Page 107 of Protector

“Lou? What’s wrong?”

She hiccuped loudly. “It’s John. He—he had a heart attack—”

“Which hospital is he at? I can be down there—” I threw my jeans on and jogged into the living room, searching for the keys to my bike. It was a nine-hour ride under normal circumstances, but maybe I could cut it down to six if I pushed it.

“You can’t,” Lou wailed. “Jamie—listen to me. They did everything they possibly could, but—” Her voice cut off in another sob. “He’s gone.”

Tears stung my eyes, but I shook my head. “Slim ain’t gone. I just talked to him on the phone last night. He’s comin’ to help me fix up a house—just tell the doctors to work harder because—”

“It was just too much for his body to take, and I,” she cried. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do right now!”

I pulled myself together long enough to quietly say, “You don’t have to do a goddamn thing, darlin’. I’ll be down there by tonight… help you get everything sorted.”

“He was here… and then he wasn’t—I just want to wake up from this nightmare,” she moaned. “How am I supposed to tell David?”

I strode out onto the front porch, letting the screen door slam shut behind me before pacing from one end to the other, unable to sit down… unable to accept the truth.

My best friend was gone.

Grief barreled into my body, taking me down to my knees just as Celia ran out, eyes wide with panic. I thrust the phone into her hand and stumbled out into the orchard, unable to fight the heaviness settling against my chest like an anchor.

After my conversation with Slim, I’d gone out and bought Mikey an old farmhouse. I could’ve found him something in town, but if he was anything like his old man, I knew he’d need a place where he could get away from the constant noise.

I’d sold it to him through one of my dummy companies for next to nothing, knowing it’d be a project for us. Slim and David had offered to help, and between the four of us, we’d had plans to restore it. The bond between Mikey and I would’ve been strengthened while Slim and I relived our glory days of doing manual labor for the club.

I stared down at my hands, seeing the evidence from years of hard living, but somehow remained convinced that we were too young for this.

The first rays of sunlight broke through on the horizon, bathing the orchard in light, but it didn’t seem fair. I’d been courting death my entire life; had even come close on more than one occasion, only to be stopped at the last possible second by a man who’d refused to give up on me.

He’d saved my life, but I hadn’t been able to save his.

With a roar, I struck the trunk of one of the pecan trees; pummeling the bark until it began to flake off onto my bloody knuckles.

I wanted to scream; wanted to use my fists to tear through another person’s flesh until they felt the depth of my pain in their bones. This time, there was no enemy I could go after; no blood that could be shed to make things right. The sniper who’d never missed a shot had been taken out suddenly by his own body. Where was the justice in that?

We still had our entire lives ahead of us. There were plans left to be made… goals that hadn’t been reached… enemies to fight shoulder to shoulder.

I wandered the orchard, feeling more lost than I ever had in my entire life, and it finally dawned on me what Slim had always known.

It didn’t matter how far gone I thought I was, he’d always been there to pull me back. He was the first call I made when something went right and the first to call me when something went wrong.

He was my reset button.

Even now, I found myself searching for the phone I’d left with my wife, needing to call and hear him tell me that things were going to be okay.

It was almost surreal. I couldn’t imagine living in a world where I wouldn’t hear his voice again. There’d be no more pranks played at my expense or nights spent arguing over who would kick the other’s ass in a fight.

I didn’t know how many hours I spent, walking in circles through the trees, trying to come to terms with the magnitude of what I’d just lost. When I finally looked up, I was standing not in the orchard, but in front of the Texas Redbud I’d planted. Even on autopilot, there was a part of me that knew exactly what I needed.

A place to grieve.

Celia had added a bench a couple of years ago, and I sank down onto it with a clenched jaw and a heavy sigh.

“I, uh, I ain’t been out here to visit you in a while,” I began, letting the tears fall onto my cheeks. “Didn’t really know what to say after your sisters got taken away. Maybe I thought you’d be disappointed in your old man. You know—”

My voice cracked, and I exhaled the sob that had been resting in my throat since I got the phone call. “When you’re young, you think you have all the time in the world. Me, I always thought the club was my measure of success, and I put everything into runnin’ it like a fuckin’ empire.”

Realizing what I’d said, I hastily added, “Sorry, your mama hates it when I curse. Maybe we’ll just keep that between the two of us. What I’m tryin’ to say is that I put everything into the club only to realize later that I’d never get that time back. And I think if I had it to do over again, I would’ve been more like Slim.”

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