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“But?”

“But I need him to stop blaming himself for Mikey’s death. I mean, he just let those guys beat the shit out of him. He just stood there. And you know what he said to me? That he was ‘paying a debt’. When does he stop paying? When does he start living his life? For us?”

Mom sighed heavily and shook her head.

“Guilt is a terrible burden,” she said quietly, looking up at me. “Believe me, I know.”

I understood what she was saying. I appreciated it, but it didn’t really help either.

She didn’t stay long after that. But just before she left, she bent down and whispered something to Jordan. I couldn’t hear what she said, but it felt like she’d made her peace with him. With us.

 

 

Torrey

 

“A whole month without sex? Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” Jordan whisper-yelled, his face disbelieving, his eyes hurt.

I folded my arms.

“Nope. No sex. Doctors’ orders.”

I picked up the leaflet we’d been given when he’d been discharged after four days in the hospital, and waved it in his face: What to expect after your retinal surgery. When he ignored me, I pulled the leaflet open and read the relevant section out loud.

“‘ The first week after surgery should be reserved for rest with slow, careful movements only,’” I enunciated carefully. “‘ Activity may be resumed after one month, but heavy lifting, for example objects over 20 pounds, as well as strenuous activities should be avoided while the eye continues to heal. ’ So basically, Jordan, if your eye isn’t healing properly, you won’t get laid even after a whole month is up. We are not risking your eyesight. You went without sex for eight years—you can manage a couple of months.”

He’d been home from the hospital for less than half an hour and had already begged me to get naked with him.

“I mean, jeez! Look at you!” I hissed, not wanting his parents to overhear our intimate discussion. “You’re all banged up, broken ribs and shit! Other than blowing you, there’s not much we can do anyway.”

His uninjured eye widened and he licked his lips. “Uh, that sounds real good, sweetheart.”

“No. Freakin’. Way,” I said shaking my head, annoyed with myself for giving him false hope. “God knows what damage you’d do! Having an orgasm is like sneezing. Your ribs would just about kill you, let alone what it could do your eye. Ask me again in a month.”

His face fell and it was quite a job to keep from laughing.

He bit his lip, thinking hard.

“Well, how about I get you off?” he asked, hopefully.

I hadn’t thought of that. Huh, I had to admit I liked the way his mind worked.

“That’s a definite maybe, but right now you need to rest.”

Despite his objections, he was obviously exhausted. I helped him pull off his pants and shirt, trying not to wince when I saw again the mottling of yellow bruises that covered his chest, hips and back. At least the swelling on his face had gone down, but he had to wear a protective guard over his eye for another day, and for the next two weeks at night to prevent him rolling on it or damaging it in his sleep.

I’d just pulled up the sheets around him when there was a knock on the door.

“Everything okay?”

Gloria’s voice was hesitant on the other side, but Jordan frowned.

“What does she want?” he snapped, not bothering to keep his voice down.

I shrugged.

Gloria had started trying to make some more effort toward Jordan since visiting him in the hospital, but I was afraid it was too little, too late. I hoped I was wrong. Hell, Jordan was the most forgiving person I’d ever met, but his temper was worn thin right about now, especially with his parents. Ironically, it was because of Gloria’s previous attitude to me, rather than what she’d put him through over the last eight years.

His relationship with Paul was more tenuous, too. He seemed to think his dad had chosen sides by having Gloria back in the house. One way or another, Paul was between a rock and a hard place. I felt sorry for him, but my priority was Jordan.

I opened the door and found Gloria waiting outside with two mugs of herbal tea.

“I thought you might be thirsty,” she said. “It’s herbal tea … you mentioned that he shouldn’t have caffeine, so…”

“Oh, right. Thanks,” I said, accepting the drinks. “Jordan’s going to take a nap now.”

Her face crumpled.

“But I’m sure he’ll want to drink this first. Thank you, Gloria. That was very thoughtful of you.”

Behind the door, Jordan was pulling a face and shaking his head.

I closed the door again and tried to give him the mug with the thin brew. He wrinkled his nose.

“I hate this shit.”

“Shut up and drink it. You’re not getting coffee. Not while you’re trying to rest.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and looked mutinous.

“She’s trying, Jordan,” I said, softly.

