Page 131 of You're so Bad

It’s where I belong.

Shauna follows me in and shuts the door, and I can tell from the set of her jaw that she’s ready for an argument. So I take her hand and lead her to the couch. We both sit.

“You’re going to try to push me away,” she says.

“There’s something I need to say.” My voice is already strangled, and I feel the emotion sitting inside of me like a ball—dredged up from down deep, where I buried it six feet under.

“So say it,” she says, plenty of fire behind the words.

“I told you Gidget died because of me.”

She nods, clearly surprised. She didn’t expect me to talk about my dead dog, fair enough.

“It happened while I was working as muscle. A few guys were pissed at my boss, so they followed me around. I was going to be his lesson.” I swallow. “I’d brought Gidget to the store. I was only going to run in for a minute, pick up a pack of cigarettes. So I rolled the window down a couple of inches and left her in there. But they snatched me, and I never made it inside.”

Her eyes have tears in them, and I can feel warmth behind my eyes too.

Your fault. It’s all your fault.

“They roughed me up but good. By the time they let me go, it had been hours. She was dead in the backseat of the car, and I know it wasn’t easy on her. She’d clawed at the side of the car before she went.”

My voice breaks. Shauna tries to take me in her arms, but I pull back.

Your fault.

“Don’t,” I say. “I don’t—”

“Don’t you dare say you don’t deserve some comfort.”

I almost laugh, but I feel the tears falling down my face, and I’m ashamed.

“I don’t, though. Don’t you see? I didn’t mean to hurt Gidget, but she died because of me. The biggest mistake she ever made was trusting me.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

I do laugh this time, and it’s bitter and hard. “It was, Shauna, and I bear the weight of it. I’ve been a fool, adopting Bean. Spending time with you…”

She takes my hand and squeezes it. Looks me in the eye. “Listen to me. You made some bad decisions, but a hard road led you there. You’re not a bad person. The people responsible for what happened to Gidget are the guys who hurt you.”

I pull free and get up. Start pacing. My cheeks are wet, and that void inside of me feels like it’s pulsing, and some bad shit is about to break free from it.

“I wanted to make them pay, to beat their faces blue. But I didn’t because I knew it was my fault. I was the one who was supposed to protect her. Don’t you see, Shauna? I’m always going to be broken. And that means everything I touch is going to break too.”

She gets to her feet. She’s crying too. I don’t want her to drive like this, but I also need her to leave, because I feel a crushing need to take her into my arms, to let all of the tears I’ve trapped inside of me fall. To tell her that I love her more than I’ve probably loved anyone, and that’s why I’m sure I’m going to destroy her.

“That’s not true, Leonard,” she says. “You don’t always have to be broken. If you think that, then it’s like saying Reese is always going to be broken. Or me. Bad stuff happens to everyone, and we all have a chance to work through it.”

“I blew off my second chance. When shit became real, and I found out what Burke’s parents were up to, I turned tail and ran. If I’d stood my ground, I wouldn’t be in this position right now. I’m probably going back to jail. You want to write me letters? Flash me your tits over the table?”

“You’re not going back to jail. They’re bullshit charges, and you know it.”

“Since when has that ever mattered?”

She stands there for a moment, watching me, her eyes flashing. “The only way you’re a coward is if you step back from us now. If you run from us. Maybe we’re your chance.”

Haven’t I dared to hope it?

But the truth of it is written on the wall. I’m a losing bet.

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