Page 16 of Butcher's Honor

Another half-truth. I'll keep them safe, but distance is better. Safer.

She nods, but I can see the disappointment she's trying to hide. I force myself to turn away, to walk down her porch steps without looking back. But I can feel her watching me, standing in her doorway as I cross the small space between our houses.

Mom opens her door before I can knock, like she's been waiting. Maybe she has been—she always did have a sixth sense about these things.

"Wasn't expecting you for dinner," she says, but she's already stepping aside to let me in. "Not that I'm complaining."

"Got time for your only son?"

She snorts, heading for the kitchen. "I've always got time for you, Joey. Especially when you're trying to hide from something."

I follow her, watching as she pulls leftovers from the fridge with her good hand. "Not hiding."

"No?" She gives me a knowing look. "So you weren't just at Ruby's for the past two hours?"

Damn nosy mothers and their window views. "Derek came back."

Mom's face darkens. "That lowlife. Is she okay? The little one?"

"They're fine. Derek won't be back." I help her reheat the pot roast, falling into familiar patterns. "Had Wrath and Crow made sure he got in his car."

"Good." She sets plates on the table. "Now tell me what you're really running from."

I sink into a kitchen chair, suddenly feeling every one of my forty-five years.

"She trusts me, Mom."

"And that's bad because...?"

"You know what I am. What I do."

She sits across from me, her good hand reaching for mine just like I'd held Ruby's earlier.

"I know you're my son. I know you protect what's yours. I know you have a good heart, even if you try to hide it."

"I'm not good," I insist. "I kill people. I hurt people. I'm—"

"If you say you're like your father, I swear I'll smack you with my cast."

I look up, startled by the steel in her voice.

"Your father," she continues, "was a coward who hurt people because he enjoyed it. You hurt people to protect others. There's a difference."

"Is there? Violence is violence."

"Joey." She squeezes my hand. "Why are you really afraid?"

The truth claws its way up my throat. "What if I can't protect them? The Outlaws... things are getting bad, Mom. A war is brewing. And if they found out about her, about Tommy..."

"So you'd rather push them away than risk them getting hurt?"

"Better hurt feelings than dead."

Mom is quiet for a moment, studying me. "You know what I remember most about when your father left?"

I shake my head.

"How lonely it was. Not because I missed him—God knows I didn't—but because I was so focused on protecting you that I pushed everyone else away. Didn't let anyone get close. Thought it was safer that way." She smiles sadly. "Took me years to realize that being safe isn't the same as being happy."

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