He shot me a bitter look. “When did you join her cheer team?”

“Don’t be a jerk. She knows we’re going to be out of here as soon as your parole is up. She wants to make her peace with you. At last.”

He sighed heavily. “I know. I just don’t care, and I’m not sure I want that anymore.”

“Maybe it’s not about what you want,” I hinted. “Maybe it’s about helping her to come to terms with Mikey’s death and everything that’s happened. She knows she’s been a shitty mom for the last eight years, but you said she wasn’t always like that. If all she can manage is to make you a lousy herbal tea, then fine—it’s better than nothing.” I looked at him directly. “It’s better than her hating you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay, I get it. Still fuckin’ hate this. It tastes like piss,” he moaned, taking the mug.

I smiled, because I knew that meant he’d let her in, eventually.

 

 

 

The next day my words came back to bite me in the ass. Of course.

I’d been up long enough to get Jordan some juice and a plate of scrambled eggs courtesy of Gloria. Then I shoved some more pain pills at him and helped to take care of his eye. Just doing all that wore him out, so I left him to go back to sleep while I showered and dressed.

Paul had headed out to work and Gloria left a note saying she’d gone to the store. I was left to wander around the house by myself.

I ended up in Mikey’s room. It was less of a mausoleum than it had been, but it still looked as if they were waiting for him to come home. It made me sad.

I picked up his yearbook and started going through it. I flicked through the photographs, seeing pictures of Mikey on every other page: the football team, the senior prom, prizes for the best smile, the best body and the guy most likely to succeed. He’d also won biggest flirt and biggest party animal. I felt like putting stickers on those pages and making Gloria look at them. But what would be the point.

Then I saw a photograph that made me pause: Mikey, Ryan and Jordan. Mikey was in the middle and they were all standing with their arms around each other’s shoulders, grinning at the camera. You could see that Mikey and Jordan were brothers. Jordan was the taller, but slighter than he was now. He looked very much a kid. That picture must have been taken just a few months before the accident. The caption said, Best Buddies, 2006.

My thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the front door. God, I hoped it wasn’t a surprise parole inspection. That was the last thing that Jordan needed. Or me, for that matter.

But when I yanked it open, it wasn’t anyone from the parole team.

“Hello, Torrey. May I come in?”

“What are you doing here, Mom?”

“Well, after our talk, I felt I wanted to speak to Jordan, too, if that’s all right. I wanted to apologize to him personally.”

I opened the door wider. “He’s sleeping at the moment. He gets pretty tired.”

“Perhaps I could wait?”

I sighed and waved her inside.

“Yeah, fine. He’ll probably be awake shortly. You want a coffee or something? I can’t drink it in front of Jordan because he’s supposed to be off caffeine for now.”

She smiled.

“That sounds wonderful. You always make the best coffee.”

“Yup, almost a professional,” I said, snippily.

She followed me into the kitchen while I made a fresh pot.

“I bet you’re glad to have him … home.”

I threw a look over my shoulder.

“I don’t think this is much of a home for him, Mom. For either of us.”

She hesitated a moment.

“You could always come to me, to the Rectory.”

“I’m not leaving him here!” I snapped.

“I didn’t mean that—I meant you could both come, if you like.”

I blinked at her in surprise.

“Really?”

“Yes, of course. You’re my daughter … and I hear Jordan is going to be my son-in-law—although I can’t see a ring.” She paused when I didn’t say anything. “Is it true?”

“Maybe, yeah. I just said it to the hospital staff because they weren’t telling me anything, but yeah, he has mentioned it to me.”

“And?”

“And I don’t have the highest opinion of marriage.”

“Oh, I see.”

I shrugged.

“I don’t know, Mom. I think Jordan plans on wearing me down until I cave in and say yes.”

She smiled and her eyes sparkled with amusement.

“I think he’ll make you a very good husband, Torrey. You need someone to stand up to you.”

Her optimism was making me uncomfortable.

I finished my coffee and stood up. “Come on then. Just … don’t upset him, Mom. He’s been through enough.”

She shook her head. “I just want to talk to him, that’s all.”

“Yeah well, words can hurt as much as fists,” I pointed out.

She nodded her agreement, and we made our way up the stairs.

