I wouldn’t let her waste her life waiting for me while I festered in this hellhole.
Shuffling forward in the line for lunch, I handed over my tray as the men on kitchen duty slopped a runny taco with the barest amount of cheese. I pursed my lips in disgust then moved on to collect a bottle of water and a rosy apple.
Taking my food to the table squashed against the wall, I climbed over the bench and sat heavily. The prior times I’d been here, I didn’t remember being so fucking down. Sure, I wasn’t happy, but at least I still had a laugh with one or two of the guys I had become friends with.
I still had the motivation to go to the library or work hard on assigned tasks throughout the week.
This time? Fuck, I felt so tired. My body hadn’t gotten over the beating. My joints were still hot and swollen, reluctant and stiff to move. I hadn’t slept well with the occasional nap while glaring at the ceiling, and I had no desire to make friends, even while I knew it was safer to be liked than ostracized.
I just didn’t fucking care about anything anymore.
Maybe it was because I’d tasted what true happiness should be? I’d been wealthy, working toward a good cause, and falling in fucking love with a girl I’d wanted for three very long years.
To have that stripped away...it hurt. A lot more than being told I had a bed and regular food after months of roughing it in a New York winter.
“Hey.” A guy with black dreadlocks and a spider tattooed on his cheek sat opposite me. His long legs looked like a praying mantis as he clambered over the bench. “Name’s Scoot.”
I took a bite of my apple, extending my hand like civilized society demanded. “Penn.”
We shook then released. Scoot dived into his taco while I worked my fruit.
“You in for long?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Could be.”
“Me, I’m here for seventeen. Served three. Not even half-way there yet.”
I nodded in commiseration, placing the apple core to the side.
As much as I should chat and get to know this new crew, I found my mind slipping backward to a few years ago.
To the day when Larry came for me and I was able to leave as a free man.
*
TWO YEARS, THREE MONTHS AGO
––––––––
“We’re leaving.”
I did my best to control my heartbeat as it fucking leaped. However, I couldn’t stop my mouth from hanging wide in utter fucking surprise. “Are you serious?”
For three months, Larry had been a regular visitor. Between representing Gio and me, I guessed he spent most of his life behind bars. The only difference was he got to go home at night, and we stayed inside.
I shook my head, not daring to believe. “How?”
“Lack of evidence and too much circumstantial hearsay. You’re free to go.” He grinned, waving with his briefcase to the door.
The door.
That was open.
The room where we always met had become a safe haven for me. I didn’t know where in the prison it was located or how many steps I’d need to take before I traded locks for freedom but just the words free to go made my blood pump faster, feeding limbs speed and power, ready to bolt and never fucking stop.
“But—I have so much time left.”
“Time that was never yours to serve.” He leaned forward, whispering, “I wasn’t able to point fingers at Sean Twig this time, but I’ll continue to work on the case. I’ve had a few interesting leads pop up, so I’ll follow those and see where they go.”
I couldn’t...
How the fuck did he do this?
Why had he helped me?
What made me so damn special?
Larry had achieved the impossible. Not only had he freed me but he’d also kept me away from Arnold Twig’s hatred by not targeting his son. To this day, I had no idea why Twig hated me so much. Was it because I tried inherently to be good despite doing bad things? Because his son was a fucking idiot, who committed crimes because he was bored? Or had I mistakenly pissed him off at the beginning, and he’d had a grudge ever since?
Either way, it didn’t matter anymore.
Free.
I’m...free.
I almost fucking came with how sexy that word sounded.
“What will you do with the information once you’ve got it?” I tried to keep my voice disinterested when really I panted for knowledge. Would he go after Sean? Would he give me an even greater enemy in Arnold?
He cleared his throat. “I guess that’s up to you.”
Most of me wanted them to pay. To do the time I’d been forced to and steal parts of their lives in return. But a part of me was still terrified of Arnold. He had the power to lock me up all over again.
I should run and disappear.
Leave New York.
So he could never touch me.
Larry followed my thoughts. “As far as I’m concerned, this is over unless you want vindication. You’re free to do whatever you want.” He grinned. “If in the future you want justice, and decide to go after Sean and his father, you’ll have to promise me one thing.”
After everything he’d done for me in the past few months? Everything he’d listened to? The judgment he didn’t give? The kindness he delivered? The updates he gave on Gio in Fishkill? The visits he gave Stewie in Child Protective Services? The decision to apply for temporary custody of a kid who wasn’t his just because he clicked with him and wanted to provide a better future than the one he had?
Fuck, I’d give him anything he asked for. “I promise.”
“You don’t even know what it is yet.”
“Don’t need to. You’ve done me a solid, Larry. Name it.”
He smiled, and it was full of friendship and respect rather than demeaning and cruel. “Promise me you won’t end up here again.” His face shadowed. “If we do go after Sean and you end up back in here...God knows what Arnold Twig will do or how far he’ll bury you.”
Goosebumps spread under my prison uniform. That wasn’t a hard promise to keep. I’d keep it for me, not just him. “I have no intention of ever ending up here again.”
“Good. Keep it that way.” Larry placed the paperwork I just signed, accepting my release and terms of my parole, back into his briefcase. “Let’s go then. I think a burger and fries are the first points of business, don’t you?”
My mouth watered to have junk food while surrounded by air and no bars in sight. “You’re on.”
Marching toward the door, I paused on the threshold, expecting a hand to clamp on my shoulder or an order to return to my cell.
Fear crashed over my thoughts of burgers, believing for a split second that this was a dream and I’d wake up in my cot with years left to serve.
But nothing happened.
No commands. No punishment. No opening my eyes and seeing the same gray cell.
“What are you waiting for?” Larry pushed past me into the hallway. “Come along, I’ll have to leave you now while you’re processed, but I’ll meet you out front.” He patted my back. “You okay, kid?”
I swallowed the nerves, excitement, terror, joy. “Yeah, I’m good.”
*