Page 61 of Bourbon Truths
“It might help you get past the pent-up emotions you have,” Jett suggested.
I guffawed. “Oh, okay, so I go up to them and hand her a present? A complete stranger? Or should I introduce myself as the man who ruined their lives?”
“You haven’t ruined their lives,” Jett countered.
“Bullshit—”
Jett cut me off. “They could be completely fine, and you wouldn’t know that because you sneak around, hiding and living under a cloud, hoping for your death to come along quicker. Get your fucking head on straight and go see if they are truly hurting.”
It was the same rage Jett went on every few months once he couldn’t stand seeing me hurt anymore. I knew what my sulking did to him. I knew the position I put him in, and I felt bad he had to deal with my past.
“Drop it,” I warned. He was pushing my buttons, and I was about done with it.
Shaking his head, Jett leaned back in his seat. “I don’t get you, man. Why do you keep punishing yourself?”
“Why do you keep asking?”
“I have no clue,” Jett said softly, ending our conversation.
Silence rang as I found my way through the Quarter to the open market where vendors from around the city gathered to sell their homemade souvenirs and crafts. It was a tourist destination, but also, when you looked closely, past the knock-off sunglasses and corny T-shirts, you could find real treasure.
Once I found a parking spot, I cut the engine and studied the bottom of the steering wheel as I contemplated what I wanted to say to Jett.
“I know what happened that night was my fault, and I know you’ve done everything in your power to protect me, Jett, and I appreciate that.”
“It was for selfish reasons,” Jett cut in. I knew fully well Jett had protected me because he couldn’t lose me, not after he’d lost his mom.
“I know,” I responded. “When it comes to my life, you can protect me from the law, but you can’t protect me from my state of mind. The day my fist connected with Marshall Duncan, my life was taken from me, and it’s about time you accept that. The man you once knew no longer exists.”
With that, I got out of the car and headed toward the market, not turning to see if Jett was following me because I knew he would be. He never left my side.
The market buzzed with midday excitement, but there was nothing exciting about the task at hand. All it did was open me up to another kind of darkness that I welcomed with open arms.
* * *
“This is stupid,”I said, judging the present I tried to wrap. “It looks like a kindergartner wrapped this.”
“Then maybe she will think it’s from a friend.” Jett chuckled next to me.
“Why did you make me wrap it?” I asked, looking at the birthday candle-covered wrapping paper that was crunched together and held down by a long piece of tape.
“Because it was too comical to pass up,” he answered.
“You’re a dick,” I replied, fumbling with the wrapping paper. “If it was in the shape of a box, it would have been easier.”
“It’s a flat handbag,” Jett pointed out. “You just had to tuck the corners in nicely.”
“What are you, the fucking wrapping police?” I asked, trying to smooth out a wrinkle in the paper.
“No. I also don’t have time to sit around in the dark with you while you wait to drop off the present. Just do it already. I’m ready to eat dinner.”
“Missing a meal won’t kill you. You’re starting to look pudgy.”
It was the furthest thing from the truth. Jett was as toned as I was, thanks to our sparring sessions in the gym and the rigorous workouts I put him through.
“Pushing your luck, Haywood,” Jett grunted, answering emails on his phone.
I looked at the gift again, nervous. Was I doing the right thing? I thought of it as an act of kindness, the least I could do for Madeline, but how would she take it? How about her mother?
