Page 13 of The Trust We Broke
I shake my head to clear it, because I have no fucking clue what he’s talking about. “Gonna be honest, you’re gonna have to back up and start again because I spaced out there.”
“Catfish.” Butcher taps the table with two fingers. Now he’s a nomad, he made me sit in the president’s chair. He took Wraith’s spot, which used to be my spot, to the left of where I’m sitting. “Thanks for this update. Leave it with Grudge, and he’ll get back to you with a decision. Can you give us the room?”
Catfish closes his laptop. “Sure thing. Feels like it’s time for beer anyhow.”
“Grab one for me,” Butcher says. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
Catfish leaves church and closes the door behind him.
“You know, when you arrived in prison that day, you looked so fucking intimidating, I knew you were gonna get shivved within the week.”
I look over to Butcher. “I did not.”
Butcher nods, thoughtfully. “Yeah, you did. Someone had told you to arrive in prison with your face a mess so it would look like you were more than capable of taking a beating.”
“How do you know that?” I never said a word. Just got Atom to hit me a few times, and I know Atom wouldn’t say anything.
Butcher chuckles. “Because it was just your face. Nowhere else on your body ached. Nowhere else was marked. You weren’t holding your ribs. Didn’t flinch when you sat down. Weren’t limping. Just your face, which was a patchwork of bruises, but nothing that affected your vision. But with your attitude. The ink. The commitment to the hair. You were fearless. Undaunted by the whole thing.”
I huff. “Yeah. Maybe. But inside I was fucking ruined.”
Butcher nods. “You were. But not because of prison. You and I talked about that enough over the years that I know you wouldn’t change a thing about what you did. You were ruined because you’d gotten your divorce papers the day before. Because Lucy divorced you for doing what you did to protect her.”
A silence settles between us. Butcher always could read me better than most people. I can’t say he’s always been a father figure to me because my own father is still an active part of my life, even though he’s in prison without possibility of parole for killing an undercover FBI agent who tried to infiltrate the club.
But Butcher has filled in the gaps day to day.
He knows.
“I get it. You’re gonna tell me she derailed me once and not to let her do it again.”
Butcher laughs. “Maybe that’s what I would have said before I met Greer. But what I would say now is this: Unfinished business is the kind of thing regrets are made of. Whichever way it goes. Maybe you’ll regret not getting closure. Maybe you’ll regret never getting the chance to show her she was wrong. Maybe you’ll regret never recommitting to the one woman you were meant to be with for the rest of your life just because she made a mistake. Or maybe you’ll regret never telling her what a cunt she was to you.”
The wordcuntsets every nerve in me on edge. It’s like the hard snap of a static charge. I use that word all the fucking time. But in the context of Lucy… I don’t want anybody calling her that.
Maybe that’s the sign.
“I think there’s unfinished business. That’s all.”
“Then go talk to her. Sort it out. Let it go. This is your time to prove to the club you’re capable of taking charge. Then, you can rise above the stupid fucking whispers.”
I heard them again this morning. Overheard Gump, one of the old-timers, talking with Dice. He referred to me as Butcher’s charity pick. And that Butcher could have thanked me in other ways for saving his life in the last ten years without making me president.
I’m aware that people don’t think I’ve earned this. And that’s maybe why I already feel like I’m failing.
I sniff, pull back my shoulders, and recommit to not letting Butcher down. His legacy can’t be marred by his decision on who should replace him. I’ll figure out how to be a great fucking president.
And I’ve done fine all these years without Lucy De Bose. “I got this, Butcher. I won’t let you down.”
Butcher stands and squeezes my shoulder. “I know you won’t. Wouldn’t have picked you if I thought you would.Sometimes, it’s just hard to start the difficult thing. So, it lingers. Borrowing your mental energy as you try to keep it parked on the back burner. It doesn’t matter if you see her or not—she can still suck the life out of you.”
Think you just sucked the life out of me, Luce.
I remember saying that to her the first time she gave me a blowjob in the cab of my father’s old truck.
Fucking memories.
“I’ll deal with it.”
