Apparently from what witnesses said, a coyote had darted in front of the car as they were driving, and my father swerved to avoid it, mistaking it for a neighbor’s dog. The car had spotty steering at the best of times and couldn’t recover from the quick jolt it had just made. My parents crashed into a telephone pole, and by the time anyone arrived there was nothing that could be done. Just like that, for no reason and with nothing to be done, I had lost the two people who loved me more than anything else in the world. And I had also lost the peaceful life I had always known.
I don’t even remember weeping. It was months before I cried over them. I couldn’t take in and process what had happened, let alone digest the reality I was now living. I just went into a fog and did what needed to be done to survive.
Grace came by and took us home with her the next day. It started out as a temporary arrangement until the dust settled, but quickly became something more. Lucas and I had no living relatives, and there was no one else who could take us in without separating us. Grace was a good woman who had lost her husband years ago and had never remarried. She was a mother with no children and, although she never tried to replace our parents, was the closest thing Lucas and I had to family after that fateful night. We both liked her very much before that day and we both loved her after. She was an angel in the darkest times and had stayed with us ever since.
Suddenly the phone rang and shook me out of my stupor. I made my way down the hall and answered sleepily.
“Well, that’s the sound of a weary woman if I’ve ever heard one. Tell me you’ve had a proper dinner tonight, dear?”
It was Grace. I sighed and smiled into the receiver.
“I just fed Luke, Grace, and got him settled for the night. I’ve got a tin of soup and some bread and I’ll be feeding myself shortly.”
I was lying. I had bread, but that was pretty much it. I had lost a day’s work today and had been planning to buy groceries with the tips I would have made. Bread would be fine and the grocery store would still be there tomorrow.
“A fine cook like you and you’re heating up soup for dinner? Well, that just won’t do at all. I’m coming over with some food and we’re going to have a proper meal.”
“Grace, please. You’ve had a long day too, and I’m not going to have you coming over here and cooking me dinner. Thank you. Thank you so much, but I think we all just need the rest.”
“Hush now. Who said anything about me cooking dinner? I cook all day, dear. I’m bringing food over and you are cooking me dinner. I need to be taken care of sometimes too you know, plus, there’s no soup, is there, dear?”
I laughed wearily and knew there was no way to lie my way out of this.
“Come on over, Grace. I would be happy to cook you dinner, and thankful for your company.”
“Now that is more like it. I’ll be over in a jiffy, dear.”
We hung up and I sat down at the table and rested my head on my hands. I was so tired. I hadn’t eaten since the candy bar I had for breakfast and my stomach rumbled at the thought of a real meal.
“Grace to the rescue once again.”
I closed my eyes and thanked God for putting her on this earth.
Chapter 17
Hunter
It was just like old times.
I couldn’t even try to count the number of bottles Deacon and I had shared over the years. It started when we were fourteen, back in school. We’d both ended up in detention for working over some kids one day.
Deacon had been walking down the hall, minding his own business, when some uppity rich boy put the shoulder to him just to be a prick. Apparently, Deacon had gotten a handjob from this prick’s girlfriend and he didn’t think that was appropriate behavior. Maybe the son of a bitch should have taken better care of her. Or maybe he should have realized we were fourteen fucking years old and that all that shit didn’t matter. In any case, as if that little display wasn’t enough to send Deacon flying off the handle, the poor bastard decided to inform him that his mother was a whore, and his old man, a worthless drunk. Now, that’s not to say these things weren’t both true. Deacon’s pop was a piece of shit and his ma had fucked her way around town, but it was one thing for that to be the truth and another to bring it up. He knew it, no one had to remind him.
I rounded the corner of the hall just in time to see Deacon head-butt the mouthy fucker, kick out his knee, and teach him some manners with his fists. We were still young and, like me, Deacon blacked out most people around him save whoever he was focused on at the time. I noticed this when I saw one of rich boy’s jock friends rush Deacon from behind. Another was getting ready to sucker punch him.