“Just give me a second while I wake him. If you walk in on him now, he might think he’s getting the last rites.”

Mom rolled her eyes. “Very funny, Torrey.”

Yeah, except I wasn’t joking.

I pushed open the door and walked in. Even though I was used to seeing the bruises, it still hurt to look at him.

He opened his good eye as I sat on the bed next to him, and he smiled.

“I sure like this dream,” he said. “Who are you, beautiful?”

“Ha-ha. If this were a dream, you wouldn’t be all banged up.”

“And you’d be naked,” he added, winking at me.

“Rein it in, cowboy. My mom’s outside—she wants to see you.”

He looked confused for a second, then his anxious look was back.

“She wants to see me?”

“Specifically, she wants to apologize to you.”

“What for?”

Mom’s head peered around the door. “A few things, Jordan. Quite a few things.”

She winced as she walked into the room, shocked again as she took in his bruised and battered body, and the eye guard taped in place.

He mumbled something under his breath and struggled to sit up.

“How are you, Jordan?” she said.

“Fine,” he answered, automatically.

Mom paused. “Well, I’m glad you’re out of the hospital. I was … worried when I heard what had happened.”

I bit back the remark that was on the tip of my tongue to spit at her. She said she’d come to apologize. I knew I should let her do it.

Jordan simply stared at her, his face slipping into that cold, unreadable mask.

Mom sat in the wooden chair next to the bed.

“I owe you an apology, Jordan. As my daughter has so rightly pointed out on several occasions, I have been guilty of double standards. I preached tolerance and forgiveness but didn’t practice it. For that, I’m sorry. What’s happened to you, and I don’t just mean this,” she waved toward his damaged body, “life has been very harsh. I hope you can forgive me for adding to your burden.”

Jordan looked uncomfortable and glanced at me. I shrugged. Forgiving her was his decision. I already had. Sort of.

“Yeah, sure,” he said, at last.

“Thank you,” she said, quietly. “Would you mind if I prayed for you? For both of you?” She glanced at me and smiled. “I’ll make it a short one.”

“Go for it, Mom.”

She took Jordan’s hand in hers, and he threw me a panicked look. I shook my head slightly, smiling at his expression.

“Lord, you are loving and kind and merciful. Create in us today new, clean hearts that can forgive those who have transgressed against us and against you. Restore us all to the joy of your salvation, this day and evermore. Amen.”

She looked up. “Short, sweet, says it all, don’t you think?”

“Um, yeah?” Jordan agreed, tentatively.

I gave her a small smile. “Nice one, Rev.”

She stayed a few more minutes, asking about our plans for the future. She looked sad when I said we’d be heading out as soon as Jordan’s parole had finished and he was cleared to travel.

“Will you stay in touch, Torrey?” she asked, her expression resigned.

“Sure, Mom,” I answered, quickly.

She nodded but didn’t push it any further.

After she left, I headed back up to see Jordan.

“Not so bad, huh?” he smiled at me. “I’m glad you and your momma are speakin’ again. It didn’t set right with me that you were fightin’.”

I chewed my lip for a while but nodded.

“Yeah, life’s too short to stay angry at people, isn’t it?”

We sat in silence, each lost in our separate thoughts.

 

 

 

The next day Officer Carson came to visit.

Jordan had only just woken up, so I made her wait in the family room while I helped him get dressed. It was too painful for him to try and get a t-shirt over his head, so he was wearing one of Mikey’s old button down shirts. Gloria hadn’t objected when I’d raided the closet in Mikey’s room; she’d even helped me to wash the clothes I’d taken so they were freshened up after eight years of collecting dust.

I left Jordan to zip up his own pants, despite his insistence that me helping with that was the best part of getting dressed.

I headed back down to have a little heart-to-heart with Officer Carson.

“I hope you’re not going to make him take a test for drugs,” I said, quickly, “because half the time he’s high as a freakin’ kite on all the pain meds, and I’ve been using alcohol wipes around his eye, so he’ll fail the EtG test, too.”

“No, that’s fine,” she smiled. “Don’t worry, Torrey. In fact, we won’t worry about that anymore at all.”

I didn’t know what she meant, but let it go when she looked up as Jordan walked slowly into the room, holding his ribs.

