Until You (The Redemption, #1)(71)

The one thing I gave myself a deadline to accomplish by today.

With a deep breath, I walk out to the verandah, take a seat on the top step, pick up my cell, and hit send.

“Well, well, well.” Justin’s gravelly voice fills the line and initiates a fresh wave of guilt laced with panic to surge through me. “If it isn’t Mr. Busy himself.”

“How’s it going, brother?” I ask.

“Same ol’, same ol’. Just figuring out my new normal.” He chuckles. “I mean who knew having less use of your body meant you had to do a lot more shit to it? You’d think it would mean you’d have less.”

I don’t react to his attempt at humor. Can’t. All I hear are the gunshots. All I remember is his ragged breathing.

“And Sheila? She good?” I ask, completely ignoring his comment.

“Yep. She got that promotion at work she was up for, but they’re letting her work from home for the time being.”

“Tell her congrats.”

“What about you out there in no-man’s land playing handyman?”

“It’s all good. You should try it sometime.” Fuck. I can’t believe I just said that. “I didn’t mean . . . I mean the country. The no-man’s land.”

“Don’t worry about it. The girls? They’re good? They seem like it when they text me.”

They text him? They can talk to him, but I can’t?

You’re a real piece of shit, Madden.

“Yeah.” I clear my throat, hating this forced awkwardness with a man I used to be able to tell anything to without giving it a thought. “The time away has done them some good. It’s like everything is slowed down here. Like it’s okay to actually act their age instead of skipping five years ahead like they were back home.”

“Then all that worrying was over nothing. Good job, Dad. You made the right decision.”

I run a hand through my hair and struggle with what to say next. With how to guide this conversation to where I need it to go but don’t want it to go.

“The Cubbies, man.” Good fucking job, Crew. Way to demonstrate what an incompetent ass you are by focusing on his beloved Cubs instead of him as a person. Instead of what tore us both, mind and body, apart. “I swore this was going to be our year.”

“Better luck next year, I guess.”

“At least we have hockey to look forward to. I hear they’re thinking of signing LeCroix—”

“Crew?” I open my mouth to respond, but he beats me to it. “Are we going to stop with all this small talk bullshit? This is me you’re talking to, for fuck’s sake.”

I hang my head for a beat and nod to no one. “I don’t know what to say. I’m at a complete fucking loss. It’s my fault—”

“I can’t do this without you, man.”

His broken words, his confession, are like a knife to the heart. A reminder that I’ve abandoned my best friend when I’m already reminded almost every second of every day.

“I hesitated, Justin. The baby cried, and I waited instead of firing. If I’d fired, you wouldn’t have been . . . you wouldn’t be . . . fuck.” I squeeze my eyes shut to fight the tears that well up in frustration. “I don’t trust myself anymore. I don’t know how to be the person I used to be.”

Silence weighs heavily on the line.

Talk to me, Justin.

Isn’t that what I begged for that day in the apartment? For him to talk to me? For him to prove we’re both still alive? For him to give me a lifeline?

It seems I’m asking for the same thing now too.

He clears his throat. “I don’t blame you, Crew. You know that, right? We were both there. We both got fucked up. I’m not like this because of you. I’m like this because of that crazy bastard who made a conscious decision to open fire on two policemen doing their job. I don’t know how you remember things, but we both hesitated. We both needed to make sure we didn’t kill an innocent baby. We played by the rules. He didn’t . . . and yeah, it fucking sucks. But I don’t blame you.”

Bullshit. His absolution is hard to hear. It’s even harder to believe when I have the chance to move about freely and walk my daughters down the aisle, when he won’t ever have that opportunity.

“Don’t say that,” I say, barely audible.

“There are some days I wish I’d died. You know that? There are others where I cry and scream and feel sorry for myself. Those are the days I have to pack it all the fuck away so that Sheila doesn’t worry I’m going to do something stupid. Those are the days I have to tell myself to snap out of it and remind myself that I’m so fucking grateful to be alive. That I get to grow old with Sheila.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I’ve been a shitty friend. The guilt—fuck, the guilt has para—” Paralyzed me. “It’s eaten a hole through me. It’s fucked me up. And how dare I feel that way when I’m here. When I’m walking. When I’m—”

“If I had to go back in that room again, I’d still want you by my side,” he says, voice even, resolute.

“Don’t.” My voice breaks.

“What is it we used to wax on about? The Force Crew?”

“Yeah. We talked about a lot of our pipe dreams. So what? What does that have to do with anything right now?”