Rich fucks never had any balls. They couldn’t look you in the eye, they were just too scared to really do anything. I knew it was none of my business and I could see Deacon could handle himself just fine, but at the same time I wasn’t about to let these fucks get a leg up like that. That and it was a chance for me to use my God given talents, plus I was still seething from taking a before school ass kicking from my old man. Seemed as good a time as any to blow off some steam and take a couple of rich boys down a notch. Win-win.
A teacher and a janitor pulled us off the helpless bastards before we did any real damage, but it was the beginning of a long and rewarding friendship for Deacon and me. That was the first time Deacon and I went to war together. It certainly wouldn’t be the last, but it solidified us as two motherfuckers you didn’t dare cross. If you went after one, you got the other, regardless of whether you had issue with him or not. It was trouble enough having one of us on your bad side. You sure as shit didn’t want us both.
That day in detention we blew out as soon as the teacher left the room and pounded down a bottle of whiskey Deacon had taken off his old man. We didn’t say much and that suited us just fine. We were cut from the same cloth and in that moment both of us knew that we had someone who had our back, no questions asked.
We developed a bond over our mutual need for violence, whiskey, and women and used them as fuel to forget the shit cards we got dealt.
His family was just as shitty as mine except those miserable cunts were actually his blood. I don’t know what’s worse, being born into that or just ending up there. Either way, it’s what we both were stuck with and we spent most of our young lives chasing girls, getting fucked up, and scrapping whoever was stupid enough to bother us.
Deacon moved out of his home as soon as he turned sixteen and dropped out of school to work. He lied about his age and got a job on the nightshift at a factory. He felt good to be away from his folks and was already succeeding far beyond his old man. He had watched his father fuck up job after job and just never give a shit. The old man would take his frustrations about his whore wife and his poverty out on his son until the son knocked his ass out one day.
Fucking fathers.
Sometimes they needed a good lesson more than their kids, and sometimes they learned the hard way.
It was around this same time that my old man discovered there was a use for me other than a punching bag when he came in drunk. That’s when I started in the Donnelly family business. I was happy to have the old man off my ass, and apparently he was happy to have someone with little to no conscience under his thumb to handle the parts of his business he didn’t want to touch. I went to school less and less and eventually got the family to agree to pay me for my handy work if I moved out and took care of myself.
Deacon went the straight and narrow and I got sucked deeper down below, but at least we were out on our own. We didn’t see each other as much, but whenever we did, you could guarantee there would be brown liquor and a fucking brawl, even if it was just the two of us. We were brothers in the truest sense of the word and the closest thing to family either of us had ever known. When one of us got in the shit, the other threw himself right in after, without giving it a second thought. He went to war for me, I went to war for him, and we’d down a few bottles of beer as we stepped over the bodies and left the
bloodied battlefield.
It was just the way it was and always would be. Ever since that brawl in the ninth fucking grade.
I hate to say this because it makes me sound like a sentimental fuck, but I loved Deacon. He was the brother I never had. I wouldn’t have made it through my teenage years without his having my back. That’s the truth.
Chapter 18
Hunter
“How the fuck did you find me, Deacon? I mean, this is a lovely goddamn surprise and all, but what are you doing here, man?”
Deacon just slowly paced and looked around the room, taking hits off the bottle of whiskey.
“This is a real nice place you got here, Hunter. Real fucking cozy. I like where you put the fridge. You decorate yourself?”
He motioned to the toppled over hunk of metal that was wedged between the cot and the wall.
“Deacon, I’m serious, man. What the fuck is going on? This place is far from the biggest shithole I’ve hung my hat, and I know you’re not here just to bust my balls and drink. How did you find me and what the fuck do you want?”
He slowly walked over and sat down on the knocked over fridge, letting out a deep sigh, and passed the bottle to me.
