Page 36 of Before We Say I Do

Kyle smacked him with a backhand. "Finish!"

This time Mr. Jones grabbed Kyle and pulled him back as he wanted to hear everything Dexter had to say before his face was so swollen, he couldn't speak.

"To London, okay! Contrary to what you both may think, I do love her!"

"You're sick," Kyle said.

"I never looked at her inappropriately when she was young.”

Kyle's gut turned. He didn’t believe him any more than Mr. Jones did.

"When she grew into a woman was when I noticed her in that way, and I thought she wanted me too, but," he sighed, "I've had time in here to realize it was all in my damn head, okay!"

"Not okay." Kyle took a step forward, and Mr. Jones held on to him and spoke to Dexter.

"Why did you have her coming here if you knew this? Why subject her to the pain of sitting with you after what you've done to her?"

Dexter sighed again. "I'm alone in here. I'm…" he hesitated, "Alone in life. No one comes to visit, not even my mother." He slumped. "So when I saw an opportunity to have a conversation with someone, I took it."

"After everything, you're still a selfish bastard," Mr. Jones said.

"Damn right, I am!" Dexter shook his head. "What the hell do you expect from me? If it were you, wouldn't you want someone to visit too? I'm human!"

"It would never be me because I'm not sick like you!" Mr. Jones shouted back.

"Yeah, yeah, because you're perfect, right? I've got news for you. One mistake can change your life," he snapped his fingers, "like that."

"Except, it wasn't one mistake. Over and over, you continued to put your life and the lives of those around you in jeopardy because of your selfishness," Kyle barked.

"And you need more than jail time. You need real psychological help," Mr. Jones added.

"You think I don't know that!?"

"I don't know what you know, but from here on out, don't you dare think about contacting my daughter, or the next time you see my face will be your last time."

"And you better hope it's him and not me," Kyle added.

Dexter glared at them both, then dropped the pretense.

"Look," he spoke to Mr. Jones. "I'm sorry, okay. You're right. I need help, but I don't have anyone to help me. Can you?"

"I said you need psychological help. I can't help you."

"But you can. You have the means to get me some psychological help, don't you?"

Mr. Jones tsked. "You expect me to stay in your life? I can barely stand to look at you."

"But what would Jesus do, huh? Isn't that what a Christian like yourself would live by?"

"You are heavy on the manipulation," Kyle said.

"I'm desperate!" Dexter's eyes lurched. "I'm desperate, okay! But it's the truth. Jesus would get me help. Or better yet, he would help me himself!"

Kyle left Mr. Jones's side and strolled to the door, banging twice on it with his fist.

"No!" Dexter screeched. "You can't just let them drag me out of here. You have to promise to get me help!"

The door buzzed, then opened, and Manning walked into the room. He pulled up short at the sight of Dexter cowered in the corner with a blood-soaked napkin against his nose.

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