Page 58 of Vegas Baby

He envied her tears because even after all these years, he held his own inside. If he let them out, he’d never get them to stop. “She broke it off with him and tried to get clean. She even started dating another guy. Of course, he couldn’t leave well enough alone.”

The panic came back in full force and he could no longer stand still. Detangling her hands, Howler skirted a bush, nearly tripping over a vine. His feet were numb, the harsh mountain air cutting through his clothing. The chill matched the one in his heart. He didn’t want to tell this story anymore, didn’t want to relive it. Except he had no choice but to finish what he started.

“He began to stalk her and trying to win her back by giving her free drugs. When she refused to leave the other guy, David gave her boyfriend heroin cut with Carfentanil.”

“Wait, what?” She grabbed his hand, jogging to keep up. “That drug is ten times worse than fentanyl.”

He slowed his pace, linking his fingers with hers. He had to calm down and not let the story overwhelm him. It was in the past and after today, he wanted to keep it in the past and never pull it out again. “Yes, he thought he’d get the guy out of the picture by killing him. Only he didn’t count on the boyfriend sharing the drugs with my mom.”

Bile burned his throat as he blurted out, “They both OD’d. I called 911 when she wouldn’t wake up.”

“You called 911? How old were you?”

Young, so young. Squaring his shoulders, he vowed he’d do everything in his power to make sure his child never suffered the way he had. “Nine. They arrested David for one count of manslaughter for my mom’s death and murder for the other guy. It wasn’t until Grams came to see him in jail that she found out about me. I was living with my aunt on the Rez, the only family I ever knew. David signed over custody to Grams without asking me and I was forced to go live with strangers.”

“How horrible for you. Luckily, Grams isn’t anything like her son.” The anguish that mingled with the righteous indignation in her voice struck an answering chord inside him and he cleared his throat. As much as the tears wanted to come, he knew they wouldn’t.

“It was a long time ago. He’s in jail and she’s dead. I can’t change the past, nor will I forgive him for what he did.” Howler willed himself to calm down but the restlessness refused to leave. Hands on his hips, he gazed off in the distance, unable to look at her, to see the inevitable pity. “I put your suitcase in the cabin. You’d better get out of those wet clothes. I’m going for a run.”

“You’re soaking wet,” she protested.

“I’ll be fine but I need some time.” He took off towards the basketball court. She called his name but he didn’t look back. Although he couldn’t run fast enough to erase his past. David knew it was wrong, yet he’d let his obsession for his mother override his common decency. She and another man were dead because of him and he could never forgive him. Nor could he forget the image of his mom curled up on the couch in a fetal position, lost to him forever and there had been nothing he could do but beg her not to die.

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Did you get enough to eat, Xavier?” Grams asked.

Howler stretched his legs out, his booted foot resting on one of the rocks surrounding the fire pit. Sitting outside at his family home had always soothed him, the part of his past that he needed to remember, not the darkness or the pain. His future was sitting right beside him, a baby and a wife, everything most men strived to achieve. Yet it was the last thing he’d wanted. Or so you thought.

“I could use another cookie.” He patted his stomach and slumped deeper into the lawn chair.

Raina shook her head, offering a tentative smile. “How can you eat another bite?”

“You’ve eaten Grams’s cookies. How can you ask?” He took the proffered container that Pop passed over to him and opened the lid. He wasn’t eating because he was hungry. Being here and talking to Raina had opened up a raw ache, one he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“If you want, I’ll give you my recipe,” Grams said to Raina.

“I don’t do the cooking, Howler does.”

“Howler?” Grams chuckled under her breath. “You call him by his nickname, how cute.”

“Did he tell you how he got the nickname?” Pop asked.

Fuck, he swallowed, hiding a groan. He should have expected his grandparents would feel it was their obligation to relay every bit of his childhood to her.

“I assumed it was because of the rid…robust laugh,” she corrected, casting him a sideways glance. She’d assumed that because it’s what he wanted people to believe.

“Nope, not even close,” Pop said.

“I’m sure Raina doesn’t want to hear this story.” It had come at a very difficult time albeit a key turning point in his life. He’d lost his mother, his father was in jail, and he was mad as hell at the world.

“Oh, I want to hear. Do tell,” she said, elbow on the arm of her chair, her shoulder brushing his at the action.

Howler shoved another cookie in his mouth. If he insisted they quit talking, he’d come off as a dick, because short of an asteroid hitting the earth, the story would eventually be told. “When Xavier first came to live with us, well, he refused to talk, wouldn’t say a damn word. We started hiking every morning…”

“He made me hike with him,” Howler said, smiling slightly despite his dread. He’d been traumatized, unable to articulate the horror he’d been through. He’d been ripped away from the familiar, and thrown into the home of strangers. What child wouldn’t balk?

“At first, maybe, but you have to admit, you warmed up to it mighty fast.”

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