Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
“Why tell me to run?” I inquired of my father, voice low. “Why did you let him come into my dorm and tell me to get out of town like I was a… a problem you could send to Europe on a scholarship? Why get me out of the way?”
Dad shut his eyes. “I didn’t know he went to you until after. I never wanted any of this near you or your mother. If I would have known, I would have—”
“You would have what?” I snapped. “Called him and asked him to schedule his intimidation for a better time?”
He swallowed. “I would have met him myself. He doesn’t touch my daughter. This doesn’t touch you.”
“It already did. He already did,” I stated sternly. “With words.” I looked to Gabriel, “and you with your actions.”
Silence clamped tight around us.
Gonzo’s chair scraped softly. He stood, not to leave. To take off his cut and hang it over the back of the chair again like he was laying a weapon down on a table so no one mistook what kind of room this was. “I asked him for this,” he explained to me, not to Dad. “I told him if he wanted my help, he had to put the truth out where it hurts the most. You didn’t owe me forgiveness. You still don’t. But you deserved to hear it from him, not from a man who played people for a personal agenda.”
“Why?” The question came out a whisper. “Why do you care how I hear it?”
He didn’t blink. “Because you told me you won’t be a pawn. You were right. The only way to prove it is to show you the whole fucking board.”
There it was. I felt something in me shift, not toward him, not away from him. Just… aside. Making room for a fact I couldn’t swallow yet but couldn’t spit out either.
“What happens now?” Mom asked into her hands. “What do we tell… anyone?”
“The truth,” Dad stammered, stealing the word like he had the right to use it now. “I’ll make a statement to the commission. I’ll speak to the DA. I’ll give Devyn everything tonight.”
“Tonight,” I echoed, because it mattered. He nodded. GJ didn’t deserve what he was going through.
I sat back. The room blurred and sharpened. I felt like a child and a woman who lived a thousand lives all at once. The girl who stayed close to home because the world was a scary place was gone from inside me. In her place was someone altogether new. She was the woman who watched a biker pull her out of a war she hadn’t known she was already in. And she was going to endure and stand tall through the mess.
“I want to hear you say his name,” I said this to my dad. “GJ. Say it. Gabriel Gonzales, Jr.”
He swallowed. “GJ.”
“Say what you did. Own it.”
“I denied him bail,” he whispered. “I let a jury hear what Hampton Stanley wanted, I intervened with their deliberation, and not what the law would have allowed. I refused motions I should have granted. I let a boy get swallowed by a system I knew was crooked because I was afraid to lose a robe.”
“Say it,” I remained stern. “Tell his father that you took away his freedom and you were fine with taking away his life.”
My dad looked down, the shame washed over him. “I did. I took away his freedom and I didn’t care about his future or his life because I was selfish and hiding my own transgressions.”
The sentence hung between us like a weight no one dared to lift. Because I also knew deep inside, Gabriel was full-on outlaw Gonzo and came for me to mess with my future and take away my freedom to love as payback for what my father did to his son. And I think that was what cut the deepest because I was head over heels in love with an outlaw who played me for the fool.
I nodded once, because a part of me needed that. Then I stood. The chair legs scraped. Mom flinched like a gun had gone off.
“I’m going outside,” I shared with no one in particular and absolutely intended it for everyone. “Don’t—” My voice broke. I steadied it. “Don’t follow me.”
I stepped out onto the porch, into air that felt like it had been washed and hung to dry. The sky was the color of a bruise turning from yellow to purple. Farther down the street, a dog complained to the dark like it had opinions about everything.
I pressed my palms to the porch railing and tried very hard not to cry.
Boots on wood. I heard them but more than anything, I sensed him.
Slow.
He didn’t crowd me. He stopped a full arm’s length away. I didn’t tell him to go back inside.