Coming Home(91)

He glanced up at Leah; she was staring at him with equal parts sympathy and dread, like she knew where this story was going. And even though he knew that she didn’t, he grabbed on to the small thread of compassion she’d thrown him and pulled himself through the rest of the story.

“He couldn’t hold his own,” he said hoarsely. “Bryan was wasted, and there were three of them. And I had to get through that goddamn crowd.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “I could see everything, but I couldn’t get there fast enough. Bryan got hit and went down, and one of the guys kicked him hard in the side of the head. Right in his temple.”

He saw Leah press her fist to her mouth as she shook her head slightly.

“And I lost it,” he said. “I charged the guy, and we went over a table and through the front window of the bar.” He looked down and flexed his hand, watching his scars expand and contract with the movement. “I don’t remember a lot after that. I remember hitting the ground outside. And the broken glass. And the blood all over my hands. I had no idea where it was coming from.”

He looked up at her; her fist was still pressed against her lips, but her eyes were welled with tears. “And the next thing I knew, I was being thrown over the hood of a cop car and cuffed. They were reading me my rights, telling me to remain silent, and I just kept shouting at them to go help Bryan.”

Danny pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes again as they began to sting, and he took a slow breath before continuing. “They took me to a station and put me in a cell, and no one would tell me what happened. No one would tell me.” He shook his head slowly. “A few hours later, they came in and said I had made bail. I walked out to the vestibule, and Gram was there.”

He dropped his head back against the couch and closed his eyes. “And she just crumpled in my arms and started wailing. And then I knew.”

Danny heard her move beside him, and before he could open his eyes, she was crawling onto his lap, wrapping her arms around him as she buried her face into his neck.

He snaked his arms around her waist and pulled her against his body. Even though he knew the worst was yet to come, she felt so good in his arms that he couldn’t stop himself. He needed this right now. He needed her.

He heard a tiny muffled sob, and Danny closed his eyes as he pressed his lips against her shoulder. He wished the story ended there. He wished he deserved the sympathy she was showing him right now. Danny tightened his arms and held her closer, wanting to soak up every last second of what he was surely about to lose.

“I don’t understand,” she mumbled into the crook of his neck. “So now this guy is pressing charges against you? How can he do that? Why isn’t he in trouble for what he did to Bryan?”

Leah, please don’t hate me.

“He’s not the one pressing charges,” he whispered against her shoulder.

She sat up and looked at him, her brow pulled together and her face streaked with tears. She looked so troubled and so saddened and so beautiful that he would have rather torn his arm off than say his next words.

He reached up and brushed at the tear stains on her face. “When we went through the window, an artery in his neck was severed. They took him to the hospital that night, but they couldn’t stop the bleeding in time.”

Her brow smoothed out, but she shook her head. “What…what do you mean?”

Danny looked up at her, wiping the other cheek with the pad of this thumb.

“Did he…?” She trailed off, and Danny nodded.

Something like panic overtook her expression as she said, “So you’re…?”