“Hello, Jordan,” she said, standing up to shake his hand. “How are you?”

“Fine,” he said, automatically.

We both stared at him, taking in the multicolored bruises, the eye patch, his painful stance, then at the same time we both burst out laughing, Jordan joining in reluctantly.

“Oh, crap!” he gasped, his laughter ending abruptly. “That hurt!”

“Of course, you idiot!” I chuckled. “Sit down before you fall down and I have to scrape you up off the carpet.”

“Well,” said Officer Carson when we were all seated. “I have good news. I came to tell you, Jordan, that you’ve been exempted from further drug and alcohol tests. It seemed appropriate, under the circumstances.”

“That’s great!” I said, brightly. “Thanks! We didn’t want to have to traipse into town.”

Jordan was silent, so I elbowed him in the ribs. He yelped and threw me a wounded look.

“Oops, sorry! That was harder than I meant, but you’re supposed to thank Sandy!”

Officer Carson smiled. “Don’t worry, Torrey, that’s fine. I’m sure it’s a lot to take in. But I do have a couple more pieces of good news: firstly, you don’t have to write your report this month, Jordan, and…” she paused for effect, “your parole officially finishes at midnight tonight. I pulled some strings.”

We were both silent.

“So that’s it,” she said kindly, correctly interpreting our silence as astonished shock. “You’re a free man, Jordan. Society believes you have paid your debt in full. It’s up to you now.”

“Oh my God!” I said, flinging my arms around Sandy’s neck as tears pricked my eyes. “Thank you so, so much!”

Jordan looked stunned.

“That’s it? I’m … I’m free?”

Officer Carson smiled and coughed a little, sounding choked up. I swear she was wiping a tear from her eye, too.

“Yes, Jordan. You’re a free man. Congratulations.”

She stood up and offered him her hand.

My heart cried out as he stood on trembling legs. Then they shook hands briefly.

“My job here is done,” she said, softly. “Good luck to both of you.”

She smiled again, then I showed her to the door and waved as she drove away.

Jordan was seated on the couch when I walked back in, his expression still stunned.

“Wow!” I said.

He seemed frozen to the spot.

“Jordan, this is immense! You’re free!”

I sat down next to him and wrapped my arms carefully around his neck, gently folding myself around his trembling body.

He buried his face into my hair as sobs shook his body.

“Free!” he said.

 

 

 

Jordan

 

It was impossible to take in.

I knew I should feel like celebrating, but I just felt empty. For so long I’d been identified as someone outside of society: first as a convict, then as a parolee. But now…

“It’s okay,” said Torrey reassuringly, later that afternoon.

We were lying on the sofa together, Torrey curled up carefully next to me. Normally when we were like this, she’d be lying all over me. I missed having her head on my chest, and that soft, soft hair falling across my body. But it was too fucking painful to take her weight on me. Not only that, but just breathing hurt, I had a king-size headache, and my left eye was throbbing like a bastard. I was trying to ignore it all and concentrate on the TV. Torrey loved sci-fi programs and we were currently watching reruns of Star Trek: Next Generation. Well, she was. My mind was a million miles away. Yeah, ironic much.

She looked across at me. “I can only imagine how surreal this is for you.”

I nodded but didn’t answer. Honestly, I wouldn’t have known what to say.

“It’s going to be okay,” she said, again. “As soon as you’re well, we can do anything we like, go anywhere we want.”

“Yeah, I know.”

I didn’t.

“Don’t worry, we’ll work it out.” She hesitated. “When are you going to tell your folks?”

Dad had been out at work and Momma had been—who knows where she’d been. She stayed out of our way.

Officer Carson had left three hours ago. I could have called Dad at his office but I’d held off.

“I’m not sure I’m gonna tell them yet,” I said, at last.

Torrey was puzzled. “Why wouldn’t you?”

I shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a piece of couch that didn’t hurt like a bitch.

“I just don’t want to feel … I don’t know. It’s like they’ll be expectin’ somethin’ else from me. I don’t want the pressure right now. Can we just leave it for a while?”

She held up her hands. “Hey, it’s totally your call! I’m just happy and proud of you. I want to shout it out so everyone knows. But if you’re not ready for that, it’s fine by me. But, um, I did send a text to Bev.”

