mother to her father, both seeming troubled and lost.How can they not thank God every fucking day that their daughter hadn't faced the same fate as her friend, buried across the street?

My teeth dragged over my bottom lip as I exhaled deeply and shook my head. People never learned. They never knew what they had until it was gone—it was a common phrase for a reason—and nothing I could say was going to change that. Except …

“I might not know if I'm a good man,” I said, slowly rising from my chair. Her parents both startled at the sound of my voice and looked at me with wide-eyed acknowledgment. “But I do know that she's the greatest woman I've ever known. God smiled at me for maybe the first time in my life when He sent her my way. And I know you think it's your job to want better for her, but …” I released my breath and pushed the chair back in, hardly able to understand how I was capable of speaking to them in this way, defending her without a hint of weakness when I'd never been capable of defending myself. “I pray every single day that she never agrees, even though she probably should. Becauseif anything could convince me that I'm a good man, it's knowing that she, for some reason, thinks that I am.”

I didn't wait for them to speak as I turned and went in search of Stormy. Hardly able to hear my footsteps over the thundering of my heart.

***

She was on the darkened porch, leaning against a wooden post. Her breath came out in short, angry puffs of silver, fading into the cold night.

“Are you all right?” I asked, quietly closing the door behind me.

“Well, I’d fuckin’ kill for a smoke, but …” She sighed and rubbed her hands vigorously over her exposed forearms. “Yeah. Well, I mean, I will be, eventually. I just …” Her sorrowful gaze swung toward mine. “I'm sorry.”

Taken aback, I narrowed my gaze while I undid the buttons of my shirt. “The hell are you sorry for?”

Her weak smile didn't quite touch her eyes as she huffed a bitter laugh and thrust a hand toward the house. “Forthis. For telling you it'd be fine here. I mean, in fairness, it usually is. I don't always argue with my parents. But”—she released a long-winded sigh as I laid the shirt over her shoulders—“my sister is usually here with her kids, and the focus isn't on me, and my parents just freakin'lovemy brother-in-law. Which is a fucking joke, considering the dude has done major time and—”

“Your brother-in-law was in prison?” I hadn't expected that after the judgment her father had over me.

Stormy rolled her eyes and nodded. “Yeah. And that's …” Her eyes flitted to the cemetery across the street, now blanketed in darkness. “That's a whole other thing. But anyway, he's not a bad guy at all. I like him a lot. And it's because of him that my sister and nephew are even alive, so really, I owe him.”

There was so much I didn’t know about her family. In the past three minutes, she had unloaded a few facts that frayed with countless curiosities and questions. And it made me wonder. If she had told me so little about her family, just how little had they known about me? She had told me she loved her family, and I believed her. But she had also said her relationship was strained, and I was beginning to understand just how far that road traveled in both ways.

“Maybe you should talk to them,” I said, standing at her back and bringing my hands to her shoulders. Absentmindedly rubbing out the tension she held there while wishing I could call my own parents and tell them everything there was to know about her.

“You saw what happens when I try to talk to them.”

My mouth lifted in a smile. “I'm not sure I'd call that talking.”

“Excuse me. My mom asked a question, and I tried to explain before she cut me off and disrespected me and my job. Then, you cut in, which I did appreciate, and my father proceeded to disrespectyou. So, forgive me for not wanting to go back in there and have a fucking heart-to-heart with them but—”

She was cut off by the door opening behind us, and we turned our heads to watch as her parents came outside to join us. Her mother in a thick sweater, her father, in a coat. They'dcome more prepared to weather the night's chill, and that told me they'd likely come prepared in other ways as well.

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