“One, you’re not hard to find, asshole. At least not for me. You haven’t exactly been covering your tracks. And two,” he paused and looked around the room again like he was checking all the possible ways someone could get in, “you’re in the shit, pal. You’re really in the shit this time.”
“Jesus, Deacon. Fucking tell me something I don’t know, brother,” I chuckled, as I took the bottle and drank a good couple gulps down.
“No, Hunter. You don’t fucking know. Your old man,” he stopped mid-sentence and leaned his arms on his knees. “Your old man is on the fucking war path. What are the two most important things to that miserable old cunt? Money and reputation, right? They’re all he has in his joke of a life, and you took a big chunk of one and spit in the face of the other. He’s fucking losing it, Hunter. Tearing the neighborhood apart trying to figure out what the fuck happened to you. He won’t stop till he finds out where you are. It’s all he’s fucking thinking about.”
I knew Deacon was trying to warn me or give me a heads up or whatever, but all I felt was joy. Old man Donnelly had been a thorn in my goddamn side since his old lady had convinced him to take me in, all those years back. I don’t even know why he did it. I guess he loved her as much as his black heart was capable of. First and last time the bastard felt that, I’m sure. As soon as she passed, he made it crystal fucking clear what a parasite he thought I was, and made sure I never forgot it. I just went with it because it was all I knew. Shit, it was all I had. I was a fucking kid. Now, I had finally stood up to him and stuck it to the old fuck. I’d made him see that he wasn’t in fucking control, at least not of me. He never was. He kept me caged up my whole life and now I was out. It was his turn to feel like nothing.
Come find me, you useless old fuck. I pray you fucking do, and I’ll be waiting to shove a barrel down your throat.
“Well, pal,” I said, lighting a smoke. I slid one out of the pack for Deacon. “Good thing I hit the road then, hey?”
Deacon looked up and shook his head.
“You and me both, brother.” He took the cigarette and fired it up. “Your old man is no fucking fool. He’s an asshole, but no fool. First door he came knocking on was mine.”
“Ha. How did that go for the poor bastards he sent over?”
Deacon just smiled.
“It was time for me to get gone as well, Hunter.” He took the bottle back and stood up. “So what’s your grand plan, asshole? You know your old man is coming. It didn’t take me too long to track you down and you know he’s not going to be far behind. You just going to let a storm hit this nice little town?”
“I’m not going to fucking run. That’s for goddamn sure.”
“Yeah? I thought that was your thing these days.”
“Hey. Watch your fucking mouth, pal.”
Deacon just shrugged and raised his eyebrows.
“Just saying, Hunter. You’re up here, in Buttfuck, Montana, in a one room shithole, working as a civilian? I mean, that ain’t exactly standing tall.”
I felt my fists clench and my teeth grit. I just sat there letting his words sink in.
“If you’re looking for a fucking scrap, Deacon, I’ll give you one. You fucking know who I am. Don’t fucking question me.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I do know who you are, and this isn’t it. You’re goddamn right I’m calling you out. If I need to slap you around a bit to remind you, I fucking will. If that’s what it takes for you to quit being a pussy. Get your ass back to Boston. We’ll ride in together and finish this shit with the old man. You know I’ll war for you, Hunter. What the fuck do you want to stick around here for anyway? Where are you going to go? Boston is in your blood, pal. It’s part of who you are.”
I just sat there. He was right. Who the fuck was I kidding? Sticking it to Old Man Donnelly felt great and I liked the idea of him sweating, but I was running. It felt fucking awful. Working nine to five, listening to Dennis’s shit talk, trying to be polite and pretending to be a normal fucking human being. This shit wasn’t me. Deacon was right. I wouldn’t admit it to the cocky fucker, but he was right.
“The old man is going to come for you, Hunter, and he’s going to tear this town apart. He’s going to fucking murder. Now, I don’t give a flying fuck, but maybe you do. Anyone or anything you’ve touched here, he’ll fucking burn to the ground just to prove a point. You really want to bring that here?”
