Page 123 of The Rough Rider

For his kid.

Dammit all, what had he been thinking?

It could never be that simple. How could it be? How the fuck could it be? It would always be that place he’d been trapped in for months on end, with no mother to come check on him and his attempted murderer stalking around the house not taking care of him. His brothers having to see him as an invalid, while the whole story stuck in his throat, something that he could never share. It was always going to be this mess. All of it. Always. And he had...

He had let himself think that it wouldn’t be. He had let himself think that it was going to be okay. He had let himself think that... The dancing at the bonfire was enough to erase all the shit he’d been through. But then, that was the story of his life. Because he could dance in front of a bonfire, he thought—on some level flames didn’t bother him. But they were always there. The truth of it was always there. And what it had turned him into.

And she should recognize that. She should be afraid of him. She should let it push her away.

She walked past him, resolute, her chin in the air, and started pulling things out of the fridge.

“Why don’t you ever get mad at me?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m mad at you. I’m just doing my best to recognize that it comes from a place of pain.”

“Maybe you should fight with me,” he said.

“I’ve fought with you, Gus, it’s not actually that fun. Last time I cried, and you left me there weeping. So...forgive me for skipping it this time.”

“Fight back,” he shouted.

Because he was angry, but he’d never be the man berating a woman while she just stood there and took it.

“Thisisme fighting back. Because you don’t like it,” she sniffed, opening up the fridge and taking out a beer bottle, and putting it in front of him.

“I don’t want beer,” he said.

“Oh, stop it,” she said, grabbing the bottle opener and popping the top up. “You want beer. You want someone to call you out because you’re being an asshole, so you’re digging in. I’m sorry that hurts you. I wish that you would share with me. Share with me why it’s hard, Gus, don’t just get mad at me. Because I didn’t make your life hell. I didn’t make this house hell. We don’t have to live here. You don’t have to live here.” She just stopped and stared at him. “Why do you? Why did you live here all this time, and never go in those rooms, and save all that stuff that you never want to see, and only eat frozen pizza and never learn how to feed yourself. Why are you punishing yourself?”

The words hit him in strange and uncomfortable places, and at the moment he just didn’t like her very much. Didn’t like being with her. All the things that had felt great an hour ago no longer did. And that passionate vibe of hers was just suddenly a pain in the ass, and not inspiring in the least.

“Gus McCloud,” she said. “You are so happy to let everyone think you’re a martyr, but it’s not even that. You’re punishing yourself. And I don’t get it. You’ve never been anything but good to me, to everyone...”

“I’m not good, Alaina. I’m not. I’m not good.”

“Where is the evidence of that?”

“I’m a monster,” he said. “I’m not any different than my father, I’m not...”

“Why? Because of genetics? Is our kid screwed because Travis sucks? Is he going to be like Travis, in spite of whatyouteach him?”

“So convinced we’re going to have a son?”

“Well, what if? Is he doomed because of blood?”

“No. No, the kid is not doomed because of blood. Not any more than my brothers are doomed because they’re related to my dad. I’m not that much of a superstitious idiot. But I know myself. I know myself and... You don’t know.”

“Then tell me. I have been trying to beat down all those walls that you keep up around yourself for all this time, and you don’t want to let me in. You’ll sleep with me, but you won’t tell me. What is it? What is the thing that makes you pull away?”

“I didn’t kill my dad, Alaina. But I wanted to.”

“I understand that, Gus. I know that things...”

“You don’t know. You don’t know. I beat him up.”

“Yes. But that’s understandable. You had to get rid of him and...”

“I made him beg for his life. And I enjoyed it. All that same fear he used to have spilling out of us, I relished getting out of him. I told him that if he didn’t beg me that I’d kill him.”

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