“Yeah? What did she say?”

Torrey laughed. “Well, her first text was just one word, at least I think it was a word. The message said ‘amazeballs!’”

“Um, okay?”

“And her second message said she wanted to come over with a bottle of champagne. Don’t worry. I told her no. Or rather, I told her not yet.”

“I’ve never had champagne.”

She stared at me.

“Just beer and, um, vodka, some whiskey. Ryan had … there was red wine at his party. I remember that. But I don’t think I had any. So nope, no champagne.”

“We totally have to put that right!” Torrey laughed. “You’ll love it. And it goes really well with sex. I think it’s the bubbles.”

I started to laugh then my ribs reminded me that wasn’t a great idea.

“Sorry, hon,” she giggled. “Oh, by the way. I talked to Hulk. He’d already heard, of course. He says the job’s there when you want it and that I should kick your ass some. Not sure why he said that but I think it was a term of affection.”

I grunted, not wanting to think about Hulk and ‘affection’ in the same sentence. It was just too strange.

“What about your work, sweetheart?” I asked, dreading the answer. “You cain’t stay at home playin’ nurse with me forever.”

She sighed. “No, that’s true. But Gus gave me the rest of the week off.”

“That sure was generous of him.”

“Yeah, well it might have something to do with the fact that he’s shit scared of my boyfriend!”

I grimaced. “I wouldn’t have thought he’d be afraid of someone who don’t fight back.”

My tone was bitter, and Torrey threw me a look that showed she was still kind of mad at me.

“Yes, but those days are over, aren’t they?”

I guess they were.

“Yeah,” I said, nodding slowly. “No free passes for anyone. Next time, I’m comin’ out swingin’.”

Torrey smiled, satisfied with my answer.

And I wasn’t lying to her. I wasn’t a parolee anymore: I had the same rights as anyone else. Well, almost. I wasn’t dumb enough to think that if I got into something my record wouldn’t be held against me, but it wouldn’t automatically mean going back to prison either. And as for Ryan and anyone else who wanted a piece of me, next time they would be the ones paying. I finally believed what Torrey had been telling me—my debts were paid. There was just one outstanding, and that was a debt to Mikey—the one where I’d promised him to live my life the best way I could. It would take a lifetime to pay, but I was good with that thought.

 

 

 

The next day, we were visited by the detective from the hospital. Torrey said it was the same guy, Detective Lopez, but I didn’t remember. I was probably out of it at the time.

Torrey offered him coffee. She was being thoughtful, but the idea of acting like I was fucking socializing with a police officer had me twitching and just about ready to leap out of my skin. I probably would have, if breathing didn’t hurt so damn much.

“Hello, Mr. Kane. My name is Detective Lopez. I’ve already had the pleasure of meeting your fiancée.”

I had trouble replying anything sensible. A police detective was calling me mister, that was just plain freaky. Plus, Torrey and me hadn’t exactly discussed the whole ‘fiancée’ thing. Truthfully, I was kind of hurt that she’d just used it to get information at the hospital. Maybe it didn’t mean that much to her, bearing in mind her views on marriage. Hearing the word should have made me happy, but instead I just felt a jolt of pain.

The detective was still staring at me but my mouth refused to work; thankfully, Torrey took over.

“Thanks for coming, detective. I’m assuming you have some news for us?”

He sat on one of the armchairs and leaned back. “Well, yes and no. Ryan Dupont has admitted to the assault, as you are aware, but refuses to name his accomplices. I want to know if you’ll be pressing charges—either of you.”

I glanced at Torrey. I’d seen the bruises on her arms, and that had made me madder than hell, and I felt guilty that she’d gotten hurt because of me. She folded her arms and stared back. She knew how I felt about this and we’d discussed what I was going to do. Or rather, not do.

“No,” I said, quietly. “I won’t be pressin’ charges.”

“Miss Delaney?”

“No, no charges.”

There was a short silence.

“I see,” said Detective Lopez. “May I ask why?”

I let out a long, painful breath.

“He was my brother’s best friend.”

In the end, out of all the things I could have said, out of all the explanations I could have given, that was the simplest answer for a stranger to comprehend.