I stood up, walked over to Deacon, and shoved the bottle into his chest.
“Fuck it. Fuck this town, fuck Boston, fuck the neighborhood, and fuck the old man. Let the bastard come. I don’t give a shit about any of it, Deacon. There, here, whatever. I’m not running, but I sure as shit ain’t going back home. There’s nothing for me there anymore. I’m heading to a cabin in the mountains. If the old man wants to war, he can fucking come to me. I’m done doing that cocksucker any favors.”
I walked back to the cot and sat down. The old man would come and he would bring hell with him. I needed to get out of this place, get far away from these innocent people. I wasn’t good for anybody and I didn’t give a shit. It’s how I liked it.
“Well, if fuck it is your only plan, you know I’m in,” Deacon said tossing me the bottle. “Been like a motto for us sorry motherfuckers for a long time. Let’s finish this fine beverage and then ride, pal. Fuck it, right? I assume you’ve got no goodbyes you want to make?”
I hesitated before answering. I looked him in the eye.
“No one that deserves one.”
I took a big hit of booze and Kelly shot across my mind. I needed to get far away from her and whatever hold she had on me. It was no good for me and was fucking awful for her. She was burned into my mind. The memory of her, with her green eyes looking at me like a savior, her sweaty body writhing under me as she moaned with every thrust of my cock, her nails raking my back as I came deep inside her. She didn’t deserve a goodbye. She didn’t deserve to meet me in the first place. I was a fucking animal and I had devoured and claimed an innocent girl. That was it. That was all that had happened. It was time to walk away. I never had an issue leaving a chick before and this time wouldn’t be any different. She didn’t need me fucking up her perfect little life, and I sure as fuck didn’t need her slowing me down.
“Figured as much,” Deacon laughed.
Well, Kelly. You get your fucking life back, sweetheart. The big bad wolf is leaving town. You’re welcome.
Chapter 19
Kelly
Grace gently knocked on the screen door so she wouldn’t wake Lucas.
“Hey, baby,” she whispered as she smiled and waved from the porch, holding a brown paper bag full of groceries in her other arm. “Open this door and let’s get this show on the road. This is far too late for an old girl like me to be thinking about eating din
ner.”
I was so happy to see her. Grace gave me a warm feeling in my stomach whenever something was wrong. I felt like I was about to cry tears of joy just from hearing her voice.
“You’re not old and it’s not that late,” I whispered back, slowly opening the door for her. “It can’t be more than nine, Grace.”
“I know,” she said softly. “Other folks my age ate hours ago and have tucked themselves in for the night like little Luke. How is the dear? Keeping his grades up? Still working his charm on the ladies?”
“How did you know about his little ladies?” I asked with a laugh.
“I have my sources, honey. Don’t you worry that pretty little head of yours. Plus, I’m his Grandma Grace, remember? We have ways of prying things out of our little guys.”
“Yes,” I smiled back at her. “This I know.”
Luke had taken to calling Grace Grandma when we started living with her. All our grandparents had passed away before we were born, so we never knew them. I think he just assumed that Grace was it. And she was. She had fought the name briefly, but as soon as I gave it the okay, she was fully behind it. She would never admit it, but I knew the joy it brought her every time he called her that. It warmed my heart to hear as well. It made both of them very happy and that was all I wanted.
“So, what’s for dinner, Grace?” I said as I walked into the kitchen and realized what a mess it was. I was going to get an earful.
“Well, that is up to you, my dear. You’re the cook. My goodness, child. It looks like a tornado blew through this kitchen.”
I knew she was talking about the dishes that had piled up since I made Lucas dinner, but a part of me was afraid she could see signs of Hurricane Hunter. I could still smell him, could still feel him, and I hoped that she couldn’t too. Or at the very least, I hoped I wasn’t wearing my feelings on my face.
“I know, Grace, I know. With everything that happened today at the diner, I just didn’t get to cleaning up like I normally do. I’m sorry.”
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