Page 8 of Dirty Eoin

And the same room he left it in.

The gunshot wound was fatal. Ace knew it. And all he wanted was to come home to Rising. He needed to inhale the sweet air of his hometown and let it fill his lungs and that huge heart of his one last time. Where it will forever remain.

I’m a small-town boy, PJ. I always will be. You know that.

It was all he wanted before he lost consciousness he never regained. My beautiful boy who never asked anything of anyone but who always gave everything he had. Who never wanted to be any trouble and always took the time to appreciate and thank everyone who stopped by his life.

This time, he asked for something.

And that was to go home.

He also wanted Dylan to let me know that he loved me. And that I was to look after our two boys and do right by Fin.

Then Dylan, with the help of Tyler, did exactly what was asked of him and brought him home. And within a few moments of arriving here, in this room where he was born—the room where our son was born—he grew his wings.

And now I stare down at my beautiful boy. My very own Angel of Hellfire as he lays there motionless. Still. Silent.

Gone.

I’m Jason, and I’m eight. I’m Jaine, and I’m seven.

I push back hair that’s as black as the midnight sky away from his face. A face that still looks perfect in every way on a boy that was born just to be stared at.

A face that makes him look like he’s just sleeping.

Forever sleeping.

You think if our pops are best friends, and our moms are, that we could be best friends too? You want to go to the river? I can show you how to skim stones.

I want him to open his eyes and look at me. I want to look into eyes that are a blue as the bluest thing ever one last time.

Please, God. Let me just do that.

Why am I so plain, Jason?

You’re not plain. You’re just growing into yourself. From now on, I’m going to call you Plain!

You hid the Aces! You’re a big fat cheat, Jason Steele! From now on, I’m going to call you Ace!

Memories cascade through my brain. So many wonderful memories, but there are nowhere near enough. There will never be enough. And who will I have to share them with now? Who will I be able to reminisce over them with? Who will I be able to laugh and cry over them with? It was only ever me and him. Him and me. My best friend.

“Ace.”

I say it aloud, and it echoes in the stillness of the clinical white room, bouncing off each wall over and over until it deafens me. It makes no difference how often it’s repeated. He can’t hear me. He can’t answer. He’ll never be able to answer me again.

I can’t breathe. I want to die with him. Please, God, let me die with him.

And then I cry. I cry loud, painfully. I cry ugly.

For Ace. For myself. And for our baby son who will never know his daddy. Who will never experience firsthand the deep, kind, sensitive soul of Jason Steele. A boy I was so lucky to love and to have been loved so completely by in return. A man who put me and our boys at the center of his world and lived every day showing us just how much we meant to him. A boy who took nothing for granted, living each day like it was his last.

And today, it was.

If I hadn’t traveled to New York for my meeting, would he have gone to Nevada? If I hadn’t gotten involved in that shitshow in the first place when Razr went in all guns blazing, would he have gone then?

No.

I put him in that position. I put him in danger. I put him in the firing line. I might as well have pulled the goddamn trigger myself.

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