Page 79 of Deserter

Celia sucked in a breath and whispered, “Jamie, no.”

“I did everything I could, but I couldn’t fix it.” I stared over her shoulder into the darkness, doing my best to keep my face impassive while reliving every emotion from that night. “Angel, the biker she was with, came, but it was too late.”

“How old were you?”

“Ten.”

“Jesus, you were just a kid.” Her voice was soft, but not pitying. Maybe she knew I couldn’t take her feeling sorry for me; especially not after the things I’d done.

I wanted to tell her about my nightmare but giving it a voice would only make it seem more real. If I told her, I’d have to go back to that night and confess to what I’d done.

Celia might’ve condoned a lot of my actions, but there was no way in hell her Catholic heart would be as forgiving. I’d killed my old man in cold blood and given the chance, I would watch the life leave his eyes all over again. His death had made me the man I was and exposed my need for pain.

My girl would never see that side of me if I had anything to say about it. Celia was pure and I wasn’t about to taint her with the burden of my sins.

She deserved better.

My kids deserved better.

Mikey had been a bitter reminder that the destiny of the wicked was destruction. The world wasn’t supposed to reward men like me, but holding her in my arms felt like redemption.

“You came after me… even after the way I’ve treated you. Why?” I’d never been handed a goddamn thing in my miserable life, until her.

I’d envisioned us going up like a bonfire and burning out just as quickly, but whatever it was between us had been burning steadily since our first night together.

Celia kept her head down, making small circles across my shoulders with her hands as she thought about my question. “I guess it’s like when I volunteered to help with the Sacramental Prep class at church. There were a few children who struggled with some of the concepts and it was apparent that they weren’t being helped at home. Those were the ones who needed someone to guide them.”

I tucked her head under my chin with a frown. “You lost me, princess. Ain’t stepped foot in a church in quite some time.”

“I’m not asking you to go to church. First of all, confession alone would take forever… I’m talking years—”

“Is that so?” I worked my fingers under her arms, and she squirmed to get away with a shriek of laughter.

“Stop! Stop! Oh my god, I’m going to pee!”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Hang on. Just give me two seconds.” Celia shifted off my lap, still naked, and bolted for the bathroom. The momentum forced a heavy object against my shin with a clink.

“Celia, why do you have a gun?”

“Um, just give me a second,” she called from behind the bathroom door. I turned it over in my hands, feeling every notch and groove until I became convinced that it was mine.

The door reopened and she climbed back into bed beside me. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

I strained to see her face in the dark, wondering what in the hell she thought I’d find funny about this. “You had a gun… in your lap. I’m not laughing.”

“I found it when I was cleaning. You were screaming in your sleep and I thought that someone was hurting you. I wasn’t about to let that happen.” She cleared her throat and looked down at the sheets.

She’d grabbed a gun to defend me; the woman was carrying a baby, yet her first thought had been my safety.

“And your catechism class analogy?”

“Wait, you’re Catholic? I thought you were kidding with the whole church comment. Did you grow up going to mass or—”

“Celia,” I warned with a growl.

She sighed. “Fine. I came after you because that’s what you do when you love someone. It finally hit me after you and John left that I was expecting something from you that you weren’t capable of giving.”

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