Page 85 of The Sleight Before Christmas

Fucking humiliated, I nod, muted by the burn in my throat.

“Son,” he exhales as if my expression pains him.

“Sorry,” I croak. “See, this job c-could very well save my life,” I gasp. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but it’s the truth.” I palm my forehead, breaking in front of a total stranger because I can’t take another minute of the shitstorm that comes with being Christopher O’Neal’s son. My levee threatens to full-on break as emotion seizes me, and I shake my head, warring with it to be able to speak my way into a different life. Forever screaming as I have been for the last ten years. For a chance to fight for myself.

Jesus, somebody, please fucking help me!

“Thatch,” Allen gently coaxes, “can you try to talk to me about it?”

“I-I—” I glance back at my Silverado, my current home. One I’ve spent every night sleeping in for nearly nine months. Going from one apartment complex to the next and setting an alarm to jet before people start their morning commute—so they can’t spot and get a chance to report me. People always assume sleeping in shopping center parking lots is the better way, but I’ve found apartments are the least likely to check—at least in my experience. But I’ll take any night crammed up in that truck bench over a jail cell.

“I’m s-sorry, Sir. I’m fucking embarrassed.”

“Need a minute?” He offers.

“N-no,” the word comes out strangled as more humiliating tears roll down my cheeks. “I mean, yeah. Yes, please.”

“Take as much as you need and meet me in the backyard.”

I nod, palming my mouth, doing my best to try to get my shit together.

“Thatch?”

I look over to Allen, knowing my eyes are red-rimmed, and follow his gaze to see him staring at my truck as the truth of my situation sinks in on him. He glances back at me and holds my gaze.

“Take a minute, but don’t go. Okay? And then come back and talk to me.”

I nod, hating the fact that I can’t control my emotions. Not once in lockup did I cry. I took every day on the chin and bore it. Not once in the years before did I show any of this weakness. Not even with my brother, who damn near fucking killed me with his endless antics. Not when my mother terrorized me with her fucked mind games. Not when my father congratulated me for getting away with my first car. From the beginning, I understood we weren’t right—they weren’t right. The cruelty of my reality and the fact that I didn’t fit in at all and never really wanted to. I hated my family—still do, and now all I want is thespace. Which is easier now with my father facing a sentence of twenty-five to life, my brother missing since I was in jail, and my mother having run off with some old friend of my father’s. With their semi-permanent absence, I have this chance to finally free myself—to pay my restitution, finish probation, and leave Nashville. I gather my wits enough to fight again for my chance and stalk back to where Allen stands.

“Sorry about that,” I say, my voice clear. “I won’t bullshit you, Sir, but that means I risk losing this job. Even so, I won’t lie to you, no matter how damning it sounds.”

“Felon?” He asks.

“Yes, Sir. Grand Theft at seventeen, my juvenile record had me tried as an adult. I spent nine months in. I’m four months away from finishing probation, and I just need enough money to pay off restitution.”

“Do you want to tell me why?”

“No, but I will. I come from a family full of criminals, and I followed suit. It wasn’t expected, it was forced. The night I tried to escape it, my father pistol-whipped me to within an inch of my life. Two days later, I was arrested in a Maserati and was sentenced. I’ve broken all ties with my family and even offered them up for a plea.”

“Christopher O’Neal.”

“Notorious, I know. That’s the damning part, and that’s why I’m not getting any breaks and asking for any. I want to work my way out of this. I intend to get off probation and get the hell out of this state. Start over. Permanently.”

“I have two daughters, Thatch, and a son I would move heaven and earth to protect.”

“I’m cars only, and before that, I was petty theft. I can only give you my word that I would never harm you, as much as it might not mean. But I’m doing my best to try and make thatword mean something. I can only prove myself over time. I just need the chance,” I hear myself beg.

His eyes roam over me, and I see his reasoning kicking in, his expression not telling one way or another. “I’ll need to talk to my wife about this. I’ll have to get specific with her.”

Deflating, I nod. “I can go.”

“No, Thatch, stay, but I mean to tell her everything you relayed, Son. I do not lie to my wife. Ever. Well, at least about this, I did about the number of beers I drank two weeks ago.”

We share a grin, and my chest heaves slightly with hope as I do all I can to keep my shit together.

“I’ll work overtime for free, Allen. I just have to have a job to report to and get paid up. Pass my last few drug tests, and then I’m getting the hell out of here. I want no part of a future in Tennessee.”

“I understand,” he nods. “Sit tight and give me a minute. I’m making no promises, but if I go to bat for you with that woman, please don’t fucking let me down.”

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