Page 107 of Tortured Eyes
Epilogue
Five years later
Just a few more minutes taking in this space and I’ll head back. I stare at the gravestone, trying to find something wrong in my life. There isn’t anything that I’m aware of, apart from the usual problems associated with doing what I do. Other than that, I’m at a place in my life I never dared think I’d be.
Peaceful.
Happy even.
I chuckle and reach down to brush some of the leaves off the black granite, wondering what he’d think of me and where I am. He wasn’t like Nate. He was embedded in the violence as if it was part of him. The way I’m running things now has more Cane about it than Vico, sanity and calculation making the decisions rather than paranoia. Mostly. At least when it comes to Chicago. New York is a bitch to deal with, though. Some chaos will always be necessary to keep the balance in check here, and that element of business is good for my soul because I'll never be the same as my father. No backing off or backing down. No retirement. I’ll be a ghost until the day I die, no insignias or buildings to show the masses where I am or what I do. Mama’s is as close as I get to that, regardless of her death a year back. It’s my office, the place I organise from. Vico would like that part at least. Enjoy the thought of me there.
I back away a few steps, one final glance at the man who turned me into what I am, and I start weaving the paths back. Summer’s coming to an end. It’s been a summer I didn’t expect, even though I knew it was coming. I suppose that’s what happens when things change your way of thinking. They’ve both done that for me now. Given me a new direction to travel. Brought more sense into my head.
A lone figure stands waiting for me partway up the path, his mouth smiling and his robes kicking up around his ankles in the light breeze. I’m not surprised he’s grinning. I’m probably becoming the kind of man he always tried to pull out of me. Sane. Decent. Can’t say it’s bedded into my guts quite as much as he’d like it to be, but with time comes acceptance, apparently.
“Are you alright?” he asks.
I take a minute evaluating that question, all the time staring into those eyes I know so well. Alright? I’m better than alright. I’m happy, deservingly so according to him, and have now got a new chapter to begin. Something’s still hidden, though. It's still kept under wraps and clandestine. It's pissing with my chill.
“Not sure,” I reply.
“What does that mean?”
“Do you want me to tell him?”
He furrows his brow and steps forward. “Logan, I haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about.”
“My father. You’re about to shake his hand for the second time in your life. Do you want him to know who you are to me?”
His eyes widen, the smile wiped from his face. A while ago I would have been pissed at that, probably assuming that he would find the thought of someone else knowing about us embarrassing, but it’s not that now. I know it as well as he does. It’s the fact that if I tell my family, if I make that call and show them what we are to each other, then he’ll have to consider leaving the priesthood a little more seriously than he has done.
“Do you want to tell them?” he eventually asks.
“Yes.”
"Why?"
"Because you're a part of me. Part of who I am."
He nods and begins walking slowly, looking up at the church we’re heading for.
“And do you want me to leave here?”
His job, he means. “Not if you don’t want that. Could do with a little less of the God crap thrown at me, but I get inside you whether you're here or not, so that’s your call.”
He laughs lowly but doesn’t speak as he keeps moving. Guess it’s decision time for him. I don’t mind either way. It’s his life, and as long as he keeps sharing it with me when he can, I’m a happy man. I’ve got the best of both worlds. Him when we can, and Bryce full time. There’s nothing to complain about from my side, other than the feeling that I’m hiding something from my family. It’s not something I like doing anymore. I’ve become a Cane again over time, bonded back into who they are—who I am. Keeping something that’s precious to me away from them seems underhand. Dishonest.
“Nate was into talking. It was important to him, honesty and communication. I just want you to know I’m ready to talk to them about this if you are,” I murmur.
We turn one of the final corners to the entrance, both of us slowing, and the sound of Carter’s kids starts ringing out. I smile and listen to them hollering and laughing about something, Fia’s voice trying to calm them down. “It’s okay if you don’t want to yet, Samuel. Nothing changes.”
He stops and turns to look at me.
“It’s not that I don’t want to, but I have so much to do here, Logan. People need me. The parish and kids. It's my life when you're not. It's important to me, as is God. And you have Bryce.”
“I know. Like I said, it doesn’t matter to me either way. Other than keeping you under wraps.” I reach my hand to his shoulder, squeezing. It lingers there for a few moments and crawls to his neck, part of me wanting nothing more than to tell him how it’s going to be. He gazes at me, his mouth not ready to make decisions now I'm pushing him. “It’s alright, Samuel. Just know that if a time comes that you’re ready, I am, too.”
He’s about to talk, maybe give me some more words on the topic, when Anya comes barrelling around the corner, her brother chasing her full tilt with a rock ready to launch.
