Leave a Trail (Signal Bend #7)(20)
He knew what his best thought was. He didn’t know if he’d said it out loud, and he didn’t know what to say now.
“It’s okay, Badge. Show was still out of it when you said it. And I haven’t said anything. He doesn’t know.”
So, then, he had said it out loud.
“Adrienne.”
“Yeah.”
“I hurt her.”
“Yeah, you did. She’s okay—she’s pretty much healed now. And I don’t think she’s holdin’ a grudge.
She asks about you every day. But you did hurt her. That day, when you said she was your best thought, and I thought you were dyin’, I was mad. At you. For wasting that chance when you had it. Wasting it because you’re afraid of Show. Well, you made that worse. He will kill you now if you so much as nod in her direction. But I say you figure out how to fix that. Because you don’t walk away from someone you love. Ever.” He punched Badger lightly on the arm. “You love her?”
“I hurt her.”
“Not what I asked, Badger.”
Did he love her? He’d made himself not think about that much. He’d tried hard, anyway, not to think about that. He and Adrienne had started a friendship with a kiss. A really incredible kiss. That had been four years ago. Since then, they’d only been in the same place six or seven times, when she’d come for a visit.
When she was in town, they’d hung out a fair amount. Not really doing anything—watching movies, riding horses, knocking around in town. They’d made out a few times, but nothing more than that. Not even any over-the-clothes action. And she’d initiated everything. Of course, until recently, he’d never made a move on any girl. Not even the club girls. He’d been a total * that way. And every other way.
He’d stopped everything at kissing, because Show had been clear that Adrienne was off limits, and he was not about to go against a brother—and most certainly not Showdown.
But they were good friends, and they’d kept in close touch online and by text and video chat. He’d thought they were close. And he knew it was him who’d broken that, who’d pulled away. He also knew that she was hurt and confused.
“Badge.”
“Yeah. I love her. But I hurt her. And not just when Show stopped me. I knocked her down the day before.”
“Shit, kid.”
“Yeah.” Badger looked down at his hands, which had done the things he’d described. He curled them into fists and slammed them down on his thighs. “Fuck.”
“Remember what Hav did to Cory?”
He remembered. Hav had hit his old lady in the head with a sledgehammer. But it was nothing like what he’d done. “That was different. That was an accident. And he was nuts after his sister…”
Had been beheaded by Martin Halyard. Which was how they’d ended up in Chicago, killing Halyard.
Which was how they’d ended up in the Perros’ House of Pain.
“He was outta his head. Right. And we made space for that. Cory made space for that. Right?”
Unsure what Len’s point was, Badger just stared.
“What you went through, Badge—that’s crazy shit you had to deal with. More than even me or Show.
I’d say you were a little nuts, too. Adrienne believes you didn’t mean to hurt her, and I do, too. And everybody knew what happened with the drugs could happen. Tasha told us you would probably get hooked. We told you to let us know when you were in trouble, and we were looking out so we could catch you. There’s space for you, too. But you have to give yourself some space so you can trust us. We can’t trust you if you don’t trust us.”
“I don’t know how to fix it.”
“Stay clean. Man up. Take your lumps. And talk to Show. Be straight. I think I can get you your kutte back when you leave this room if you can get right with Show. If you can’t, then I don’t know what to say.
Because, Badge, he sees a little bit of Daisy in Adrienne. What she might have been. That makes Adrienne real special to him, and seeing her hurt—if you don’t get right with him…you gotta get right with him.”
Badger nodded, but he had no earthly idea how to get right with Show, who’d seen him at his very worst, hurting the girl in whom Show saw his murdered daughter.
There was no way to make that right.
oOo
When he was a kid, every Christmas Eve after church and supper, Badger’s mom and dad would let him and his older brother, Jason, have their filled stockings. The family had never had much money, but they’d always had full stockings and one or two presents under the tree. When they were young enough to believe, Santa came while they were at church. Santa was eventually revealed to be their dad, who only went to church for weddings, christenings, and funerals. But before they knew better, their dad always had a big story about helping Santa unpack his sack. Then he and Santa would sit on the porch for a spell and share a smoke.
Before they could have their stockings, though, they had to sit in front of the television, all four of them, and watch their mom’s favorite Christmas movie on VHS: Scrooge, with Albert somebody or other.
Some English guy. There was singing. Badger—Justin, in those days—had always thought it was pretty lame. It was old, and there was, you know, singing. But they’d sit there with their tantalizingly full stockings dangling from the mantle, drinking homemade virgin eggnog and eating sugar cookies shaped like stockings and Christmas trees and sprinkled with colored sugar, and they’d watch. Their mom sang every song. And she always cried at the end.