Lopez nodded.

“In that case I won’t take up anymore of your time. Mr. Kane, Miss Delaney.”

He stood up and offered his hand. I stared at it, nonplussed, until Torrey cleared her throat. I stood up, too, and tentatively shook the guy’s hand.

Torrey saw him to the door and when she came back, she brushed a soft kiss over my lips.

“What’s that for?”

“Do I need a reason?”

“No, sweetheart, never.”

She smiled. “I think it’s because this means it’s over, so I sealed it with a kiss.”

“I love you, Torrey Delaney.”

“I know,” she said, and threw me a wink.

 

 

 

The next three weeks were boring as all hell, if you discounted the fact that it was pretty tense in the house having Momma and Torrey in the same building, even when they weren’t in the same room. They were civil to each other, but there was no warmth there. Torrey was kind of distant toward my dad, too, which was a shame because they’d been getting along so well before. I thought it was probably because I was mad at him for letting Momma come home, but if there was another reason, I wanted to know why.

After being uncharacteristically evasive, Torrey finally told me I was right, but it was also because she’d found out that he’d called her ‘trashy’. She was really hurt by that, and I was furious that Momma had taken pleasure in telling her. I already knew what he’d said, of course, but of all the things that Momma had hurt me over, telling Torrey, that was one of the hardest to forgive. If she’d just aimed her spite at me, I could have taken it, but not when she hurt the woman I loved.

I knew that Dad was ashamed of what he’d said, and Momma had been trying to make it up to me—to us—but somehow it had cut the final cords that bound us together. I had a new family now with Torrey.

She had to go back to work in the end. One of us needed to be earning an income, and I was as useful as a suntan in Siberia. I missed her like crazy and sent a million texts to her each day. I spent the rest of my time reading some, although that was tiring with just one good eye. I listened to the radio, occasionally watched TV. Other than that, I slept a lot.

Momma didn’t try and force her company on me, although she shopped for food, made sure I got meals at regular intervals, and just kind of kept things ticking over. But I’d lost my appetite since being in hospital, and chewing with a fractured cheekbone wasn’t the most fun thing ever. I had a lot of soup, and mac and cheese.

Momma drove me around for those few weeks. It was awkward. We didn’t talk much. I don’t think either of us knew how to. I guess we tried.

One afternoon, she was driving me to my appointment with the eye surgeon guy at his office, but stopping off at the junkyard first.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, tentatively.

“Fine.”

There was a long pause.

“Good,” she said, at last. “Torrey seems…”

When she didn’t finish the sentence, I glanced across expectantly.

“She seems good for you.”

I don’t know if it meant to sound like she was choking on the words, but it did.

“She is,” I replied, shortly.

End of conversation.

She turned into the junkyard’s entrance and parked near the office.

I needed to see Hulk and tell him I wouldn’t be coming back to work for him. I could have phoned, but the guy had done a lot for me and I owed him.

Momma waited in the car while I went to talk to him. He was sitting behind his child sized desk, dwarfing it as usual.

He stood up when he saw me, shoving his chair into the wall. Then without speaking, he wrapped his massive arms around me and squeezed tightly.

“Don’t break my damn ribs again!” I yelped.

Hulk released me with a snort of amusement. I didn’t think it was that funny. I was healing well, but it was still a work in progress.

“Good to see you, kid!” he said. “Heard yer still kickin’. Guess it was the truth.”

“Yep. Cain’t kill weeds, man.”

He looked at me appraisingly.

“I figured you’d be along. I’m guessin’ ya come to say your goodbyes.”

“Yeah. Me and Torrey will be headin’ out in a couple of days. Fresh start, ya know.”

He nodded, staring at me from behind his bushy eyebrows.

“I just wanted to thank you, man,” I said, feeling a little awkward at doing the emoting thing with Hulk. “If you hadn’t given me a job, hell, I’d probably be coolin’ my heels back in prison right about now.”

“You gettin’ soft on me, kid?” he asked, rumbling out a laugh.

“Maybe.”

He chuckled to himself.

“That’s the effect of women for ya. Gotta say, your girl’s fine. She can ride a horse in my string anytime. Look after that lil’ firecracker—got yesself a good ‘un there, kid.”